Four months old - Oscar

With each child I have let go of a few more little things. Even with just one child I found it difficult to keep the 'memory book' up to date and fill in exactly how much Cohen weighed each month, what date he got which tooth, or who gave him what each birthday. I thought I would remember each precious moment, but when I came with pen to paper, the memories had no dates attached. I filled in each prompt as best I could, with pangs of guilt that I wouldn't be giving Cohen a perfect baby book record of his first years. By the third child I didn't even purchase a memory book, which at least alleviated that particular Mama guilt.

With Emerson, my sweet little second child, I took photos each month of her first year, accompanied by notes for prosperity. I had intentions of doing the same for Oscar, my dearly loved third child. But the first few months flew by in a blur of new routines, broken sleep, school days and market preparation. And, well, here we are with a few more pangs of mothers guilt motivating me to start documenting now, at four months. I know I will be so pleased that I did. I look back now at the months of photos and words I wrote for Emerson and my heart aches a little at how quickly that time passed and the knowledge that Oscars baby days will pass just as quickly. It all feels that much more bitter sweet for me third time around, knowing that my longed for third baby is our last.

My little moon faced Oscar is such a joy. He was made to be a third child. He is so very at ease and rarely protests or cries. He goes along for the ride, usually in a sling, close to Mama's heart. Nothing equals his love of breastmilk. Though he is the first of my children to love getting dressed. His eyes light up and he smiles with delight at each singlet popped over his head and each onesie his arms are struggled in to. He is patient and observant of his siblings. Fascinated by them and pleased if he manages to grip their fingers and get them in to his mouth. If not their fingers, then it is his own he searches for, not satisfied with a dummy like his siblings were. He naps throughout the day - a morning snooze, a long sleep after lunch, an afternoon snooze. He wakes once, sometimes twice, for a feed in the night. He needs no rocking or calming to go back to sleep, while his brother liked to be patted and his sister would only fall asleep on my chest.

At three months he grew out of his bassinet and I sadly moved it out of our room for the last time. He slept in his cot in the room beside ours from that day on, with no interruption to his sleep. He loves his baths. Cohen and Emerson love him hopping in the bath with them and kicking off against them with his little frog legs in the water. Oscar surprised himself, and me, when he managed to roll from his tummy to his side a few weeks ago. His little double chin is terribly ticklish, and his tummy was made for raspberries. He smiles so wide and purrs in response to such attentions.

I see so much of his brother and sister in him. Here is Emerson at four months old. And yet he is so much his own little person, and such a very loved one at that.

Third Time Around

I was surprised by the subtle negativity I received during my third pregnancy. 'You'll have your hands full,' was the standard response, followed by jokes about my sanity, and concerns about the size of our car and house. I can only imagine what larger families must receive. As a society we have an idea about what is a 'normal' sized family, and I know I am guilty too when I read about a really large family, my mind struggles a little. While everyone is entitled to their own opinion on whether three is a good number, it usually depended on how many children they did or didn't have themselves. The consensus seemed to be that while two was manageable, three was a handful, and it was their duty to inform me as such. Whether they had three children or not. When family and friends took this line I reminded them that my first born alone had been a handful. But the underlying message seemed to be that I would not be able to handle three children, and I had been warned.

While the enthusiasm of family and friends surrounding my first pregnancy was not matched in my subsequent pregnancies, I was still surprised by the well meaning negativity from some of my family and friends the third time around. I don't know that people were aware that they were even doing it. 'Don't ask me to baby sit.' 'Did you trick your husband in to this?' 'I can't imagine having three children.' 'You're brave.' 'You're not having any more are you?' they asked light heatedly. But still. I held on to any positive comments I received and tried to ignore those that weren't. But the message was seeping in. I was crazy. I couldn't handle three children. I wasn't enough.

I've been thinking about this since I took all three children to the shops yesterday, by myself. I had been avoiding it. I'd been making trips and running errands while Cohen was at school. I'd call my husband to pick things up on his way home after ten hours of work. I even had my lovely neighbour babysit my big two when I had to go to the post office after school one day, so as to avoid having three children in public, on my own. I realised that I had lost faith in myself as a parent. I was scared that perhaps everyone was right. Perhaps I wasn't enough, I couldn't handle three kids alone. So I avoided it. But what you avoid gets harder and harder. I love my children. They're good kids. Why was I letting the things that others said determine what I was doing with my days?

