Tag Archives: Macca

How Life can change in a Heartbeat

by . Posted on
07 Aug

We have been happy and relaxed and really enjoying being a family again after Ged finally finished stage one of the solar inspections (30,000 kms in 3 months).  I have been revelling in unbroken night’s sleep as he gets up for Ben in the night and I have to do a lot less chop wood and carry water when he is around.  Plus I get to go for a run every day (yay!) so everything was looking rosy.

Then I woke up in th emiddle of the night when Ben woke up and called out as usual.  I felt the other side of the bed for Ged but he wasn’t there so I presumed he was already up for him.  I must have gone back to sleep for a minute or two and then Ben called again and I listened for Ged, thinking ‘where is he?’  And I heard a truly horrible noise.  It sounded like the Thermomix we had borrowed the weekend before kneading dough.  Sort of harsh, grating and groaning.  So I got up and went to investigate.

Ged was unconscious in a pool of blood, sprawled over the bathroom floor in a pool of urine, with his head resting on the side of the bath which had burst his cheek, just under his eye, as he made contact.  His eyes were wide and staring with pupils like pinpricks and I tried to lift him, to communicate with him, to shake him, wake him, to no avail.  Meanwhile I was trying to keep Ben out of the bathroom and calm him down.  Finally (it seemed like forever!) Ged came too and was able to lie down on a towel I put on the floor.  Of course the recovery position didn’t even cross my mind.  I realised immediately that his cheek would need stitching so told Ben we would have to go to the hospital for the doctor to sew up Daddy’s cheek, just like he had to go and get his chin glued up when he fell on the slippery slide.  I set him to packing a bag with toys and books while I tried to sort Ged out.  He was groaning and swearing by this time so I had to try and shut him up!  He managed to sit up and then threw up. I ran a lukewarm bath and he managed to sit in it.  Needless to say I was dosing everyone up with Emergency Essence and, as usual, at my best in a crisis!

Got us all dressed and organised and in the car by about 3.30 and to the hospital by 5.  No one there so he was straight into triage.  They had him on a bed and an ECG within 5 minutes and then discovered that while he hadn’t had a heart attack, his heart was in extreme distress with arrhythmia.  Watching the numbers on the ECG was like watching some sort of random numbers game, 138, 32, 114 etc.  Ben was terrified and refused to stay near the Daddy who was hooked up to all these machines and insisted on returning to the waiting room to read stories with me.  He came in again for a brief moment or two while the young and lovely Doctor (I am definitely getting old – they are all little more than teenagers!) told us that Ged’s heart was all over the place and he would be staying put for the time being.  Ben and I went home.  I was ever hopeful that Ben would sleep and so he did for almost 20 minutes until we pulled up outside the door and then he was awake and adamant that he was not going back to bed, despite being up since 2.30am.

And thus began a surreal day.  Ben got to watch the Gruffalo three times while I did the washing up and ‘thunk’ – that we don’t have insurance for Ged, that we can’t afford to lose him, that we lose everything if anything happens to him, that I want him to get fit and slim and spend a long and healthy life with him . . .

And every few hours I would ring the hospital where Ged was being wheeled from test to test and seeing specialists etc.  He passed out again when they stitched his face – lucky he was lying down.  Finally at the end of the day they moved him into a private room and out of the Emergency ward so he could sleep.  Ben and I somehow got through an extraordinary day.  The poor child was as much in shock that his mother let him watch TV all morning, than that his father, so recently returned to us, was in hospital.

Suffice it to say we all slept extremely well that night.  And thankfully Ged’s heart was beating better in the morning.  Ben and I decided to visit him after lunch (so hopefully Ben would sleep in the car – ha, ha, this eternal hope of mine is laughable!) By the time we were on our way the hospital had decided to release Ged and he was, according to the nurse, in the ‘transit’ room.  Air side or land side I was tempted to ask . . .

But Ged told me he was being sent home with no monitoring equipment or any guarantee that this wouldn’t happen again so of course I went ballistic.  The nurse knew nothing about his case.  So I called in reinforcements.  I rang Macca and she agreed that he couldn’t come home to the farm without some sort of halter monitor.  She knows only too well what the hospital is like (she used to work there) so she put on her battle armour and said she’d meet me there.  She got there before me and woke Ged up from snoozing in his armchair.  He wasn’t surprised, he knows me well, he just raised his eyes to heaven and said ‘Hi Macca, she called in the artillery, did she?’

