You mean all I had to do was ask?

We've been going through a rough patch with Ella's sleeping again.  She's been great with her daytime sleeps but come night time we put her down at 7pm and she drifts off with no problems, but wakes at 9pm screaming for her 'dream feed', then again at 11pm, 4am and is awake again at 5.30am.   It wasn't the kind of waking where you can just go in and shoosh her either, in a matter of seconds she would be inconsolable, screaming as if someone was trying to murder her and it would take anywhere up to an hour or so before she properly settled down again.  Needless to say, this sleep pattern (or lack thereof) was probably a major contributing factor to my mood lately...

I started reading a book a couple of weeks ago called 'French Children Don't Throw Food'.  A friend had recommended it to me as it outlined some of the things that French people do differently when raising little ones and I am always interested in reading things like that.  Unfortunately I haven't had the time to read very much, only the first few chapters in fact, but what I read was that the French (generally speaking) believe that children are born with an understanding of language.  Even though they cannot communicate themselves, they believe that children understand language and should be spoken to like adults, not babies.

After much frustration from lack of sleep, the other night while I was snuggling with Ella and giving her her night time bottle before bed, I decided to have a little chat with her.   I spoke to her very calmly and basically just said that it was very important for her to get a good nights sleep so that she would have lots of energy to play the following day, and that if she woke up and was frightened during the night that mama and dada were either just down stairs or sleeping next door so there was nothing to be scared of.  I said that if she cried during the night I would come in and make sure everything was ok, but then after a while I was going to walk out of the bedroom and not come back in if I was certain that there was nothing wrong with her.  I ended the conversation by saying that I would come in and get her at 6am the next morning.

Tim sat next to me thinking that I was a bit of a fruit loop I'm sure.  We had been discussing weaning her off her dream feed at the same time too so we decided that that night we wouldn't give her a bottle at around 9pm if she woke.  This was going to be interesting.  I really wasn't looking forward to it.

After putting her to bed and again reassuring her that there was nothing to be scared about if she woke up during the night and that we would see her in the morning, she went straight to sleep.  Brilliant!  I went to bed early that night thinking that I was going to be in for an inevitable rough night again.  Tim also came to bed early since he didn't have to stay up for the dream feed.

I drifted off to sleep easily that night.  I woke to Ella crying just a tiny bit and looked at the clock and it was 11pm.  She hadn't woken at her usual 9pm screaming for a bottle.  I let her cry for a minute or two and then she went back to sleep.  Excellent!

I went back to sleep again and the next time I woke up I could hear her squeaking cot as she stirred at 5am!  I was sure that she would start to cry but again she drifted back off to sleep.  I didn't sleep after that because I was so excited that she had slept for so long without me needing to get up.  I was also surprised that she didn't kick up a fuss for not having her night time feed.  I had been dreading the weaning process of that feed thinking it would be really difficult, but it was simple!

I kid you not that at 6am on the dot she started talking to herself in the cot.  I raced in and told her how proud I was that she had slept for so long.  I excitedly brought her into our bed, still praising her and beaming to Tim about what she'd done.  His comment was "why didn't you tell her we'd get her at 7am".  I couldn't help but laugh.

That was the first night that she had slept through without me needing to get up ONCE.  The first time!  I was beyond excited.

Last night we had another little chat before bedtime.  I thought the night before was too good to be true and was really interested to see how things would go again this time.

Same thing happened.  She didn't wake for her dream feed and I literally didn't hear a single peep out of her all night until just before 6am.  I praised her again for her great effort and she seemed so proud of herself.

It's probably just a major fluke that this has happened two nights in a row, but maybe there is some truth to the fact that babies may understand more than we realise.  After all these months of trying different techniques and going through rough nights (not all the time) was it possible that all I had to do was ask her to sleep through the night?  Does she really understand me?  If so, I really need to start watching what I say around her!

Solo Sunday

I must sound like a broken record because I've said it so many times lately, but for a long while now I just haven't been feeling myself.  I can't quite put a finger on exactly what's wrong.  Probably a multitude of things that have just built up over the past few months.  I am feeling trapped into mundane routine, I've lost motivation, I'm quick to snap at the slightest thing and essentially just feel off balance, like I'm not in synch with the person that I actually am.

I really felt like I needed some time alone to think about where I am, where I want to be and how I get there.  A little soul searching I suppose.