So we went to the shops. And do you know what? It was fine. It was fun! I wore Oscar in the sling and Emerson and Cohen walked beside me. Sure, the first thing they both did was run to the car ride and climb in. I let them sit and play in it and promised they would get a proper ride on the way out if they were well behaved while I ran my errands. As you can see, they got their ride. When my newly 'independent' two year old looked like having a tantrum we stopped, I got down to her level and talked with her. Crisis averted, we moved on. When she started to fuss I popped her in a trolley. When they both looked bored in the grocery store I asked them to help me find things and let them choose between items. I let them put the groceries on the counter, which they love.

I know there will be times when I have my hands full. I know I'll feel frustrated and overwhelmed. I know I'll call my husband or sister and burst in to tears. But I am reminded that I have been a parent for over five years now. I have learnt parenting skills, I've learnt how to multi-task, how to respond, how to problem solve. Yes, if you just gave someone three kids for the first time they wouldn't manage. But these are my children, I know them better than anyone. And while there will be ups and downs, we will manage just fine. And I will be more mindful of how I respond to pregnant women and new Mama's.

Introducing

Introducing Oscar Arlo Allan Lowry
Our 8 pound 7.5 ounce baby boy, who was born at 6.11 am on Tuesday the 27th May, after a beautiful, drug free, natural VBAC.

He is settling in wonderfully, and Cohen and Emerson are doting siblings. I am still on a high after the birth, which was everything I was hoping for. It proved to be a healing experience for me after Cohen's traumatic birth and Emerson's cesarean. I look forward to putting our story in to words and sharing it with you soon. 

Yarn Along

~ Two of my favorite things are knitting and reading, and the evidence of this often shows up in my photographs.  I love seeing what other people are knitting and reading as well. So, what are you knitting or crocheting right now? What are you reading? ~ Ginny

All's quiet on the blogging front, or so it feels. Quiet for lack of words, as my mind is occupied with waiting for baby. Quiet as I add things to my hospital bag, finish sorting and nesting. Quiet as I endeavor to keep the laundry and house work up to date, so when the time comes I can hand my home and children over to family and think only of the birth.

Life goes on and it feels that much is happening, though at the same time it feels as if these moments are just marking time until the birth. It's a strange feeling. It's hard to be completely present. These next two weeks will likely be long indeed! Thank goodness once more for books and knitting. Both of which have been chosen deliberately for their simple natures - to occupy and satisfy, without difficulty or frustration. Firstly, Family Album by Penelope Lively, a novel which has taken me the first third to warm to, with it's simple style, but which I am hoping to finish. Secondly the striped scarf I have been working on. So simple with it's blocks of colour and it's repetitive stitch pattern (K4, P4, repeat until end, repeat each row.)

I feel as if this baby is in no hurry. I went in to labour with Cohen on his due date and he was born the next day. Emerson was born by an 'elective' cesarean only three days before her due date. My guess is 40 weeks and 3 days for this baby. Though if the blog really goes quiet you may well know why!

When did you birth your babies? Before, after or on their due dates?

-

Joining in with Ginny.

Notes on Ravelry.

A birth plan, third time around

After the birth of my first child, where nothing went to plan, I dismissed the wisdom of writing a 'birth plan' in the future. It seemed like a cruel promise of false hope in a situation where anything could happen. The natural birth, without intervention, that I had planned and dreamed about was not to be. No one even looked at my birth plan. Cohen was not fully engaged, his spine was on my spine, my labour stopped and started over 36 hours. After 24 hours I was too exhausted to refuse an epidural, which lead to further interventions, ending with a forceps delivery and a bruised and battered baby and Mama. Far from empowering and beautiful, my beautiful boys birth was traumatic, and in the aftermath I felt overcome by failure.

Before becoming a Mother I believed that the decisions that the Doctors and Midwives would make on my behalf would be what was best for me and the baby. But sometimes being short staffed, inexperienced, for the sake of convenience, or having different personal beliefs, means that what they thought was best for me or my baby, was not what I thought was best for me or my baby. I didn't have the confidence to ask why, to have decisions explained, to ask for other options. I'd always been told that as long as you left the hospital with a healthy baby, how you birthed it was not important. Oh, how wrong that sentiment is, and how women continue to suffer because of it. Of course the way you birth your baby is important. It can affect you for the rest of your life. It took me a long time to overcome the sense of failure, and to recognise that with the right support Cohen's birth could have been very different.