Ben and I couldn’t find a car parking space in the same postcode as the Hospital so we took advantage of our 4WD and parked on the grass.  And then walked long, featureless, corridors to find the transit lounge.  Not much of a lounge and not much transiting taking place as its inhabitants looked to have been sitting there long enough to have melded with the furniture.  Apparently waiting for a doc to sign a piece of paper can be an all day affair.  When the very young trainee doc came to sign Ged out with her red stethoscope and matching high heels (I last saw style like that in a B&D Brothel where a friend used to work!) I stated my case for a halter monitor.  She looked shocked to be challenged in her role as benevolent authority and disappeared to find the specialist.  Another well heeled blonde appeared in a pencil skirt and sashayed in front of us to find a meeting room.  Any red blooded man would get better just looking at her!  She was about half my age . . .

I stated my case and she proceeded to bamboozle me with science and medicine which somehow soothed and calmed me even though I cannot recollect a word she said and I didn’t understand most of it.  I think they must learn some sort of hypnotherapy mind control at med school . . . ‘I’m a doctor, TRUST me . . . ‘

At least Macca had some fun reading and talking to Ben, even though she didn’t weigh in to my medical stoush, and we got to take our stitched up, banged up, much loved husband and father home.

We all had our safe and ordered world rocked.  Ben then came down with a five day fever and has been a pale and listless caricature of his former self and we are all trying to get a handle on how, why and will this ever happen again.

Ged and I went to the specialist yesterday who at least gave him permission to drive, hooked him up to the ECG again and ultra sounded his heart.  It all looks normal and sounds steady so now they have to work out if he is stress sensitive, so they treadmill him next week and then book him in for a night in the sleep clinic to monitor whether he has sleep apnoea.  He has to lose weight (hurrah, someone else singing from my song sheet!) but then so do I – at least we can help each other there . . .

And we need to make more time for each other, for holidays, for fun as well as the farm, for play as well as work.  I need to learn to relax and enjoy.  Both Ben and Ged can teach me that.  I have to let them.  And we have to savour every moment, treasure each other, stop taking life and each other for granted.  We none of us know how long we’ve got.

After Birth

by . Posted on
24 Nov

Macca came to see us to check me over for the last time and discharge me from her care and to cast an expert eye over our precious boy and we got some funny pictures of our little gremlin (no, those aren’t really his ears!)

We have been so incredibly blessed in our midwife.  Macca has become a part of the family and we will miss her weekly visits.  We have locked the main entrance gate because of some strange trespassing incidents and also to contain the spread of giant parramatta grass which is a horrible noxious weed, so I told her to park her little car at the side gate and hoot and I would drive through the river and retrieve her.  I was off on the ridge taking down the wedding flags at the neighbour’s request and must have just missed her.  When I drove through the gate her little sewing machine on wheels was parked there, but no Macca.  Got to the house and there she was, having waded through the river with her big bag of books and medical frip frappery.  I swear if we had been in flood when I went into labour she would have gladly swung across the river tarzan style on the flying fox – she takes everything in her stride!  She is the ultimate Miss No Drama, which is perfect for me!  But now she isn’t coming every week, will I still clean the house??
And who will I talk to about the very real challenges of Motherhood?
I can now see that I was in shock for the first few weeks.  I had no idea birth would hurt so much, that the after-effects were so long lasting and uncomfortable and that breastfeeding would hurt as much as it did.  Good thing Mothers never share this information or the human race would soon dwindle into extinction!  Everyone told me to treasure every moment because babies grow and change so fast but you are so busy coping that you don’t.  It all passes in a blur.  I look at the photos now and can’t believe or remember that he was ever like that – where did he go?  So soon?  I only had a baby for a brief nanosecond and then he grew up!
Everyone said the first six weeks would be the hardest and certainly things are a bit easier now.  I think postnatal depression is a reality for most Mothers in some way, shape or form, and I am so lucky that I can hand Benjamin to Ged and got to my sacred space, the shed, for a good howl and that I can talk to both Ged and Macca about how I feel.  It’s a huge change, being a Mummy, being needed all the time, not having any space or time, and not even having a body to call your own.  Benjamin loves his boobies, Ged looks on jealously and I have to remind them both that actually they are MINE, not theirs!
Being able to walk properly is a huge bonus too!  (oh my LORD!)


