My mum knits yellow booties.

She started knitting them after William died. She doesn’t do it for money, she does it because she loves me and I asked her to.

When I was trying to conceive I read about an old wive’s tale. It went something along the lines of;  a pair of yellow booties knitted and given to a couple trying to conceive, would bring them good luck in fertility and a pregnancy would occur soon after the gifting.

Pffft, you might be saying, that’s stupid, just a myth… but is it?

The first pair of booties she knitted was for a friend, who was struggling to conceive.

She fell pregnant the month after they were given to her. When she and her partner started to try for number two, the booties went straight into their pillowcases and now another baby is on the way.

She has knitted about a dozen pairs now, all of them resulting in beautiful babies. The second last pair she knitted was for a friend who had already done three cycles of IVF and nothing had worked. I knew she was very fragile, not knowing whether to try again and so it was with trepidation that I gave her the booties with the story attached.

I didn’t see her again until late last year, with her daughter.

She came up and gave me the biggest hug and said that they had taken the booties home and slept with them leading up to the forth and final cycle. When she went for the transfer of the embryo, they were in her handbag and in there still when she got a positive blood test. She said they brought her hope.

Maybe that’s what it is. Maybe it is the symbol of hope, these tiny little yellow booties that brings about a mindset, a little bit of magic.

You want more proof?

Still not a believer?

The last set of yellow booties she made were given to me on Mother’s day, 2005. Not one pair but two, presented in a little box.

On June 1st, I discovered I was pregnant again and about two weeks after that, I found that we were expecting twins.

Got gooseys?

I always get them when I think of all the babies that have worn mum’s yellow booties home from the hospital.

Now she’s knitting them again because there are new friends who need to hope, just a little.

In a life before that, I was a student midwife and I recorded the first few births and my feelings about them. (Before that I was a cardiac nurse).

So tonight I thought I’d share it.

Just for something different.

Just so you can see another part of who I am.

Without mentioning the kids.

Sharon

My first witness! Such a nice couple, second baby. A textbook birth. What a beautiful amazing mother! So silent and tuned into her own body. Transition was there! BANG! In your face, so like everything that you read and hear about. The midwife was amazing. So good at grounding the mum. Turning her negative thoughts into positive ones. They worked so well together, the midwife and the mum. A boy! A beautiful boy! Birth is magical and frightening and amazing. I am privileged to be a part of it.

Kelly

Kelly laboured beautifully. It was not her fault that the baby came out flat. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t help with the resuscitation and I couldn’t help with Kelly. I stood there. The babe was taken away to the resus room where the doctors started working on him. So much like my own experiences. I can’t cope, I can’t breathe! I went into Kelly but I still couldn’t tell her what was happening. I smoothed it over and made everything look pretty. Just what I didn’t want to do. I wanted to be honest but the words jumped from my mouth. ‘It will be okay’. I was ashamed of myself for not being able to tell her what she needed to know. I ran away from the ward and from the hospital. What sort of a midwife will I be? Not a good one, at the rate I am going. I didn’t understand a lot of what was happening. The whole room was spinning. Out of control, so out of control. So many tears. I don’t think I’m going to make it.

Robyn

First time Mum. Labouring for a while. Bewildered by the pain. ‘I can’t do it, I can’t do it’! Yes, you can. Dad is there. He hasn’t slept for 48 hours and counting, so tired, yet so excited, can’t relax, can’t sleep, the baby’s almost here! Midwives buzzing around, where do I fit in? Can I help with anything? Move this, get that, at least I am busy too. Here he comes! Push, Robyn, Push! A boy, another gorgeous boy, he’s perfect. A chance to help with the breastfeeding while the midwife repairs a very meaty looking peri. I don’t think that girl will EVER walk straight again! OUCH! The peri repair looks hard and no matter how hard I look I can’t see an apex. Will I ever be able to do that? Midwifery is everything that I am not…confidence, strong heartedness. Will I make it out there? I’m not sure.

