some special words on a special day

Today is a very special day. A year ago Mr Scruff and I got married and as part of the same service we had Little Miss P christened. 


I am currently writing a post all about our Wedding/ Christening day, but in the meantime I wanted to share this poem.


I have posted it on my blog before, but because of how special it is on this day, I am posting it again.


I read it as part of our ceremony to my beautiful little girl. And yes, my voice did break and a tear (or two) was shed.


The Beginning by R.Tagore

"Where have I come from, where did you discover me?" the baby asked its mother.
She answered, half crying, half laughing, and clasping the
baby to her breast,
"You were hidden in my heart as its desire, my darling.
You were in the dolls of my childhood games; 
and when with clay I made the image of my god every morning, I made the unmade you.
You were enshrined with our household deity, 
in his worship I worshipped you.
In all my hopes and my loves, in my life, in the life of my mother you have lived.
In the lap of the deathless Spirit who rules our home you have
been nursed for ages.
When in girlhood my heart was opening its petals, you hovered
as a fragrance about it.
Your tender softness bloomed in my youthful limbs, like a glow
in the sky before the sunrise.
Heaven's first darling, twin-born with the morning light, you
have floated down the stream of the world's life, and at last you
have stranded on my heart.
As I gaze on your face, mystery overwhelms me; you who belong
to all have become mine.
For fear of losing you I hold you tight to my breast. 
What magic has snared the world's treasure in these slender arms of mine?"

A modern mother?

 You'd think the first two weeks after giving birth it will all be about me putting my feet up, sleeping when baby sleeps and eating copious amounts of yummy food that someone else has prepared for me.

AS IF!

I stand here today with the newby draped over my shoulder with hiccups as that's the only position that stops him crying. I have a toddler hanging onto my legs as she adjusts to the new arrival with pangs of jealous and very clingy outbursts. And I have a husband laying on the floor yelping in pain as he has managed to use his paternity leave to damage his back.

The midwives have told me to rest. I have told them I need a large G and T.

Whats in a name?

Yesturday we went to Islington Town Hall and registered Master L. That's it...he's official!

I'm stating the bleeding obvious but naming your child is a huge decision.

It starts off being lots of fun as suggestions come flying from all directions, but as the pregnancy progresses so does the seriousness of our choices.

There were moments of anxiety when we could not agree. We burst each others bubble. And then there were moments of uncertainty when we questioned our decision. Worse of all is the knot I felt when I announced the names to the world. I waited with baited breath for the reaction and curled up inside the first few times I said them 'for real' as it felt, well, wierd.

It's an incredibly personal choice. No right or wrong.

On both occasions we decided not to tell anyone our name choices. We didn't want to be influenced by someone elses reaction and opinion. After all, we all have personal associations with names. But introduce the person along with the name and it belongs to them, and them only!

Mr Scruff and I have given our two kids unusual names. They are the names that appealed to us. I decided I didn't want a name that was in the top 100 list, simply because none of these felt 'right' for us. We wanted something different but not anything out there or made up. We plumped for old English names that exist, and have done for years, but are rarely used nowadays. Maybe you don't know anyone else with their names but if you google my sons first name and surname, there is already a Facebook profile, an extreme cycling journalist and an Alaskan sheriff.

Both our choices have been met with very mixed reactions. I'll nip in here and say that most of the 'reactions' have come from my parents friends and acquaintances. Is it a generation thing? Are we more open minded and sensitive?

When my mum told 'a friend' at her church my daughters name, she responded by saying we were cruel to name her that. Cruel? That's a bit harsh, don't you think?

As Little Miss P has grown, so has the love of her name. It is her through and through and she couldn't possibly suit any other. People love her name, but not as much as we do. In fact I admit I don't like saying it out loud in the playground as I fear it will catch on and not be so unique!

This reaction gave us the confidence to give Master L the name we loved. We know it is going to suit him and we are tickled pink with our choice.

But again, this hasn't stopped people airing their negative views.

Why, oh why would someone want to upset my mum when she is sharing joyous news of her new grandson, by embarrassing her and turning their noses up? Bah. I would ask these so called 'friends' of my folks to please mind their manners.

Sigh. Deeply.

How did you come up with your childs name? I'd love to know what made you choose the name you did and if you cared how others reacted to it....

The baby blues!

After being on such an incredible high for the past week, I have hit a bit of a brick wall.

