The week that was.

This post doesn't really have a specific theme to it. It's just an update on how we're going down here, because I vowed I'd post at least once a week, and so far I've stuck with that!

Viral gastroenteritis went thorugh the house this week. First Lily, who binge ate last night to make up for her almost week long food strike. She ate: Broccoli, pumpkin, corn, half a small sausage, a few bites of Daddy's lamb korma and rice, naan and yoghurt. Her tummy was HUGE after it, but I didn't mind as between Friday night, when she got sick, and Wednesday she ate maybe a cup of food total and only ate very small meals until last night, when she ate everything she could see.

Next was Archer. This was quite the experience for Bob and I as, while Lily had had colic and had gotten a few colds and things, she had never been sick like this. After a feed, everything would literally flood out of him, in great waves of slightly sour milk. He would soak himself, me, the nursing pillow (rest in peace) and the lounge. He didn't seem especially phased by it, but did become dehydrated. We just kept his fluids up and he's fine now. There was the slight problem that I wanted him to be in his bed, on his Angelcare, in case he stopped breathing after a vomit and he wanted to be in our bed because he was miserable. He won.

And then Bob got sick. Now I don't like to invoke the law of the man cold, especially as he was really very unwell, but let's just say the kids handled it quite a bit better than he did.

And me? Well, I never got sick. This was devastating as I REALLY felt like a bout of gastro would really help me shift a bit of baby weight. Nevermind.

Bob had Friday off this week as we had vaguely planned to do something for our anniversary and chose this weekend so we'd have four days with the Thursday Australia Day holiday. We decided, after signifcant badgering on my part, to go to Taronga Zoo.

It took us hours to prepare. I made huge lunches, packed clothing for 8 different weather occasions, most of them improbable and enough nappies to last until the apocalypse.

The morning started out diasterously. Archer was in NO MOOD and Lily pitched a fit when we left the house because she didn't have her shoes on as we find this is a barrier to her napping in the car and as she had gotten up a whole hour earlier than usual, we wanted her to nap.

When we arrived, I was in a mood so thunderous, I sincerely wanted to stomp my foot and demand to be returned home like a toddler. Archer had screamed for the better part of the 1.5 hour journey and Lily hadn't napped. That, coupled with the fact we'd wisely decided to put a Dora DVD on in the car, I was going to EAT the next person that annoyed me. Usually this is Bob, but this happened to be an unwary toddler and it's neglectful mother.

This kid ran full pelt straight in front of our easily 40kg pram (12kg of pram, plus 12 of toddler, plus 6.5kg of infant, plus easily 10kg of extra stuff), into another child, who was standing in group smack in the middle of the path and HEADBUTTED him. How Bob didn't clean him up, I'll never know. And I said "Watch your kids!", which illicited a round of protests from these idiots and their snowflakes. But I wasn't about to ruin my day even further by engaging.

My day conituned to stay unimproved by the fact that Bob INSISTED we see the Australian animals first. It took easily 15 minutes to find them, including a detour via the giraffes ("Giraffe!" exclaimed Lily, and promptly lost interest). Lily, bored, began to work her way towards an epic tantrum, and so did I, frustrated by how badly our trip was going. It's probably worth noting, Archer had not stopped fussing this entire time.

And then we found the Australian animals and things took a turn for the better. Lily saw the spinifex hopping mice and I don't think she's ever been so excited. "Mouse! Mouse!" And despite seeing animals that I felt were signifcantly more interesting, she continued to go on and on about the mice for the better part of an hour. Bob summed it up by saying, "I'm so glad we came all the way to Taronga Zoo for her to get the most excited about about something she can see at a pet shop anytime."

She did show a spurt of interest in the Tasmanian Devil joeys (dogs), but the mice were still, apparently, more exciting.