My morning started out as usual with a snuggle in bed with Ella which I love.  Tim had a big night out with mates so he was sleeping in the spare room to save waking me because I've had such broken sleep this week.  The moment he surfaced I couldn't wait to get out of that house.   I was dressed and out of there in minutes.  Escaping the mess of my house, the chaos, the crying, everything.  All I wanted was some time to myself, not having to worry about anybody else, or sticking to a schedule.  Being able to sit and have a meal without feeling rushed.  Sipping a coffee without somebody pulling at my pyjama pants and actually being able to finish it instead of being interrupted to do something else for someone else in the house.  Putting myself first for once.

It was a beautiful clear morning, still a little crisp but you could tell that the day was going to be perfect.  I drove to the beach with my window down the whole way and my iPod blasting.  That in itself made me feel better.  I felt free.

When I got there I walked along to Shelly beach, watching people having brunch, dodging children on scooters, seeing old ladies bobbing up and down in the beautiful clear blue water, breathing in the fresh air - smelling salt, coconut oil, food - it all instantly made me feel better.  I turned around and walked all the way up to North Steyne and back.  Angus and Julia Stone sang to me about paper aeroplanes as I watched the glassy water and for the first time in ages my mind felt clear.

I stopped and sat on the beach for a while and just looked out to the ocean.  It was beautiful.  A fog slowly lifted from my head.

I found a cafe and ate a leisurely breakfast and savoured my coffee.  I meandered through the markets and walked into shops that I always admire from the outside but usually just walk past.  I didn't look at my watch once.

I headed up to The Heads to take in the view.  There were lots of people there but it was strangely quiet.   I sat in the car for a long time just admiring the view.  It was glorious.  A car pulled up next to me and I watched as an elderly man got out of the car with a younger man.  I assumed they were father and son.  The elderly man, who looked to be well into his 80's, shuffled so slowly to a chair on the grass assisted by the younger man and together they sat and admired the view also.  As I watched them I saw the old man put his hand tenderly on the arm of the younger man, and he then put his hand over his.  I have no idea what their story was but that private moment they shared together was even more beautiful than the view of the ocean.  It gave me a lump in my throat.

At that point I decided to head home, doing a few quick errands on the way but without rushing.

When I got home and walked through the door the chaos was still there, a crying baby and mess everywhere, but somehow it didn't seem so overwhelming now.  Those few hours just to myself were the best thing for me.  I felt reconnected.  I know that nobody is going to pull me out of my funk except me.  I need a change in mindset or I'm just going to stay in this rut.  While sitting on the sand I made a commitment to myself to consciously try to change the things that I can, and not worry about the things that I can't.

I went for another walk this afternoon with Ella and Tim and I could smell the sweet scent of blossom on the breeze.  Change is in the air and for the first time in a while I am excited about it.

In the blink of an eye

The title of yesterday's post was Happy Days.  It was a happy day.  It's funny how things can change in the blink of an eye.

Today my Godmother was diagnosed with breast cancer.  Mum looked after Ella today and as soon as I came home from work and walked in the door to see her face I could tell something was wrong.  She gave me the news and burst into tears and I hugged her as hard as I did when she told me that she had cancer.  This time I kept myself together though.  It's strange to think how roles reverse as you get older.  Mum was always the one that we would go to for support and to hear the words "It's all going to be ok".  Now I was the one holding her saying those words.

I was so sad to hear the diagnosis, but know that with her positive spirit she will be able to beat this, just like my mum did.

I am so sick of the 'C' word though.  I've heard it far too many times recently.

Happy days

Happy baby...

Happy mama...

Ella's Birthday

 

Last friday was Ella's first birthday.  Even though I know she won't remember a thing about it I wanted to make it special for her.  Plus, it was a celebration for Tim and I as well.  This was probably the most challenging year that we've had together.  Not in a bad way, but there are so many changes you experience as a couple when a new little person enters your family and there is obviously a new dynamic to the relationship which takes some time getting used to.  So really, friday was a really special day to be celebrated by us all.

Tim took the day off work which was nice.  All week the weather had been perfect, almost like Spring which really seems to have rejuvenated my spirits.  I've been a bit out of sorts lately - not much motivation.  We woke up on the morning of her birthday and it was cloudy.  Oh well, you can't help these things.