Helena

A beautiful positive lady. Inquisitive. Lets me do my first VE. Perfect! 8cm, anterior position. I can feel the fontanelle! A well flexed baby, waiting to be pushed out into the world. Pushing with the contractions, working hard. Scrub up ?!?!? ME???? I’d love to but I’m so scared. My throat is dry. Hands over hands. Wet, slippery baby, I can’t do it. Pulling my hands away. He’s out, so new, smelling earthy, almost coppery. Midwife is great, confident, has faith in me. ME! How can this be? Yes, I’d like to help with the placenta. Oh no! There’s the cord and membrane but where is the placenta??? Still there? Fundus is rising, oh no! Did I do that? Synto pushed up. Waves of pain passing through the mum. Will she have to go to theatre? Yes, no, yes, no… Here is the doctor, a manual removal! Lots of gas, mum, nice deep breaths.It’s out, no problems. What a brave mum. So, a simple straight forward birth becomes complicated and I still don’t know if I had anything to do with it.

Angela.

Early in the morning. Do you want to come in? 4th baby, 6cm dilated. Hurry, you’ll miss it! I arrive just in time! Mum is standing! I have never seen this positioning before. So amazing, natural. Pants the head out and the body follows. Midwife catches the slippery mass. Oh! A girl! My first girl! Zoe, Life. No tears, placenta comes away, intact. This is the way it should be. Beautiful family, glowing. Restored faith, this happy, encouraged, exhausted student drives home to her own sweet babies.

Leah

Another early morning delivery. It’s raining and I think the Mum has changed her mind about having a student midwife in the room. The Dad is looking lost, I think he feels as unwanted as me. Midwife is possessive. I’m a watcher again and a go- for too. That’s okay. Not much time to talk. Things are moving quickly. Internal reveals a lip! Use the gas! Don’t push! Don’t push!! Okay, PUSH. Concentrate your energy! Don’t waste it swearing and hating your husband.Boy oh boy! ANOTHER little guy! Precious, soft, little being. Welcome to the world!Mum is mad, not sutures, again! Midwife is insistent.

Allison

Midwife calls. ‘Come back in, Mum is moving along and is happy for you to be there’. When I arrive I know she doesn’t really want me there. Not a student. Midwife is wonderful, encouraging, teaching. I feel comfortable for the first time in ages. Change of shifts. Okay, I can do this. Mum is moving fast, third babies do that. A very tough peri, very tight. Trying hard to save it. Small pushes. Out comes the head and the midwives start shuffling. This is a bad sign. Lights and trolleys and oxygen is switched on. Out he comes! What is it with the boys? I know I am meant to be doing something. The baby is stunned, not moving and blue. Does he have a strong heart? The midwife asks, I don’t know, I can’t feel anything except my own head pumping. She grabs the suctioning and another midwife rubs the baby down, around my hulking body. How useless am I with the mask and bag in my hands? Think student, THINK! This is not your birth! Wake up (I do) Bag the baby! (I do) Oh my God! Come on little guy! You can do it! The midwife is rubbing his feet, his inner energy spot. Come on, breathe, breathe. He’s pinking up! Thank God! See? He’s crying and breathing, we did it. Tears. Relief. I feel like vomiting. My head is thumping. The midwife brings me back to earth. Let’s do the Apgar’s. Yes, let’s. A newborn check? Yes, I can do that. I think I was just in the way. Did I do anything to help? The midwives are quiet, silently debriefing, in their mind’s eye. Every delivery is a new challenge.

Tracey

Tracey calls me, Can I meet her there? Yes, I wouldn’t miss it! How exciting! Meeting a babe who I have watched from 20weeks gestation. Here she is, labouring quickly, silently. The perspiration on her upper lip, those guttural noises! She MUST be close! Are you sure it’s okay for me to do a V.E.? Yes! I think she is fully but the midwife says no, just 7cm. Tracey is pushing, maybe I was right, it was five minutes after, multi’s do that, you know… Try the birth stool, no, not right, back on all fours! What???? Get my gloves on?! Quick, I can see the head… crowning, oh! Here he comes!!! Where are the midwife’s hands? Nowhere near mine… listening to foetal hearts way up there, shouldn’t she have her hands over mine? Try to puff him out Tracey, no, you can’t, here he comes, his head is out! Next contraction, here comes his shoulder after a perfect restitution. He’s here! Beautiful Sean! Little ‘spout’ Nice to meet you after all this time. Tracey is amazing. That sigh of relief and then a cuddle as the placenta comes. So empowering. THIS is why I want to be a midwife.