Her excitement about the mice waned when she saw the pig in the children's zoo. The "mig" was the stinkiest creature I've ever come across, and apparently took the same shine to Lily as she took to him because he came over and snuffled the fence where she was standing, biting the lock. I assume he though she looked like a delicious snack. Not appropriately worried about losing a finger, I decided it was time to move Lily on.

She was flat out terrified of the gorillas, which made me sad, because they are my second favourites (otters being my favourite) and was in awe of the lions. They were sitting very close to the glass and Lily's jaw actually dropped cartoon style when she saw them. "Whoa," was all she had to say.

And here, I detour to say: How disgusting are people? The lioness, frustrated by the idiots with their flashing cameras (umm, who uses a flash to take photos of things behind glass?) growled. And, rather than seeing this as a sign to leave the poor woman alone, people began banging on the glass to get her to do it again. She headbutted the glass in a clear "Fuck off" gesture. Instead of leaving her well enough alone, people contiuned to bang the glass. I turned and walked away. I seriously hate people like this. And, I might say that it's ALWAYS forgeiners. And no, I'm not singling out a race under a veil here. Americans, Europeans of all sorts, Asians. They always manage to be the people doing the dumbest shit. The ones at the lion enclosure were NESB Europeans.

As a second detour, at the emu enclosure, an emu was eating something off the wall (nothing a person had left, some organic looking stuff) and a tourist (Asian, FTR) decided to help by pushing it closer. I said, "They bite." And he either didn't understand or didn't care, because he continued to do it. Bob wouldn't let me stay to see him get bit, although it would have damn near made my day.

She liked the elephants, cheerily trumpting at them but she also pretty excited by the cable cars. We said she could on at the very end of our day.

Anyway, we decided now was the time to stop for a break. Archer had been fussy all day, and I wanted to try and nurse him to sleep (third detour, everytime I turned a corner, there was an uncovered nursing mum. I don't know if it's the proximity of the nursing mum chimpanzees and gorillas, and people are getting their inner ape on, or what, but I have never seen so many uncovered nursing mums in one place. This was good, as Archer was being a fussy nurser and kept pulling off, exposing my goods to the whole world). We had also been told to not bother with the baby tigers until at least 3 as they were napping and having health checks until then, and it was only 1:45. I decided to nurse him at the chimpanzee enclousure because I thought Lily might want to watch them for a while (mun-kee ba - monkey baby). As we got ready to leave, I commented to Bob that, since the hiccup of the morning, she had been an ANGEL, no nap and all. Bob agreed and we planned to let her choose a little something at the gift shop. She asked to get into the pram at this point and, on the way to see the otters, zonked out. Sweet, sweet baby girl.

The otters were making baby otters, so we didn't stay there for long, as its not quite as fun to watch this as watching them play.

And then we went to see the baby tigers. THey were sleeping, and as disappointed as I thought I should be by this, I was totally just tired and ready to go home. We didn't bother to wake Lily for the cable cars and instead walked to the exit.

Overall, the day was successful and we plan to go again for Lily's second birthday. This time we'll take her on the cable cars and, as a birthday present, buy her an animal encounter (feeding the giraffes, probably). But until then, shoot me if I mention such a big day out.

Lily's NICU Journey

One of my friends recently posted that, in her really quite pregnant state, she was having difficulty with her daughter's addiction to the movie Dumbo because of the scene with the song Baby Mine. This caused me to remember in technicolour that when Lily was in the NICU, I listened to Bette Midler's version of this song EVERY SINGLE DAY.

The day before Lily was allowed to room in, I had begun to make a video using pictures from the NICU with this song played over it. I was using it as catharsis because that day a midwife had told us that Lily wouldn't get to come home for at least another week. I was devastated. But, the very next day we were roomed in and then she came home, and I forgot my project, and I also lost the work I had done as that computer has since gone to a better place.

But, 20 months later, I decided it was time. Here it is. The video documenting Lily's NICU journey.