I couldn't wait to get up and see Ella.  I walked into her bedroom when she woke up and sang happy birthday to her while she looked at me with a strange expression on her face.  We all played in bed together and Tim and I marvelled at how much she had changed over the last year.  We are absolutely blown away by how quickly she is learning new things and the changes she is going through from a baby to a toddler.

When we brought her downstairs, her presents were waiting for her.  She wasn't all that excited about them I have to say.  We tried not to go overboard with the presents, just a few things we thought she would really like.  We bought her a Wheely Bug...which she loved but she's too tall for it so I have to try and sell it and get the next size up!  We also bought her some books since she loves reading so much, a beautiful Jack In A Box which never fails to make her laugh every time the little clown pops up, a cute Hoot bean bag and a cockatoo hand puppet because she is obsessed with birds, particularly cocky's as our neighbours feed them and she loves to watch them in the morning.  Of course, the puppet was the cheapest thing we bought (a bargain at $5!!) and it's her new favourite thing.  She clutched it for the entire day and still plucks it out from her pile of toys to play with each day.

Daddy made pancakes for breakfast and as we ate them the sun came out and it turned into another perfect day.  We decided to head down to a cafe and play area at Pittwater and spend the day next to the water.  We had lunch in the sun, played in the play ground and let Ella roam freely in the beautiful grassy park next to the water.  She is a little adventurer and loves the outdoors.  Once we put her down she was off without even a glance back at us (this was unheard of only a few weeks ago - she basically wouldn't leave our sides) and explored for a good hour or so before she got tired.  Needless to say she fell asleep as soon as we got in the car to go home.

We celebrated in the evening with a little cake and lots of cuddles.  She's never really been a snuggly baby, she always just wanted to do her own thing and not be held.  Although she still has a very strong will and wants to do her own thing, she's really started to become affectionate.  After dinner she hopped into my lap and just lay on my chest as content as anything.  That moment was pure bliss for me.  The end to such a simple day with my little family.

Before her birthday, I had a really hard time coming to terms with the fact that she was turning one.  I know it sounds silly but I cried several times just at the thought (Tim thinks I'm crazy!).  I looked at photos of her on the day that she was born and I can't put into words the feelings that overcome me as I think of how quickly she is growing up.  Although I'm sad that the real baby phase is over, I have to say that at this age I am probably the most comfortable I have ever been as a mother and I can't wait to see what the year ahead brings, not only for Ella, but for Tim and I as we grow as well.

One year ago...

The 2nd of August 2011.  I was due to see my obstetrician to talk about inducing my stubborn little bubba who was 12 days overdue.  I had slight cramps during the night but nothing notable so during our visit we expected him to tell me to pack my bags and be ready to be induced the very next morning.

After a quick examination and some encouraging words we left the doctor's office to spend a quiet afternoon together before the big day.  We went up to the local shopping centre to grab some lunch and as we walked from the car to the restaurant I started to feel sharp contractions in my belly.  I remember telling Tim what was happening and we both couldn't wipe the smiles off our faces.  This was really happening.

As we ate our lunch I continued to feel contractions.  I laughed and cried nervously, not knowing what to expect. We rushed home and I jumped into a hot bath to try and relax.  Tim took Archie over to his mum and dad's place to look after him and while he was away I timed my contractions.  They were coming closer and closer together.  I couldn't believe this was all happening so fast.  It was the moment that I had waited so long for, yet I was so very anxious.

The contractions were coming regularly and I happily reported to Tim when he got back home that they were only five minutes apart.  We decided to get ready to go to the hospital and before I knew it we were walking in through the doors of the place where I was going to give birth.  I was about to become a mother!

In hindsight we went to the hospital way too early.  Although the contractions were close together for quite a period of time, the minute we walked through those doors, all the activity slowed down and almost came to a halt.  We walked the hospital grounds hand in hand, stopping briefly at times so I could clutch Tim as a wave of pain came over me.

Night fell and I hadn't progressed at all.  After many long hours at the hospital I had not dilated any further. Another two hours passed and there was no change.  After speaking with my obstetrician, he decided to break my waters.  I thought that the contractions I had been feeling were painful enough but it was nothing compared to what was to come!  I was in true labour now!