Our caesarean was originally booked for the 23rd of December and their estimated date of delivery was the 12th of February.

They were born at 30 weeks gestation.

On this day the Feast of Saint Andrew is celebrated. Interestingly the first day of advent.

Our good doctor’s name was Andrew. (Coincidence, fate oR just plain creepy, you decide).

When I was pregnant with the first set of twins, it was after a struggle with three years of infertility.

When I was pregnant with the second set of twins, it was after the loss of our son. The struggle of grief and guilt.

When I was pregnant with my first set of twins, I didn’t have a day of morning sickness.

When I was pregnant with my second set, I was sick every day until they were born. Morning, noon and night.

When I was pregnant with set number one I took everything, after the first twelve weeks, for granted.

With the second set, every day was a gift.

Pregnancy with Imogen and Madeline was innocent and new -  that first flutter, kick, roll. The smells, cravings and body changes.

Pregnancy with Ivy and Noah was scary. I did not take the time to enjoy and appreciate all those blessings.

When I was pregnant with my first set of twins, I was young and niave.

With the second set, I felt old and jaded. 

When I was pregnant with Imogen and Madeline, I didn’t know the sex of my babies until they were born. The ultrasound was a fairly new diagnostic tool.

When I was pregnant with Ivy and Noah, I not only knew that I was carrying a boy and a girl, I had 3D ultrasonic photos of their…um…private parts.

The first twins’ ultrasound, David almost fell off his chair and remained silent and pale for hours.

The second twins’ ultrasound was…almost identical (with the exception that David did not enquire if the second embryo floating on the screen was a fault in the machine).

With the first set of twins, I was ‘over it’ by the time I was 28 weeks.

With the second set, I was grateful to make it to 28 weeks.

But with both, as with all the others, above everything else, I was just happy to achieve pregnancy.

Now that I can’t have any more babies, I long for pregnancy even more.

This entry is part of the Crazy Hip Blog Mamas Collaboration.

Come in, come in! Don’t be shy!

Grab a chair and a coffee, grab a biscuit or some chocolate if you like, go on, help yourself. There’s plenty to go around.

First time here? Yes, I know there are alot of them, aren’t there? Yes, it’s always busy, sometimes chaotic but each and every one of them is special, just as they are.

What’s that you ask? What are the best things about their ages?  Do I like one stage better than another?

Is there an age that isn’t a good age? All have their challenges, that’s true but every year a child is on the earth is a miracle in itself. There is good in turning another year older, for the child and for the parents.

Which age should I talk about? I could really go on forever but I know you’re only here for a little while.

The eleven year olds, who you can enjoy a  long conversation with? The kids who are changing before your very eyes from little ones into teenagers, reminding you how life is ever moving. Watching them grow is an amazing honour.

Perhaps I should talk about how nice it is to have nine year olds. A time when life is full of adventure and discovery and imagination. When friends are important but a snuggle in bed with Mum and Dad in the morning is still the most treasured thing. For everyone. When dolls are just as cool as an MP3 player. When toilet humour is the funniest thing you have ever heard. They really make me smile.

Or maybe I could tell you all the great things about having twins just shy of turning two. You’d like that? Okay.

I think though you should know a bit about their past, just so you know how far they’ve come.

They were born at thirty weeks. So, about ten weeks early. They were sick in the NICU for a while with breathing problems and your run of the mill premmie issues. We brought them home just before they were due.

For a long time they didn’t do much, so we had to take them to an early intervention centre to encourage them to roll and sit and stand. I think from about the time they were fifteen months, they just sort of took off.

So here they are. They turn two next month. They are smart and funny and cute. I love that they stumble in at dawn for a cuddle. That David and I are their whole world. It’s amazing how fluent their words have become, how in just two years, they have learnt to speak in sentences. The things they say make me laugh, in a way I haven’t in a while. When they say cute things, it kind of makes me tingly all over.

It’s a great age, don’t you think? When everything is wonderous and special. It makes you look at the world with a new perspective. They find joy in the smallest things. A bird in the tree, singing, a ladybug on a leaf. Paddling in water and turning it into mud and then stomping in it so hard it splashes up onto their face!