Dairy Cow

by . Posted on
20 Oct

It was pointed out to me during the week that I am less of a Mad Cow and more of a Dairy Cow now that Benjamin has laid claim to my boobies!

Last week I really did feel like a Dairy Cow – Benjamin was on the boob from 7am til 10, 11 or even 12 pm with only brief breaks for power naps while I rushed around trying to wash nappies, wash up, and wring my hands and in the evening go out into my shed for a good howl and a bit of ‘me’ time while Ged soothed the little man.  As you can imagine, I don’t believe in dummies, but after one particularly harrowing and long day I said ‘right, that’s it, tomorrow we are getting a dummy’.  ‘Do you want a dummy’ asked Ged shyly (or was that slyly?).  ‘I’ve got one in the car!’  It turns out that he, knowing more about parenting and babies than I, has seen all his friends resort to a dummy at some stage and taken it upon himself to buy a couple ‘just in case . . . ‘  Well, bless that man, that dummy is my new best friend!!
I can walk away with raw, depleted breasts and Ged can get Benjamin to sleep with rocking and cuddling and that blessed dummy in his mouth!
By Monday I was a basket case and luckily Macca came visiting.  She reprogrammed that little boy back from the devil incarnate he had become, into the sweet little angel we originally ordered and were delivered!  Thank God!  She has put us both on a three hour feed and sleep schedule which is going great and allows me some sleep, a life and hopefully the chance to get some work done at last!
He’s a lot happier with lots more sleep, and we have some fun play times, so it seems I was torturing him by keep offering him the boob when he got sucky, as much as I was torturing myself (I should start saving for his therapy now, you think?) and I’m a lot happier with some semblance of a life back . . . being chained to a chair in the lounge, with a boy on a boob 24/7, I had taken to watching ‘Little House on the Prairie’ episodes to stave off boredom and the men in the white coats . . .even a dairy cow only gets milked two or three times a day!!
So thanks to everyone who offered support, sustenance and a shoulder to cry on during my week from hell, and here are some happy pictures of us now that the good ship Motherhood is back on a more even keel!

The children are all in clover!

by . Posted on
13 Oct

Tinkerbell has been locked up behind the house for a couple of weeks now as she has laminitis.  She was therefore present for the birth of the baby who will love, master and live with her into her dotage.  She just lay by the back door all through labour and didn’t call out for Baby or make a fuss about her confinement like she normally does as soon as the sun is up.  Instead she was quiet, present and contemplative until Benjamin was safely birthed into her world.

Then Baby came down with it!  First time ever and the result of a crazy clover season.  We all have hundreds of acres of clover at the moment – too much, too rich, for all the stock.  It would seem that after all that rain and our two floods, after ten years of drought, all the dormant seeds in the ground are thriving.  So now we have Two ponies locked up in a very small section of the house paddock, and then, just when Tinkerbell was getting better, she became a three legged horse, literally hopping, and in despair I called the vet out.  She had been up to her normal Houdini escapologist tricks and somehow had severely injured her hip.  That’ll teach her, you would think, not Tinkerbell . . . she may only be hopping but she can still get out!  Electric fence put paid to her shenanigans but what with a new baby, two sick ponies and a dog who is definitely not getting enough attention I was pretty close to reaching the end of my tether . . . !
Macca came and weighed Ben and he has put on HALF A KILO – pretty impressive . . . there’s goodness in them there boobies after all!  There’s no doubt that Master Love is a tit man – those big blue eyes light up every time the milk bar opens and he starts licking his lips . . . I am trying to teach him that it is good etiquette to kiss the girls first, not go straight for the boob!!
And I have discovered that he is a complete groover – he has moves, he has rhythm, he LOVES to dance with his Mummy – will get Ged to take pictures.
All my plans of having three months off work went pretty much straight out of the window and we were working three days after the birth (pretty impressive!) and am now just squeezing it in between feeds – so on a good day I might get two or three solid hours of work under my belt – keeps me on my toes!
Ged went back to work this week, although he had done about 4 days work during his two weeks paternity leave so it didn’t feel like a holiday and nothing got done on the farm, but he and Benjamin just adore each other and he is in charge of winding and soothing the little man, and I take care of the input and while he is at home, the output is all his!!
Gotta go, I hear His Master’s Voice . . .