The baby blues.

It's nothing to stress about, and it is not bothering me as I am pretty sure it will soon pass, but it is here for now.

I was so elated last week that I could recount my birth (a novelty for me after my first birth) and so in shock and in awe that I have a son, that any other emotions were eclipsed.

Today I am feeling tired. Master L is a very slow and sleepy feeder and so it's a long drawn out process. In the night I am trying not to give up prematurely as it just means he wakes up moments after I put him down and the whole palava starts again.

I am also feeling a bit sore. Despite every effort to do as the doctors ordered there is stuff going on 'down below' that is making life, well, uncomfortable! I think I have a few more weeks of sitting and sleeping on my side!

I am going stir crazy. I am not one to sit around relaxing. I get bored and frustrated. I'm desperate to go to the fair in the park, to visit the cool baby shop in the high road, to do the Sainsbury's (!). I know though that my body has gone through a lot and if I get going too soon, I'll burn out quickly!

I am also beginning to feel anxious about what lies ahead. Mr Scruff has one more week off, and I am guessing Master L's drowsy newborn stage is going to last about the same time. Then what? The cries, the cholic, the toddler tantrums, the routine!

It's exciting to think that we are starting a new chapter. It's exciting to think I am going to nurture and love another child. It's exciting to think we are a growing family and all the adventures we are going to have together.....but, by jove, it's daunting!

There's a new bundle in the house

Master L is 6 days old...nearly a week! Already the time is flying by and already he is freaking me out with how he is changing everyday.

The resemblance to Little Miss P is uncanny!

I am getting used to being able to reach the tap to clean my teeth again, eat closer to the table and walk rather than waddle with a huge weight. It also feels weird not crawling around on all fours, doing figure of eights with my hips and bouncing on my gym ball! It's all over Mummy Bear. He's out! He's here!

I am in the babymoon period. I am lulled into a wonderful false sense of security. "Gosh, isn't he a dream baby...sleeps all day and barely squeaks!" Yes, yes I know, give it another couple of weeks and I'll be tearing my hair out as he becomes accustomed to his new environment and finds his voice.

When I had Little Miss P I was upset and traumatised by our birth experience. If I am honest I cannot remember the first three weeks of her life. I spent a lot of the time sitting in the bath crying. This time I feel good. Great in fact. Yes I am a sore - the after pains are making me cringe and my stitches (and whisper it...piles) are making me wince, but I am taking in every minute. In fact I'd go so far as to say I am on a bit of a high after the labour - talk about two extremes.

There are some things and memories that have come flooding back. That sting when he latches on to my boob - ouch. And the smell...oh that smell, of mustard seed yellow poo....! The warmth of his skin against mine. The soft as cotton wool feeling as he flops and nestles into my neck scrunching up his little face as he yawns and stretches his fragile arms and legs and out of proportion sized hands and feet! His feather-like weight. The joy I feel every time he opens his eyes or grips my finger.

He has real life pointed Pixie ears - he'll fit right in at Fairy Cottage!

Little Miss P is doing brilliantly. She came to the hospital so we could travel home as a family. We gave her a little tea set as a present from her new baby brother and she tapped on his little crib to say thankyou. Since then, she has shown nothing but love towards him. Yes, this love can be a little too amorous as I have to control just how affectionately she pats his head. She gets upset when he cries and there have been occasions when she has tried to get my attention when I have been feeding him. But this is to be expected and I am making the most of me and Miss P time when Master L is asleep (er that's all the time), so she knows she is still as special as she always has been. We've all just got to get used to having each other around!

Bonding with her bro

The house is filling up too...new pram, the baby toys, the play mat...muslins, blankets, balls of cotton wool and twice as many nappies. My washing machine has gone into overdrive and we need to open shares in washing up liquid.

enjoying a good stretch

I still cannot believe where we are....two kids, a house.....a family! So as the little'n grows, so must the Scruff household!

My birth story!

Friday 13th August 2010. 9.57pm. 7lbs 9oz. 54cm. Welcome to the world- our son, Master L.J Scruff.

After 40 weeks and 5 days, I was finally able to hold my little boy. Those of you who have followed my pregnancy will know it has not been plain sailing - down syndrome risk in the early months and then unstable lie and polyhydramnious in the last months, this continued right through to the very end. For those who love a good birth story, I will be as detailed as possible. For those who don't, please feel free to skim read!