They really love life, enjoy it to the fullest. It’s so refreshing.

I love watching their personalities evolving.

I know the little man is social and easy going. He gets tired easily and loves his snuggles. He’s a routine junky and if it is different than the norm, he doesn’t cope well.He’s a bit of a charmer with the ladies, you know. He flashes those big dimples and you’re all his. You can’t help but love him.

I’ve figured out that the little girl is shy with new people. She needs time to work you out but once she has, she is loyal to the end. I know too that she is serious and a thinker but that she also has a cheeky side. She is spirited and hardly stops for anything, she moves all day, there are very few quiet moments for her, except when she is sick.

They both have a bit of mischief in them but then, I guess that is part of being two, don’t you think?

What else is good about this age?

They understand what you are talking about, can follow direction. That’s pretty cool…and it’s cute as well.

My two are really into books, well, the boy is and the girl likes to chew on them, so she’s interested  but in a different way! Oh, and they are starting to have favourite things like Dorothy the Dinosaur from The Wiggles. It’s so adorable, it makes my heart melt.

I am really enjoying this age.

Yes, they are my last babies, so you are probably right, I don’t want to forget a thing but; you know what? Watching them also reminds me of the others at that age. It makes me wonder about what their future is going to be like. Watching the twins at this stage reminds me of how much I love the others too, how much I have enjoyed their journey as well.

How old did you say your little person is? I’d love to hear all about your favourite things about their age. Have you got time for another cuppa?

This post was written as part of  Mamablogga’s Group Writing Project for October. Why don’t you give it a try?

Courtesy of Ivy, consumer of all (supposedly) inedible products.

*Disclaimer: I have older kids who have repeatedly been told to put their small things away. These have been confiscated, thrown away and/or donated to goodwill shops. I am as vigilant as a mother can be but the girl still manages to swallow things.

* Tinselpoo (festive Christmas edition 2006, self explanatory).

* Easter egg tinfoil poo (I can only assume that there was a secret stash of chocolate eggs involved)

* Scrapbooking metal letter "F" poo (don’t ask. I don’t know how it got in her mouth or how she managed to swallow it without injury or how it worked its way through her system).

* Tamagotchi battery poo (see above disclaimer).

* 1 Barbie handbag and 1 Barbie shoe poo (colour co - ordinated, at least…pink and brown go well together, don’t they?).

* Azure blue wishing stone x 1 poo… followed by…

* Azure blue wishing stones x 5 (!!!!!!) poo (David almost passed out when he saw that one).

I had no idea where the stones were coming from until I followed her into her sister’s room one day to find a small vase full of them. She was getting up onto a toybox and helping herself to what, I can only imagine, she thought were lollies, from the tall boy! (Quickly taken away and thrown out).

* Littlest Pet Shop bottle (please refer to disclaimer again).

* Moth poo (after a day in the backyard. This surprise also included a couple of other insects which were not identifiable due to their chewed up nature. Yuck).

* Birthday candle poo (following my birthday, stolen from the dish drying rack. One blue and one red).

There have been others but those are the most memorable. I have never had a child who ate so many weird things before. I thought she was slowing down/growing up/losing interest after the moth incident. We went a few weeks where there was nothing but…well…poo in her nappies, however, after the birthday candle poo I am thinking she was just giving her tummy time to settle after eating bugs. *SIGH*

A friend phoned me last night. She asked me if I imagined my life would be like this, when I met David, when I was 17. She asked me if I ever imagined I would have so many children. The simple answer to that is; no.

I knew that I wanted kids from a young age. When we talked about children, David wanted two and I wanted four. The only thing we could agree on was that we wanted an even number of children so nobody was left out. I certainly didn’t think about the logistics of being a mum.

So what is Motherhood to me?

It’s all those things that everyone said it would be, it’s sacrifice, it’s full on, it’s the hardest job I have ever done. It’s wonderous and amazing and brings me so much happiness. It’s love and contentment and brings a fullness to each and every day in mind, body and soul. 

Mostly though motherhood is about learning.

As a mum, you are always teaching life skills but as a mum, I am also the perpetual student. I learn new things every day. About myself, about my children and I am still learning life skills!