I didn't have a birth plan as such.  I didn't want to go in with a full idea of how my birth was going to be, knowing that things can happen which are out of our control in these situations so I didn't want to be disappointed if things didn't go the way that I planned.  I went in with an open mind and was open to the advice of my obstetrician who I trusted completely.  I did want to try to go drug free if I possibly could, but hot baths, followed by gas did nothing to alleviate the pain that I felt.  A kind of pain that I had never experienced before.  I was quickly becoming exhausted.  Instead of quieting my mind and trying to relax, I fought each contraction  because I was so nervous about what was happening and I'm sure this didn't help.

At almost midnight I couldn't take the pain any longer and decided to opt for an epidural so that I could try and get some rest.  The anaesthetist came and I could have kissed him.  The pain was gone and I was able to rest as much as I could, which really wasn't much.  I clutched my stomach the whole night so I could feel the tightening of my belly with each contraction since I couldn't actually feel any sensation.

6am came and I was finally around 10cm dilated.  The obstetrician was on his way.  Finally my baby was coming, some 15  hours after I arrived at the hospital.  Tim held my hand while I pushed as hard as I could with each contraction.  Baby's heart beat started to become erratic so the obstetrician decided to use the vacuum to assist the process.

It was all a blur at this point but before I knew it a warm pink body was placed upon my chest.  A tiny baby (who was actually not so tiny) clung to my finger and screeched.  I was speechless.  I always thought that I would cry when I had a baby since I am such an emotional person, but I was in complete awe of the situation. I shushed gently and stroked the smooth skin.  I didn't even know if we had a boy or a girl.  I didn't care.  My baby was here.  Healthy and alert.  All the pain that I felt initially was forgotten in a heart beat.

Eventually I asked Tim what we had and he told me it was a little girl.  The most beautiful little thing I had ever seen.  We lay together for some time, Tim and I looking at each other in amazement at what we had created.  Tim cut the umbilical cord and we were left alone - our new little family of three.

We hadn't really decided on a name for a little girl, but after some time we chose Ella.  It was at this point that Tim cried his first tears.  "Our baby is Ella" he said and then the tears welled in my eyes too.

Ella, your daddy and I still look at each other and marvel at the fact that you are a product of our love.  We could never have imagined how much you mean to us.

Great Expectations...

For the past week all I have been doing with my spare time is getting things ready for Ella's 1st birthday party.  Anyone would have thought it was my birthday considering how excited I was.  We just had a small party with our immediate family.  I was really looking forward to it because it would have been the first time that both of our families had all been together since our wedding.  And now there were cousins too and I couldn't wait to watch them play together.

I had a vivid image in my mind of how the day would be and played it over and over in my mind before I went to sleep each night.  And that was my downfall.  I over thought it all - I have a tendency to do that.  When I'm really looking forward to something I plan every little detail in my head and picture it all and play it out in my head.  The only problem is that other people are usually involved in these activities that I am excited about and I forget that they don't see these visions in my mind and so inevitably and unintentionally they throw a spanner in the works and into my perfect plans and everything is ruined.

Poor Tim usually cops the brunt of my irritation and disappointment in these situations.  For example if I'm really looking forward to the weekend after a long week I will plan out all the things that we'll do.  On friday night we'll get takeaway and watch a movie on the couch while we cuddle.  On saturday morning we'll go out and get breakfast at a cafe.  Ella will be on her best behaviour and people will come up to us and tell us how beautiful she is.  I'll have eggs benedict with smoked salmon.  Tim will have pancakes with a side of bacon and we'll have caramel milkshakes together.  And so it goes, our whole weekend is mapped out in my mind.

But the thing is, Tim doesn't want to snuggle on the couch for the entire movie on friday night because he doesn't have room to stretch out and his arm gets stiff when my head is on his shoulder for too long.  He doesn't even want to go out for breakfast in the morning, he wants to sleep in (it is his weekend after all too) and even if we did go out, Ella's not a robot that can be programmed to not be in a foul mood because she doesn't want to sit in the high chair any longer while we eat breakfast and inevitably will end up throwing some sort of screaming fit while we quickly scoff our breakfast and caramel milkshakes and run out the door with our heads hanging in embarrassment because she's making such a fuss!  And so then I sulk like a three year old because things hadn't gone the way I envisaged them and I'm in a bad mood for the rest of the day, or perhaps the rest of the weekend.  Stupid I know... but that's how my head works sometimes.