With my approaching second birth, I came to the conclusion that it would be wiser to go with the flow of the birth rather than outline a birth plan. When I was advised that Emerson's birth would be safer by elective cesarean, for reason of my Graves disease, her size and the third degree tear I'd suffered from the first birth, I thought any control or decision making had been taken out of my hands. And despite a satisfying and calm cesarean birth, I still question whether or not is was actually necessary.

How different things are this third time around. My Graves disease has not been an issue this pregnancy. My thyroid has been closely monitored and is behaving itself; following the predicted course (for once.) At my first antenatal appointment at the hospital I was reassured that neither the previous third degree tear, nor the cesarean, were any reason for me not to pursue and be supported in a VBAC (vaginal birth after a cesarean). I have entrusted a beautiful third year midwife student and Mother, Elissa, as part of my support team. She has accompanied me to my antenatal visits, interpreted Doctor jargon and answered my questions. And I have read and researched and come to realise the real importance of writing a birth plan.

This time my birth plan is more than just hoping for a natural birth without intervention. It's not about being in control. It's about expressing my informed, personal decisions about the choices that will need to be made during the birth, after the birth and during the hospital stay. It's a document that covers numerous outcomes, and the details that are important for me.

Without writing out my entire birth plan here, knowing every woman's would be so different depending on what is important to her, some of the things my birth plan includes - requesting that the lights be dimmed and the door shut during the labor and birth, expressing my wish not to have constant fetal monitoring so that I can have an active birth, asking not to be offered drugs, requesting cord clamping be delayed and making known that I would like to be the one to cut the cord (Dave having done the honors the last two times), advising that this baby will be exclusively breastfed and that formula should not be offered, informing the staff that baby will take it's first bath at home, expressing my wishes concerning a cesarean should it become absolutely necessary.

These are all the wonderful, small and important details that after two births, I know I don't want to leave up to strangers. This time I know things don't have to go exactly 'to plan.' There are several plans, where different paths may be taken depending on the circumstances. But in the aftermath I want to have felt that my wishes were respected, my decisions acknowledged and whatever the means of the birth, I want to be left without feelings of regret or failure, knowing I have done everything I could.

25 Week Bump

The bump is now 25 weeks, and like his little sister did, this bubba is taking advantage of the available space to twirl, dance, kick and wiggle. My bump looks very much like it did last time too (with Emerson at 25 weeks), though this pregnancy 'feels' more like my first one. I feel like it's a boy, but we are waiting until the birth to find out. What a wonder and surprise that moment is. I can't wait.

Third time around and I haven't organised a thing at home yet. I'm quite sure at this stage with both my other babies I would have had nurseries done and clothes ready. But this time I feel no hurry. Around 35 weeks I think we will bring the bassinet in to our room and stow an old wicker basket beneath it for babies clothes and sort through the bags of baby clothes and memories I have saved. 

There are so many little moments I love about being pregnant that I shall miss, as this is our last. So many little things to record and remember. Yesterday, Cohen and Emerson both crawled in to bed for early morning cuddles and we spoke about the baby. Cohen can't wait to meet him/her at the hospital, like he did with Emerson, and "hold it and kiss it just like this", as he delicately kissed me all over my cheek.

In the meantime I feel full of creative energy and inspiration. I am enjoying the current pace, which I know will begin to slow all too soon, and new rhythms and routines will be found with a baby in the house once more.

Expectations

Little hands up to it's face and legs crossed - bubba was giving nothing away

I always wanted three children. Well, for as long as I wanted children. I remember as a teenager deciding against the whole crazy idea. My wise Grandmotherly neighbor laughed and told me I would change my mind. How right she was, even if I was slow to do so. I married Dave when I was twenty one, and I don't recall ever actually discussing when, or how many, children we might have. I think I just assumed that it would happen, when we were ready, at some point in the blurry future, and it would be rather simple. That point in time made it's self apparent when I had to have my right ovary removed five years after we were married. No simple matter. My desire to become a Mother came in to sharp focus when the possibility of a full hysterectomy was on the cards. Suddenly there were discussions that needed to take place, assumptions that needed to be pinned down, practicalities to consider. And in my heart, for the first time, I felt that we would have three children. Despite the obstacles.

Several years later, when Emerson was born, our first born was the first to visit her in the hospital. Cohen gazed at his new sister and marveled that she was no longer in my tummy. Waves of emotion passed over me as he held her the first time. I saw before me two precious little lives that came in to existence because of our love. I felt even more of a family now that we were four in number. And despite the difficulties of a 'high risk' pregnancy. Despite the pain after the cesarean. Despite these two pieces of my heart before me, I already knew in that moment I would want another baby. Dave was not as easily convinced...