When I first became a mum to twins, Imogen and Madeline, they taught me about selflessness, about the big picture. They taught me about patience (It took three years to conceive them) and understanding. I think they also taught me about time management and the importance of boundaries. On a funny note, they also taught me never to carry two babies upstairs, naked, when they have gastro…very messy!

Lily came into my life (about 9 months after the above bout of gastro). Lily taught me to really enjoy motherhood. She taught me to appreciate all the little things. When Lily came into my life, my father told me I was stupid for having more children, that I should be concentrating on a career, a house and having all the finer things in life. It was Lily’s birth that gave me the strength to stand up to him, tell him that family was more important to me than anything else. Although she was a surprise, she was a Godsend.

AJ and Malachy came into our home when they were four and three. I am not their biological mother but they are still my children. Through the boys I know about compromise. I know about overcoming terrible situations, adaptation, about hanging in there when you want to give up. I know about a longing to protect and a different kind of love, one that I have sometimes had to work at but one that is very much alive.

Four years after Lily, our first son, William, was born and died five days later. From Will I learnt about absolute devastation, a love that is so strong that I can still feel its presence every day. I learnt the beauty of letting go, I learnt to find and rely on my mother strength and I learnt that I could keep going, fuelled by the love of my children.

My last set of twins, Ivy and Noah, were born at 30 weeks in 2005 about a year and a half after William’s death and after a very scary pregnancy but it is with these children, my last, that I have learnt some of the most valuable lessons. As a mother to these precious miracles I have learnt to hope. Over the last twenty one months, they have taught me to feel joyous about motherhood again, at times when I felt there was no joy left in me. I have realised that I am a mother first and foremost and that, even though it can be a difficult, exhausting, sometimes thankless job, motherhood means everything to me.

It’s my life.

Oh, and I also learnt to appreciate my own mother much more than I ever did as a child.

This topic was published as part of MamaBlogga’s Group Writing Project. The theme is motherhood. It’s my first attempt.

Why don’t you give it a go?

Here is a joke as told by a 3rd grader (column 8, Sydney Morning Herald) ; Q:Where do the horses go when they have the flu? A: They go to the horse - pital!!!

It seems there is alot of that going around, the flu I mean and sneezing. When you are the mother of atopically challenged children, you don’t hate Spring but you don’t love it either. The weather here has been the typical asthma inducing type, gloriously and unseasonably warm in the day, with hot gusts of wind and freezing at night. Out of the seven children, four are currently dealing with their asthma. For the older girls, it’s more a case of compliance to their medication and upping the dose accordingly but for Ivy and Noah it is a series of nebulisers, preventers and then prednisone when things get bad…and nebbing two cranky toddlers every three hours is about as bad as it can be (for me) before we seek hospital admission.

Although, I am slowly (so slowly) coming to the realisation that gaining admission to hospital in the boonies is harder than it is in the big smoke.  Personally, I think it has more to do with paeds than with anything else. When Imogen and Madeline were little and I was inexperienced in asthma induced problems, I would ring their paed (a wonderful female doctor) and she would see me. In later years, we had a standing letter for the hospital and if I phoned the doctor she would more often than not meet us in the children’s ward. She was, in my opinion, a true paediatrician. Not only did she look after the girls’ well being but when their parents were getting a touch of the crazies, she could see it and would use her ‘assertive practitioner skills’ to guide us into hospital, so that we could have support too. She was a Godsend. Fast forward eleven years and my how things have changed!

Now, you can’t even get in to see your paed. You have to beg the receptionist for five minutes of his time. When you make a mercy call in the morning, if you are lucky, he will call you back at dinnertime…when the babies have really lost the plot, are crying at the top of their lungs, other children are scattered throughout the house in varying stages of undress, showering or getting redressed, because, on top of everything else, you have agreed to let the school aged children go to the fundraising disco, which has been scheduled for, you guessed it, dinnertime.

If you say you are not coping and that your week is like a living hell, the new age paed will be encouraging of your feelings of self doubt by belittling them and cussing about how horrible his week has been. (Of course it is impossible for a lowly SAHM/midwife to have a worse week than a doctor). If you then concede to being able to cope at home for a few more days on the understanding that you will be able to see him first thing Monday morning, you can then expect to be told that his schedule for that day is ‘disasterous’ and he can only squeeze you in at 8am (breakfast time and leaving for the bus time).