Falling in love with Archer

There are things when it comes to the business of having children that are tragic and sometimes dramatically change our view of ourselves, and our children. These things are so rarely discussed, even amongst women who are supposed to be the closest of friends, or even amongst couples, that a woman experiencing them, or recovering from them, can feel very much like she's floating alone and unsupported, or completely misunderstood by those around her. Miscarriage, still birth, traumatic birth experiences. It's an awful feeling, and it's time I aired some of own secret women's business. I want everyone reading this now to know, that this is totally past tense, but I think it should be shared because I believe with all my self that I cannot possibly be the only person ever who has felt these things.

When Lily was born, I fell instantly and totally in love with her. It's so hard to accurately describe this feeling. Punched by love? Perhaps like there was Lily shaped hole in my heart that I was unaware of and it was filled the moment she was born? I don't really know, you can't explain something like that, it really must be experienced. The love quite literally welled out of me.

I remember reading an article not long after Lily was born about women who don't love their newborns right away. I felt sorry for these women, but couldn't imagine experiencing something that looked like an absurdity next to how I had felt.

And when I became pregnant with Archer, I was anticipating this joy, this overwhelming feeling of love. It was like waiting nine months for your next hit of heroine.

But when he was born, I was suddenly very powerfully aware of the absence of this feeling. I looked at him and..... Nothing. Relief, perhaps. But no sincere feeling of love.

I pushed this thought right down to my toes and set about the business of being a new mum. Painted on the right face, and kissed him and held him and said how precious and gorgeous he was. In reality, besides hoping his looks would improve and feeling more than overwhelmed by his insistence on sleeping all day and being awake all night, I was thinking about how hard Lily had fought for life, how she had been so brave and strong and amazing from her very first moments, and here was Archer, big and fat and enjoying his new out of womb life with every minute with his Mummy. I remember how Angelina Jolie once said of newborn Shiloh that she didn't feel as strongly about her as her adopted children because she hadn't had to fight as hard for life. People were horrified, but this is exactly how I felt about Archer when comparing his birth to Lily's. I guess the ugly truth of it was, he hadn't fought hard enough to win my love.

But I continued to wear the painted face of an adoring new mum. Occasionally, I'd be gripped by a FEAR. What happens if I never loved this little guy? What happens if, like some sort of tragic Law and Order episode I found myself suffering from postnatal depression and doing something awful? Not that I entertained thoughts of hurting him, but I did wonder if I didn't love him, how those trying early months would pan out. During our night feedings, I'd kiss him and whisper that I was sorry, I wanted him and now I couldn't love him.

Then we moved to Gosford and things seemed to be looking up. At the very least I liked the little critter. He was a good sleeper and rarely took my time away from things that needed doing or his sister.

And then the 6 week growth spurt hit. All he ever wanted to do was eat and scream. IF he slept it was on one of us. I became furious and tired and OVER IT. There was something I once read about a second born son whose father had said to him, "Your brother was an accident, but you were a mistake." I felt exactly this about my son. I began to wish we had more seriously entertained the thoughts of being "one and done". I was beginning to resent Archer. He was sucking time off Lily (who I didn't think deserved it after all she had been through during the pregnancy), he wasn't sleeping, he was eating constantly. If there was one 2:00am feed where I'd haul him out of the bassinet and say, "C'mon then, you little parasite," there was ten, Sometimes I'd just sob my way through feeds. I even began to entertain thoughts of switching him to formula, so Bob could take at least a little of the burden.

I would tentatively ask Bob, "Do you love Archer? You know, the same way you love Lily?" Cheerily he would reply that of course he did. I would say, "I don't think I do." And he would say, "It'll get better, when he's more interactive and not cluster feeding."

I had the sinking feeling that it would not.

And then, as all things do, it passed. Just when I thought I had no more rope left, it stopped. My sleeping angel was back and I began to feel better. I was liking the little critter again.

And then at 8 weeks he smiled at me. The most beautiful smile. And there it was. Punched by love.