The build up
My contractions started on Sunday night - my due date. They were continuous throughout the night and were coupled with a show. I knew they were real contractions as I could feel them really low, rather than across. Things were on the move. Then when the clock struck 7am, they stopped. I rang The Birth Center and went along for a check up. We were so convinced it was happening Mr Scruff didn't go to work and came with me. Upon examination I was 2cm dilated and his head was engaged. Glee. The midwife sent me home with strict instructions to have a nice lunch with Mr Scruff, a glass of wine and some sleep. So I did.

Monday night I got more contractions. Strong ones, right into my pelvis. All night I was awake. Again when the clock struck 7am, they stopped. No baby and yet no more sleep. I had a routine check up with the doctors and he too confirmed the baby's head was engaged.

Tuesday night, and yes you guessed it, more contractions and no sleep. And yes, you guessed it again, 7am, nada, zilch, nothing.

Wednesday night was insane. The contractions were coming every ten minutes and were so strong I couldn't even speak. All I could do was hold Mr Scruff around his waist and breath into it, waiting for each to pass so I could rest. This had to be it. Whoopie. 5.57am was the last one. The next thing I knew the alarm went off - 7am and time to get up. All of Thursday I felt deflated. I went to the hospital for a check up and the midwife said my cervix was still thick and I was barely dilated. Boo Hoo. I had an acupuncture appointment and I just cried to the therapist. I was so tired, so teary and so disappointed.

That afternoon I went back to see the homeopath (*), who prescribed me a few different remedies to try. That night I took one, but nothing...not even a rumble. I may not have had any contractions that night, but at least I got some sleep. Sort of.

On friday, I persisted with the homeopathy remedies. At 1pm, I got a super strong contraction and  more show. From then I was getting strong contractions every half hour, with milder ones in between. I stayed calm and indifferent and just played building bricks with Little Miss P. When a contraction came I had to hide my pain from her as she got upset for me. I would just go on all fours and close my eyes pretending it was a game! In fact I could only laugh when she started bouncing on the gymball and swiveling her hips with me. I wrote down the time of every one, but a bit of me kept thinking I've been here before, don't get excited!

At 4pm I called Mr Scruff and said that if he could chip off work a bit early it may be a good idea, plus I fancied some fresh air and didn't want to take Miss P out on my own. In the back of my mind, I knew today was different. On the way to the park I had a contraction at the top of our drive, then at the top of the road. Within a flash they had gone from twenty to thirty minutes apart to six minutes apart. I made it around the park but with lots of strange looks from people (at one point I just had to hold a tree!) I felt scared but so excited. Could this really be it? Time to get the hospital.


At the Birth Center
The walk to the entrance, my heart was racing. I was so scared and excited. The midwife examined me and I was 6cm dilated. She didn't want to prod about too much as my waters were in tact - this would prove a very important decision! It was 8pm and the midwives were changing shifts. By now the contractions were coming regularly - every couple of minutes, but I was managing them well. I found myself hugging Mr Scruffs waist whilst my legs stood to attention like a prima ballerina!

Desperate to get into the huge birthing pool I rang the bell. In walked Sue, my new midwife looking a bit concerned. "We are not sure you should be here or whether you should go up to the labour ward." My heart sank. There was no record in my notes of my consultant saying she was happy for me to come to the birth center as long as baby stayed engaged, even though that is what was concluded. I told the midwife this with a trembling voice. I also said that there is no way I would ever put myself or my baby at risk. She said that the whole time we had been talking I hadn't had a contraction and if I wanted to get into the pool I had better start moving around. As soon as the water hit the bath my contractions started up again. In I hopped.

The labour
With the lights dimmed, the water felt amazing - everything I imagined it would be. Yes the contractions hurt like hell, jeez, but the warmth of the water numbed the pain and gave me a feeling of calmness. I kept telling myself each one doesn't last very long and it will be over soon and then I could just lay back and pull myself together for the the next one. The pure satisfaction of knowing that I was experiencing the birth I had always wanted was all the pain relief I needed.

I then felt a POP. It was like a cork popping - a tornado shooting through the water. I burst out laughing. My waters had broken!

After this things stepped up a level - both in pain and in movement. The second midwife arrived to help deliver. The rubber gloves went on! Mr Scruff held his arms out and I hooked them under my arm pits and let my body completely float and feel weightless as I started to push. It was going so well. I could physically feel him moving down, the water numbing the burning.