Midwife knows best

by . Posted on
06 Oct

Tired, sore, shocked and happy!
Now I know why no-one can explain childbirth to you – it is inexplicable.  There are no words to convey the act of labour, and I have a whole new respect for anyone who has ever endured it.  And if you’ve done it more than once, I take my hat off to you!  How could God be a man when only woman can conceive, nurture, grow and birth a baby?  Man has many roles – protector, provider, rock and comforter, but he is no creator of life, and let’s face it no man could possibly live through labour!!
Macca stayed on the farm with us for four days fulfilling a vital role of counselor, friend, Mother, nurturer, rest police and breastfeeding expert.  I am so grateful for that.  I didn’t realize until after she was gone how much you need a wise friend who knows the ropes and will help you adjust and learn your new role – without judgement, with compassion and with infinite patience.  Macca was that person and more and I feel so blessed that we have had her to share and learn from as we move through this major transition in life.   Three days after the birth we (Ged, Macca and I) planted the placenta under an ‘Emperor’ Mandarin tree at the heart of our new, circular, vegetable patch.  How fitting that Benjamin’s life support system should begin to feed Avalon’s.  May he always be grounded, loved, nurtured and held here in his place in the world, his home, his land, his link to Mother Nature and the Goddesses who bore and birthed him.  We three witches planting a placenta under a star-filled night in the centre of a circle – very pagan, very elemental, very right.  Of course when Macca left, the Baby Blues arrived and I had a few howling sessions – mostly I was so proud of myself for having successfully traversed this major milestone in my life – against all the opposition and naysayers, the dream stealers and the prophets of doom.  Also I was so grateful to Macca for having been such a wonderful facilitator, helping us to make our dreams come true.  She was invisible and yet ever present, allowing, facilitating, encouraging and witnessing, the lighthouse we steered by, our guide and comforter as we wrestled with something beyond our control.
And now we are getting to know the newest member of the Love family . . . much is familiar from his habits and patterns in utero, but so much is brand new territory.  Luckily Ged knows more about babies than I do from his years looking after his cousins and Steve and Cherie’s boys.  But we have Macca at the end of a phone, and visiting once a week for the next six weeks, and we have intuition, a deep well of love for this miracle baby of ours, and a beautiful home to share with him . . .
Needless to say, Phoenix has his nose well and truly out of joint and he is not ‘the most beautiful boy in the world’ any more which is pretty harsh.  But I hope he will love Ben as much as we do with time . . .

And unto us a son is born

by . Posted on
29 Sep

‘And unto us a son is born.  Unto us a child is given’

I can’t claim an immaculate conception – we all know I’m no virgin!  But the whole process has been pretty miraculous.  And after a week of waiting, waiting, waiting (and not being very patient) for this baby to finally wend his way out of my womb and into our world, we finally went into labour at about 10pm on Sunday night, starting off fairly easy and relaxed so I called the midwife and agreed to talk again in an hour.  While I went to bed and rested between contractions (or waves as we prefer to call them!).  At 11.30 we agreed that she would slowly pack the car and make her way over and got here about 2am.  I was still saying we should all go to bed and try and get some more rest but she sent Ged and I on a walk under the stars on the river flat and after that things started speeding up.  I spent hours in the birthing pool and we had a candlelit night enjoying ‘Pachelbel in the Garden’ on CD (thanks, Mummy!) but when day broke it was time to get out of the water and move into the next stage.  Another walk down the paddock and the pushing began in earnest and then 3 hours later we had a baby in the bathroom.  Ged was essential to every stage of the process and I hung off him with every wave and our midwife, Macca, was just amazing – no internals, no judgement, no directions – she just allowed the birth to progress as it would, giving us no timeframes or expectations just peace and serenity, encouragement and useful suggestions.  Just the three of us, birthing our baby, at home, at Avalon, where we wanted to be and are safe and loved and held in the embrace of the land.
It was a beautiful day – brilliant sunshine, and Benjamin was born at 12.18.  Just over 7lbs and 50cm long (19.68 inches).  He is breastfeeding well, sleeping beautifully, and is pretty peaceful to be around.  We are all a bit tired, and taking it very easy for the week.  Macca is staying to make sure we are all under control and know what we are doing and generally helping out.  So here he is . . .