I didn't know it, but the Archer sized hole in my heart had been growing over the eight weeks, and when he had smiled that beautiful smile, he had snapped into his place, right next to his sister where he belonged, and the love welled out of me, tears of gratitude, relief and pure, unconditional love streamed down my face.

Private Schools are Expensive

Before Lily was even concieved, Bob and I had come to the decision that a P - 12 single sex private school was the right decision in education for our children.

We knew it would mean a lot of sacrifices on our part. Holidays, new cars and the frequent purchases of new, and often expensive, clothes that had been part of our lifestyle would be something we could not have, at least in the early years, while we were still building our careers. Did we mind? Not a bit. In fact, we felt, when we died (hopefully in the triple digits), if there was nothing left to give our kids, then at least we had given them this gift, this start to life. A better thing we couldn't think of.

And when we had a little girl, I was overjoyed to be able to put Lily on the wait list for my old school, Somerville House. It had been quite the dream of mine. I was so excited we quite literally went there on the way home from the hospital. That earned us a blurb in the quarterly magazine.

And when we decided to move to Sydney, the more expensive schools was something we actually considered. I picked a couple of schools at random (Scots College and Presbyterian Ladies' College, in case you're interested) and worked out if the change in our incomes would cover the change in school fees and still have us come out ahead. It did. I was CRUSHED that Lily would not get to go to Somerville, but I was happy we would still be able to offer our children a good education. And I hoped my granddaughter would get to be a second generation student at whatever school we picked for Lily, because I truly want Lily to love her school as much as I loved mine.

And so, after timing a drive and doing research and checking the scale of fees, we have come up with schools for our daughter and son.

Lily will (hopefully) be attending Pymble Ladies' College from Kindergarten and Archer, likewise, will be attending Knox Grammar from Kindergarten. We just fell in love with these schools. It seemed like the perfect fit for our family.

But Sarah, you haven't actually whined about how expensive private schools are and that's the title of this post!

Well, it's true, I just about died when I saw that for Lily to attend Kindergaten, presuming she goes naked and has no school supplies, will cost us $16000 and Archer (also naked and without his colours) will be $15500. But, as I'll be returning to work, my wage will more than cover this and not impact the current household finances which I don't contribute money to.

What really made Bob and I say "Uh oh," and feel very sorry for our poor, hard won savings (Again. That POOR account) was that just to send in the bit of paper with the kids' names on them is going to cost us $320 per child. Fine, we expected this, Somerville was about $250. We also expected the $2000 ish securing of their place fee, which ensures they will, indeed, be attending Kindy in the year we hoped, and is payable 2 years before expected year of entry. What we did not expect, was the tentative place fee, of $1100 for Lily and $2200 for Archer. YIKES.

This fee is a a non refundable fee that "secures" them a place in the event they perform like rockstars in their interview 2 years before entry. So yep, as long as my 4 year olds don't pick their noses, scratch their butts or cut out crooked in their private school interviews, I have not wasted $3300.

Right now, Lily is rubbing her vegemite sandwich in her hair, so it gets the proper flavour before eating. God help us.

2011, I'm glad to see the back of you.

This was supposed be our Christmas letter, but after a hiccup with the cards, we've decided it's going to be a new year's letter and will be sending them out this weekend. However I decided not to wait to put it on the blog.

So, 2011 has come and gone, and throughout this year our family has experienced many highs and lows. In fact, we have experienced the highest highs and the lowest lows.

I feel doing this letter in chronological order may prove confusing, so instead I'm going to break the year into the events that gave the year it's shape.

Mum

This year, on the 11 of January, my mum experienced a brain aneurysm complicated by a subarachnoid haemorrhage and day 8 vasospasms. In English? An enlarged blood vessel  in Mum's brain ruptured, causing a bleed. The bleed resulted in a stroke. Because there was so much blood on her brain, Mum's body tried to protect her brain by constricting the blood vessels.