My midwifes face changed. "Is that a bum?"

The second midwife looked. "No, they are his lips."

The birth
The alarm was pulled. Within ten seconds I was being helped out of the pool and placed on the bed, all the pillows frantically pulled from under me so I was flat. About ten medical staff had descended into the calm of the birth center and charged my room. The two senior doctors were shouting orders at people. Runners were fetching instruments. My eyes were the size of saucers.

The two senior doctors examined me and the main honcho shouted, "It is chin up, we can deliver." He leaned towards me and said, "This is extremely rare. The baby is coming face first. But we can deliver." The relief in the room was awesome.

He then ordered the second doctor to make a cut to give the baby room. I freaked. As he started to explain why I needed a cut, and as the second doctor prepared the anesthetic needle, my body let out a spontaneous push.

"Baby is out," the doctor shouted.

She quickly unraveled the cord from his neck and with a second push, the baby was then plopped onto my chest.

The pediatrician whipped him away as his arms were in spasm and his face badly bruised.

The senior doctor then came up to me and said. "This is very unusual and interesting for us. You did well." I just reached out and took his hand and said thank you. And with that he and most of the staff were off back to the Labour Ward and work their miracles on another baby.

In my confusion, I asked Mr Scruff, "Is the baby here?"

The baby was bought back to me - the best pain relief as they stitched up my smallish tear.

Poor dude, you can see the bruising on his face and check out those lips - Mick Jagger eat your heart out! No wonder the midwife looked shocked!

Ten minutes later it was just me, Mr Scruff, Sue my midwife and of course our boy. We went over what had just happened. All of us in shock but relieved. Elated and exhausted. And then the amber nectar arrived - the customary tea and toast.

And that was it. The Scruffs were left alone. Mr Scruff and Master L slept but I just lay there going over what an amazing, freaky experience we had just had.

The next morning Sue came in to see us. We were the talk of the maternity unit. She had done some investigating and explained that Facial Presentation only occurs in 0.2% of deliveries. It is usually picked up upon examination at arrival to hospital as the midwife can feel the facial features. But the baby can also just look up at any time on his journey down the birth canal. It is completely unpredictable. Because it is a wider descent down the birth canal it usually results in an emergency C-Section. She even thanked me for the experience as she said you learn about it at college but so few get to experience it for real. Thanks to my amazing birth center and my water time, I was relaxed enough, and Master L was relaxed enough to do it all on our own.

I feel so proud of all of us. Our boy never got distressed, his heart rate remaining constant throughout and neither did I. We got to experience the ambiance of The Birth Center and the water pool. And in keeping with the pattern of this pregnancy, there was the dramatic finale.

Friday the 13th is unlucky for some. For us, it is a date that a dream came true.

A day on and the bruising has gone down super quick. We are all just getting to know each other and slowly introducing him to the world he was so keen to look up and see!!

(* I will go into more detail about my experience of Homeopathy during the final stages of my pregnancy in another post, as I found it really interesting, so hoping you will too)

The lack-of-labour party.

Before you think I've dropped off the planet...or indeed dropped, I thought I'd better let you know, that I haven't. Meh.

I am now 40 + 5 days...officially overdue and unofficially fed up.

There have been moments of pure excitement with contractions coming thick and fast. At one point we were at a steady 7 minutes (the joy, and the pain, was overwhelming). And then suddenly they stop.

There's been a show...but still no show.

I have walked, rested, bounced, paced, meditated, yet still he remains unmoved.

I've been prodded and poked by midwifes and doctors (who, I am finding contradict each other constantly, leaving me very confused and really very anxious) as they still fuss and fret over fluid levels, positioning and future plans.

But, I know he is on his way, by hook or by crook (and this may be literally, eek), he will make his grand entrance.

Until then, dear readers, please forgive my lack of posts, but it is very hard to type on all fours, whilst eating a spicy curry and visualising him tunneling through my 'soft jelly-like pelvis'.

But before I bounce off, may I please ask a favour? If you can spare your angels (or just some positive vibes), please do send them my way! I need to get this party started!

x

A few of our favourite things!

When it comes to toys, Mr Scruff and I consider every purchase carefully. It wasn't a conscious decision. It's just she hasn't really needed or wanted many, shunning anything that flashes and talks for a saucepan and wooden spoon. Plus there is the financial implications - we could faint at the prices of kids toys! But what she does have she relishes. These are a few of her favourite things......