I think it took Dave at least two weeks for the news of this pregnancy to sink in. He walked around in a daze those two weeks, sleepless and forget, poor man. He really hadn't expected me to fall pregnant while breastfeeding, with one ovary and hyperthyroidism. I'd had my doubts too, and fought against the idea of not having another child. Finally, when I had come to peace with the idea that we may always be a family of four, two lines appeared on a pregnancy test.

Life is a funny thing. Things happen, often with no rhyme or reason, as much as we need to think their is a reason. Sitting here musing on these things I realise that one thing I have learnt throughout our journey from couple to family, is that expectations are difficult things. It's difficult not to have them and it's unlikely that they will be accurate - especially where pregnancy and babies are concerned, in my experience. Now, here we are at 20 weeks with baby number three, when we really didn't expect to make it this far after three weeks of bleeding in the first trimester, and I really don't know what to expect. I'm hoping for a healthy baby. I'm hoping for a natural birth. And I'm hoping, when I see my three children together, I don't suddenly feel like a fourth...

Three's the charm.

Yes, we are expecting baby number three!

I'm so pleased to finally be able to tell you! It feels like forever since our first scan at 6 weeks. There was our baby to be in black and white on the screen, with the tiny flutter of a heart beat. The last six weeks have been a blur of ever present nausea and crushing exhaustion, thus the reason I have been more absent than usual from my blog. I also came down with a virus in the first weeks, which the doctor feared was glandular fever. I came home and cried all afternoon. I could not imagine being pregnant, caring for two children and having glandular fever - remembering well the months of recovery when I was eleven years old. You can imagine my relief when the Doctor called to say the test results were negative. 

Not long after those two pink lines came up, I found out I hadn't been accepted for the Finders Keepers market. I was disappointed, but I had been pushing myself really hard to make new pieces, and what with being pregnant and sick, I decided to give myself a two week break from the bench. I remember sitting with our family at dinner one Wednesday night, after my two week break. We discussed the market and what I planned to do next. Dave and I both agreed that not being accepted was probably a blessing in disguise, given how sick I had been. 

Wouldn't you know, the next morning I received an email to say they had a space for me at the market! I wandered around the house all morning with this piece of information. I changed nappies, made breakfast, tidied up, wandered in to my studio, opened my laptop again and replied 'yes!' Dave was a little surprised. I was a little surprised. But I am not good at doing nothing. Having a goal and a focus to help me through the first trimester seemed like a sound idea. So I promised myself I would just do what I could, little by little, to get ready for my first market. Without pushing myself too hard or getting stressed. I have been managing to fit in the work where I can. I won't have as many pieces as I had first hoped, but I am still really proud of what I have achieved. Especially given that my usual uninterrupted making time vanished with my need to nap each day when the children nap. 

Despite my obvious little baby bump (third child after all), we waited to fully announce the news, only too aware of the risks. Oh, I am not good at waiting, I wanted to shout it to the world. But attempting to be sensible, I had intended to wait even a little longer before sharing the news. However, a few days ago we had quite a scare and thought we may loose the pregnancy. I lost a lot of blood. It was a difficult wait for the ultrasound to confirm whether the pregnancy was viable or not. I feared the worst. A positive outcome seemed so unlikely. After crying all morning I felt numb in the waiting room. As I lay on the table I craned my neck to see the image on the screen. I let the sonnographer do his work until I could wait no longer. "Is it good or bad news?" "Good!" he replied, as he turned on the volume and the sound of a strong heart beat filled the room. I burst in to tears once more. Relief. Joy. Shock. There was our little baby - floating, squirming, waving - on the screen in front of us.

The rest of the test results have been positive. The specialist feels confident about a 'positive result' for the pregnancy. While still a little nervous, I could wait no longer to share the news. After the scare I wanted to celebrate the news of our growing family. I wanted to let everyone know about the little blessing we are expecting. Already the kind words of congratulations and well wishes on instagram and facebook have been a balm to the stresses of the last few days.

I can't express my thanks enough to my family and friends, who all dropped what they were doing and came running when I sent out the call for help. They took care of everything and I knew I was in good hands.

One day I hope to tell our youngest child the story of their pregnancy. I just hope the rest of the story is less eventful. xx