On day 3 after her aneurysm, Mum seemed to be getting better. She woke up and became animated and interactive, although a little strange and confused. We felt so good, but the worst had not yet passed. Vasospasms typically set in between day 4 and day 14 in about a third of patients with a subarachnoid haemorrhage and they have a very high morbidity rate. So each night I would sit up and wait for the clock to tick over to midnight, and give an excited cheer when no phone call came. But on the night between day 7 and day 8, Mum's character suddenly change and it became clear the very worst had happened. She was placed in a coma and every intervention was tried, but none were effective. Three times we were told that it was time to rally the family to think about withdrawing the support that was keeping Mum alive. And three times another doctor overruled, or Mum improved or showed signs of still being inside her very broken shell. It was finally decided that she would be taken out of ICU and placed on a ward, and if in three months, no improvement was made, support would be withdrawn. The doctor who told us this said that he did not believe Mum would ever improve beyond needing to have around the clock care.

We were devastated.

But Mum proved more awesome, strong and amazing than anyone gave her credit for. It would take pages to describe Mum's healing journey, so I will summarize. She went from strength to strength as days grew to weeks and weeks grew to months. She soon was able to walk with support, hold a reasonably sensible conversation, feed herself (although she really didn't want to) and perform all necessary bathroom applications almost totally unsupported.

For this reason, in May, she was able to be transferred from the Royal Brisbane Hospital to the Brain Injury Rehabilitation Unit at the Princess Alexandra Hospital. 

Soon, she was able to come home for visits on weekends and then before we knew it, in September, Mum returned home for good. She is legally blind, with only partial sight in one eye, has significant difficulties with short and long term memory and has minor problems with speech and gait. She will probably never be wholly independent, but she has come a very long way from those dark, dark January days and has more than 2 years of healing to look forward to before we can say for sure how much damage the aneurysm did. We are truly blessed to have her here with us.

Bob gets a new Job

Last year it had become clear to us  that Bob's career could not reach its full potential in Brisbane and we began to look for alternatives. A few of Bob's friends had moved on from Brisbane to Sydney, gaining employment at Yahoo7, so we decided Sydney was the place for us, but not yet as we had neither the finances nor the energy after Lily's eventful arrival into the world. In January, a job came up at Yahoo's newly acquired company, Spreets. After much talking, we decided that Bob should go for the job. The application and interview process is lengthy for Yahoo, with 7 steps in total. During the interview process, Mum fell ill and I fell pregnant. 

At the end of the interview process, Bob got the job, and we were overjoyed. He was to start in March. But it posed the new problem of what to do with Lily and me. The original plan was that I would move down at Easter, after Bob had found a new place for us and our place had been successfully rented. But, with Mum how she was, and me pregnant and high risk, it was decided that I would stay with Grandma until after the baby was born and Bob would live with his dad, travelling home at weekends.

It was hard, and when I was threatened with preterm labour, it became harder but the job has proven worth it. Mark, Zoe and all the Spreets team have gone above and beyond in being supportive of us in this difficult year and we don't have the words to express how grateful we are.

Lily Grace

Lily is now 19 months old and she is Bob's and my unwavering sunshine. She has met this year of rapid growth and change head on and is now fully caught up for her actually age, growing and changing so much in the last three months in particular we can barely keep up. She now says in excess of 60 words and is more and more frequently using two and three word sentences, she finally walked at 16 months and now tears around the house like she's been doing it for much longer. She can build with Duplo, loves imaginative play and can eat pretty much unassisted with a spoon and fork and loves to drink from a cup. She adores animals of all kinds, books and Dora the Explorer. 

She is a little water baby, and loves going to swimming lessons and the beach. She is incredibly funny and has a growing sense of humour. She is a wonderful big sister and loves her brother dearly, very rarely expressing jealousy. She really is a delight.

But that does not mean she has not had her challenges this year. On Christmas Eve she was taken to the hospital experiencing what we later learned was an anaphylactic reaction. After allergy testing, nothing proved conclusive and our paediatrician said she probably will never experience such an episode again, but just in case we have an allergy plan in place, complete with epipen.