Nothing pleases her more than following us around the house with her mop and broom cleaning set from the Early Leaning Center. When Mr Hoover comes out to play, she runs as fast as she can to fetch her push along doggy on a stick, which doubles up as a fantastic vacuum. To think only a few months ago she was scared stiff of the hoover.

When it comes to quiet play (chortle, as if), the stacking cups and building bricks come out along with her intense concentration and delicate touch as she places one brick ever so carefully on top of the other. In the last few days she has reached really impressive heights with her towers. She applauds herself after every successful placement and gets equally excited when they all come tumbling down.

we are training her for the world record!

 Her cuddly toys are showered with love and kisses. Having been ignored since birth, the cuddly crew are now the object of Miss P's affection. She kisses them so hard that her whole body shakes.

mmmmmmwah

 The sandpit (from ELC) has been a godsend this summer. Housed in the shady corner of our patio, Little Miss P wiles away the time transferring sand from her pit into her Sainsbury's wheelbarrow, tipping it into her bucket and then emptying the bucket on the sofa/ floor/ flower pot...

yes, all that sand will end up on the sofa

"Stick" is the word of the week. And by stick she means the verb not the noun! Mr Scruff gets given lots of BBC childrens magazines containing sheets of stickers. They have now found there way all over the house, AND all over us!

Mr Scruff spent a day at work oblivious to two Upsy Daisy stickers on his shirt

 This week we were given an old kids play tent. Miss P yanks at it egging us to pop it up in the lounge. She then enters and sits in there quite happily, like its her secret den, playing with her cards.

Little Miss P in her hide out

Ah her cards. A great Christmas present from my brother. Quite simply its a box containing packs of word and picture cards. Funny, you can pile and mix all one hundred cards up in a mess and she will dig deep and find her favourite one...pulling it out and thrusting it in our faces with glee. The word.....

BIKE. Mr Scruff cycles to work everyday, without exception. Every weekend he tinkers with his bike, without exception. Little Miss P loves daddy's bike. Last weekend we bought her first shiny new trike. The Raleigh Ollie Trike. We like it because it feels like a real bike, but we can easily push her around the park using the handle tipping it back onto its back wheels, whilst she builds her confidence and steering skills! We saw it on Evans website for nearly £80, but after a google search, we found a brand spanking new one for a mere £23.99, with free postage. Two days later she was peddling round the park, waving at every other bike that she passed like she is now part of the club.

Speed demon

 As if thats not enough, this week I also found her a Little Tikes Cosy Coupe and rocking horse on Gumtree for £15 for the pair. They are well used but have plenty of life in them. Miss P is OBSESSED with the car, and hasn't stopped beeping away. And yes I have tried to get in it myself. And yes I did get stuck.

Beep Beep

 And finally, my mum in a bid to wean her off 'Beebies', bought a kiddy etch-a-sketch from Asda (a fiver, I think). Well. She hasn't stopped squiggling. My mum even had to fetch another one to scan at checkout as Miss P wouldn't let hers go. I think its brilliant as its teaching her how to draw, hold a pen, squiggle and create drawings, without a single bit of mess for me to clear up! Genius.

Our future Picasso

Have you got a toy to recommend! I'd love to hear about it as there is nothing better than a tried and tested!

39 weeks...

After my hideous appointment with the doctor earlier on in the week where every focus was on the worse case scenerio, I am back on track.

Head is down, fluid levels have dropped dramatically and I am sick of the sight of hospitals. Can I please be left to go into labour now?

emotions: good. I really believe in all the hocus pocus I have tried...The homeopathy, the moxa sticks etc. Whether they helped turn the baby I don't know but I have for the first time in a looooooong time, got really excited about meeting my son. A white feather even landed on my foot today - a sign my angels are with me (humour me please).

size: stretched beyond believe. I can no longer get myself up from sitting without the aid of a hoist.

sleep: impossible

Stretchmarks: yes yes, and cellulite too.

name: sorted! We had a wobble but feel quite satisfied now.

sibling: Now Miss P is back in the cot harmony and peace has resumed. She still kisses my tummy and looks at the car seat now reinstalled with a quizicle eye.

Feeling: cooked and ready...come on little fellow, we are all gagging to meet you!