Unless you throw a mother (pardon the pun) of a tanty and tell the doctor that you are not going to make one more decision regarding the health of your babies because HE is the doctor and should be ‘guiding’ we parentals (medical training or no), do not expect the millenium paed to aquire ‘assertive practitioner skills’ anytime in the forseeable future. You see, he does not want to make the wrong choice at the risk of being sued. AAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!

While I very much like our paed, I find him very frustrating…hang on, there is a common thread here. I find all doctors frustrating! Well, what do you know? Is that what they call an epiphany?

2. Five point harnesses are useless and are not a safety feature on your stroller or your highchair when you have almost two year olds. They are pointless (and hard to clean post pumpkin poo blow outs). It doesn’t matter how you attach the shoulder straps, ’norties’ babies are alot smarter than ‘nineties’ babies and they will wriggle out of them. ( An anonymous contributor suggested that the shoulder straps should go once around the neck before joining to the belt. I’m a little skeptical about this proposal but I have to say, as time passes, it is becoming a seemingly plausable idea. The same contributor just asked if I could swipe restraints from the hospital and use them… for him, me or them?).

3. It doesn’t matter how many times you ask a baby to get down from the top of the outdoor table, remove him, beg him, he will not learn that what he is doing is dangerous until he falls off and bangs his chin and draws blood.

4. There is no point in making a chicken and cheese sandwich for almost two year olds. By the time they are finished disassembling them and eating the parts that they want and throwing the other parts to the dogs, you come to the realisation that you may as well have just given them bread and butter.

5. When you have toddlers in the house, it is wise to invest in at least one dog otherwise you will spend all of nap time cleaning up after meals.

At least, that is what he looked like at 4am this morning when he was in my bed trying to evict my eyeballs from their sockets. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a blue and white striped Bonds suit and the most devilish of grins, dimples included.

Why, oh why won’t my babies sleep through the night? When I took them home from the NICU the nurses commented on how lucky we were to have NICU trained babies. ‘They’re in a good routine’, they said, ‘they’ll just wake and feed, wake and feed’, another commented.

Look, don’t get me wrong, that is great when you bring them home, newborn from the hospital.When you are happy to baby gaze and you want to feed them every three hours, when you are floating on the pink fluffy clouds of euphoria. The trouble is, they can’t seem to break that routine and they are ALMOST two!!!! Two! Those pink, fluffy clouds are looking awfully grey and stormy, right about now.

For goodness sake, I am so sleep deprived! I can’t think straight anymore. Give me a break!(Please)

Here are some hints for Ivy and Noah (and any other babies out there who refuse to sleep through the night);

Do NOT come into my bed unless you want to snuggle down and sleep. If you want to seek and destroy, then do it in your own room. Mummies and Daddies need to sleep, otherwise they get cranky in the day. You, know, that time when you want them at their best, so they can dote upon you?

If you wake up very early in the morning, it will not put you in good stead to demand a ‘bockle’ (bottle) and then hit me in the face when it is not forth coming. No amount of hitting will get me or your father up in the freezing cold to get you a drink.

If you wake up in the middle of the night, do not get out of bed and wake up your brother or sister as well. We will be alot friendlier if there is only one baby to put back to sleep. Two wailing babies is just asking for trouble.

If you have to wake up can you please do it half an hour BEFORE we go to bed, not half an hour AFTER? If you haven’t guessed by now, when parents go to bed, they are exhausted and are asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow. Half an hour in is serious REM time and you are interrupting the most restful part of the night.

Finally, if you do happen to wake several times during the night (and expect us to get out of bed to resettle you), when Mummy says it’s time for a day sleep, know that she means it. Know that you running around in overtired hyperactivity mode makes Mummy more tired. Mummy saying time for sleep is not an invitation for you to start up a conversation of babble with your sibling. It is not the time to do a poo in your clean nappy and it is not the time to chant some baby mantra at the top of your lungs. Sleep means sleep (and time out for your worn out caregiver…often a first opportunity to shower and have some nutrition for the day so that she has the energy to bend to your every whim).

P.S. Another little hint; even just one night of full sleep will do wonders for the Mummy and the Daddy. Take that into consideration when you go to bed tonight.