My time on bed rest effected her emotionally in a way that simply breaks my heart. Even though Grandma was taking the best of care of her and hired a full time nanny, it wasn't the same as just having me home. She had difficulties with attachment to me, sleep and eating. But everyone has worked hard with her and she seems as happy and healthy as she ever was and after a rocky patch in our relationship, she is now certain I "hurl the moon", as Bob said just today (with just a hint of jealousy, as this used be his role and he is now demoted to hurling the stars).

I cannot wait to see what next year holds for her as she truly is a sweet, smart, funny and delightful little person who has a bright future.

My pregnancy and Archer Robert

Late last year Bob and I decide Lily was just so great we'd like another one. We decided at that time we'd wait until Lily's first birthday. And then some things changed our mind and we decided we'd like another one sooner rather than later and in February we found out we were expecting.

We were, of course, over the moon, if not a little shocked at how quickly it had happened.

My first trimester was not fun, like any first trimester and having to move out of our house into Grandma's was a real trial as most days I could barely rouse myself from bed. But we did it!

My second trimester brought on a feeling of wellness, excitement about having a much healthier pregnancy as I had my stitch placed at 14 weeks, and of course the all important anatomy and gender scan. At 19 weeks we found out we were having a boy (complete was 10 fingers, 10 toes and an adorable face), but we also found out my cervix was short.

And the nightmare that was Lily's pregnancy came back to haunt me as Dr Cattanach said that if it reduced to 1.5cm, I would have to go on hospital bedrest. And that is just where I found myself at 23 weeks.

With Bob in Sydney, me in hospital and Mum still in BIRU, Grandma decided to give Bob and I the greatest gift she has ever given us, and not only cared for Lily in a way only a Grandma can, but hired a live in nanny. There is no way we can ever repay her, or even thank her on a level that is equivalent. But from the bottom of our hearts we are so grateful.

I was blessedly released just shy of 27 weeks, still on bedrest, but at home with my precious little girl where I belonged. 

At 31 weeks and 5 days, 2 days out from our "sprinkle" and 3 days shy of Lily's birth gestation, Dr Cattanach dropped a bombshell. My stitch was the only thing between our son and the world and his educated guess was that he would arrive with the fortnight. I was so sad. I did not want what happened to Lily to happen to Archer and I could not imagine spending the invaluable hours I had spent at the NICU with Lily with a toddler to care for.

But two weeks came and went. And then four weeks. And finally, after a hiccup at 36+6, the stitch and I parted ways at 37+3 weeks. 

And on the 14 October at 37+6 weeks, Dr Cattanach and I made the decision to induce me and Archer Robert Maidens catapulted his way into the world after an hour of labour at 4.37pm weighing 3.408kg and measuring 51cm.

I might be a little biased, but he is the most extraordinary and beautiful little boy I have ever seen and Bob and I are so very in love. Thank you 1000 times over to the wonderful Dr Stephen Cattanach, Dr Tony Prado and all the staff at the Mater Mothers' Private Hospital in Brisbane for welcoming our son into the world, a perfect, amazing and gorgeous "termie"!

Moving to Gosford

When Archer was just two weeks old, we had to make the final voyage south, this time as a family and permanently! Earlier in the year, Grandma had sold my childhood home at Love Street, Holland Park and with the money had purchased an apartment in West Gosford. She offered to rent it to Bob and I for more than a fair price and we agreed. The day we moved in was the first time we had ever seen it. And we fell in love with it. It is perfect for a young family, with three good sized bedrooms, two bathrooms, a good sized living space and kitchen and a wonderful courtyard. We are so in love with it, in fact, that we have decided to sell our home at Augustine Heights next year and purchase it off Grandma. This will make it easier for me to stay home with the children until they begin school and also mean we can stay put for at least that long as well, which will be a relief.

And may this be the most eventful thing that happens in 2012.

Bring it on!