Anyway, back to the party.  It was themed yellow.  I bought different types of yellow material to make bunting and table runners, matching plates, heck, Ella even had a yellow and white outfit picked out for her.  It was beautiful and perfect!

I had planned to make her a bird cage cake for her party because she is obsessed with birds but when I started to put it together I wasn't happy.  Despite my mum telling me that it looked great, I just didn't like the way it looked.  That wasn't a great problem as I made another cake and was really pleased with how it turned out even though it was completely different to what I had in mind.  

But, while I was making the cake I received a phone call from Tim's sister.  "We can't make it any more" she said and I couldn't hide the disappointment in my voice.  Jaiden had been vomiting the night before and so they didn't want to pass any bugs on to anybody else.  Completely understandable but I could't help but feel sad that they wouldn't be there for Ella's first birthday party.  The first time that we would all be together as a family and the first time that all of her cousins would be able to play with one another.  And their family would no longer be in all the perfect photo's that we would take on the day that I had seen in my mind and that I would show Ella in years to come.

Mum spent the day with me on friday and helped make the bunting while I baked and we had lots of fun together.  It was all coming together nicely.

Party day arrived.  The sun was shining and it was as if it was a beautiful spring morning. I went out early to set everything up at Tim's mum and dad's place while Tim stayed home and looked after Ella until party time.  I picked up bunches of yellow and white balloons and happy yellow daffodils and jonquils for the tables.  It all looked perfect.

It was nearly party time so I had to duck home to get Ella and Tim.  I walked in the door and Ella was screaming her head off and Tim wasn't handling it too well.  We got her dressed eventually and I wanted to run out the door so we wouldn't be late, but Tim hadn't even packed her bag - too busy playing Medal of Honour (or something like that) while Ella had her morning sleep.  So I got the shits and quickly put everything together and soon I was slamming the door shut and glaring at Tim while I backed out of the driveway.

Ella was so excited when she arrived.  Huge smile on her face and for the rest of the day she just walked around the garden exploring.  I swear she would have walked about a kilometre in total that day!

It was all going along really nicely.  All my family had arrived, Tim's mum and dad and Tania (Tim's other sister) was there and everybody was happy.  Tim's brother had rsvp'd to say that he'd come but hadn't arrived so Tim tried to call him to find out where he was so we'd know when to start cooking the bbq.  His call was diverted to message bank.  A few minutes later Tim's mum received a text message saying that he was no longer coming.

Another big disappointment.  Tim's mum was really upset because now half of their family was missing and she felt awful that I had gone to so much trouble and catered for so when I didn't actually need to.   I am sure she had pictures in her mind as well of all her family being together on this special occasion.

I was really annoyed with Jon.  He must have had a big night out the night before or something.  We still don't know because he hasn't bothered to contact either Tim or myself to apologise for not coming. 

My family are close.  Not close that we see each other all the time or talk on the phone a lot, but we always get together for special occasions like this, no questions asked, and always have a great time together.  There is no way that my brother would not show up for something like this and vice versa, I would never not show up to his boys birthday party or other occasion.  Even if I had a raging hangover, I would be there playing with his kids (in-between hanging my head in the toilet bowl) because that's what's important to us.

I started to get upset again at this point and I could see that Tim was not happy.  This was the not the plan.  Not the way it was supposed to be.   But then I looked around and realised that I shouldn't be upset about anything.  Half of Tim's family were there (better than none!), my family were all there having fun and Ella had a huge smile on her face.

We ate and drank together in the sunshine, the boys played with giant bubble makers while Ella chased them and everyone was having a good time.  Ella ate cake for the first time and loved it and we all sat on the grass while she opened her presents.  At the end of the day we let her helium balloons go up in the air and all watched and laughed as we saw them become tiny specks in the sky and wondered where they would end up.  

It didn't matter that Ella trod on dog poo in bare feet, that the hat that I desperately wanted her to wear because she looked so cute (and that I spent a long time making) wouldn't stay on her head, that I forgot to put her birthday candle on the cake and that she got so cranky when we sang happy birthday that she cried.  And whilst it was sad that Tim's brother and sisters and family weren't there, it's not the end of the world.  While these are not the memories that I had imagined in my mind, they are good memories none the less.  And at the end of the day Ella had a great time and that's really all that matters.