The life and times of primal me

Imagine this. You are quietly observing a bird’s nest. The Mother bird tenderly places a worm into the tiny beak of her young. She nuzzles the top of her baby’s wing as if to encourage a big gulp. The pure innocence of the moment is so captivating—you do not dare to look away.
This is the animal kingdom. We, humans, despite all of our rules and regulations, are just another species in this kingdom where carnivore eats carnivore and plants are served as a side dish. Sure, we are an intelligent species. But we are so like our animal relatives. We really are.

Baby C came into the world five months ago. During his birth—when I found myself involuntarily grunting like a wild bear—I met primal me. She came out at the height of each contraction and dominated every ounce of my rational mind. She jerked and twisted my body as if to remind me that she was in charge now, not me.

And even though primal me scared the pants off me, there was no denying it— she was intriguing. In fact, she was so damn cool I couldn’t believe that she was a part of daggy old me! Not only did she make me a Mummy but she has been helping me figure it all out, ever since Baby C popped on out of the belly.

So, in honour of the awesome new women we become, post Mummy-ness, I’ve decided I’d like to share the 5 things I’ve loved most about meeting primal me.

1. The beautiful need for skin on skin contact with my smooth bummed little one. It was the way he started life: all nudie and squid-like. I never want to forget that feeling.

2. Tiger woman. When I see hot coffee moving toward my baby, however confident the waiter, tiger woman is ready to pounce and protect. How crazy awesome is the maternal instinct?

3. The way I feel when my baby smiles at me. Five months have passed since his birth and that smile still takes me to marshmallow land.

4. Watching Mr C dote over our little cub. Sure, my spunky hubby had me at hello. But now, Mr C is my ‘Daddy hero’.

5. The new found confidence I’ve found within myself. My womanhood. My body. When I was pregnant, I’d never felt more beautiful. Or more sexy. Even at 39 weeks pregnant.

Scratch that.

Especially at 39 weeks pregnant.

photo (3)

Modern Day Mama

Imagine a world without the internet. Now imagine you’re living in it…and trying to conceive.

It’s a crazy thought, and one that deserves some time. How did the lovely ladies of the past get the job done? I can’t imagine the encyclopaedia going into great detail about what fertile cervical mucus (cm) looks like.

Last week, my Mum came to stay at my house for a few days. Now, as you all know, Mister C and I are keeping our baby making fairly quiet. People know it’s going to be soon, they just don’t know when. But this is my Mum we’re talking about. There is no point in trying to pull the wool over her eyes; she knows me too well.  So, I jumped at the chance to get her take on everything.

On her visit, I asked her how she had approached the art of baby making. Did she monitor her cm and ovulation dates? Four kids later, I figured she’d be a pro on all this stuff.

Her response:

She sometimes tracked ovulation dates and, well, shagged.

So, you see? There was no internet cm instruction manual. No frantic googling of two week wait symptoms. There also wasn’t much exposure to the realities of miscarriage and infertility.

Part of me envies her for that. The other part of me feels sorry that she missed out on all the beautiful things you can find on the internet, the things that excite you about the possibility of becoming a mother.

One of my favourite parts of this journey to babyland is reading all the inter-blogs. I can’t get enough of them. Really, that’s why I started writing my own. I love reading birth stories; being able to share in the moments that changed someone’s life forever. They really are beautiful.

I mean, I suppose there were books for that sort of stuff back in the day. I’m just not sure it would have occurred to me to actually go buy a book of birth stories though.

Nowadays, modern technology is king. This is the world we live in. And I am grateful. But I do always like to look back at where we’ve come from. It’s nice to know that without all this awesome modern stuff—like the internet—we’d still be okay.


Me and My Inner Voice

There is something to be said about intuition.

As much as I like to think there is a rhyme or reason for most things in life—I am yet to find the logic behind that little voice in my head that seems to know everything.

Where does she come from and how does she know that stuff?

This month, as I was faithfully hoping that my period would not arrive, she spoke to me. She said, ‘You are not pregnant. You need to deal with this. Stop trying to search for signs to prove me wrong.’

And what do you know? She was right. My period came right on time.

Even though, in my conscious mind, I knew that there was every chance that I could be pregnant—my inner voice was telling me otherwise. Of course, I chose not to believe her. Who wants to pay attention to the little angel on their shoulder when she is giving them bad news?

Some women say they experience no pregnancy symptoms at all. Some women say they just knew they were pregnant. But how did they know? That’s what makes this intuition business so hard to believe.  What logic lies behind the phenomenon? What is the science?

Maybe that’s our problem these days. Maybe we rely too much on modern science and logic. It seems to me that our early ancestors had no problems avoiding dinosaurs without fitting them with a GPS tracker.

I didn’t need my inner voice to tell me that I was a little disappointed not to be pregnant this month. That was obvious. And only natural.

But on the other side of the coin: now I could have a glass of wine, something I’d been holding off just in case the oven was with bun.

You see? Things aren’t all that bad if you look at the glass half full.

Especially when that glass is half full of wine.


The results

I nervously sat at my work desk, tapping my pen against my lip.

My colleagues have no idea we are even considering parenthood, so I thought it best to google the number of my doctor as discretely as possible then head outside to make the call.

I typed the number into the dial screen and then slowly got up for my afternoon break. I slung my bag over my shoulder and shuffled through reception, down the stairs, then out into the glorious sun. I knew just where to make the call: around the corner, where no one would over hear.  I would also have some much needed shade under the overhanging trees that lined the street.

The ring tone sounded and then quickly cut off.  A young man named Ben introduced himself and the practice with a lovely, upbeat trill to his voice. I responded with an equal amount of joy.

‘Hi Ben! My name is Miss C, and I am just wondering when I might expect the results of my blood test.’

I knew very well that it would probably be tomorrow since today was Wednesday—my doctor had said I should expect the results on Thursday.

‘Well, let me just check for you,’ Ben replied.

I could hear the tap tap tapping of a keyboard underneath busy fingers, and before too long Ben started to speak. At first, a car flew past me so I completely missed what he was saying. His voice sounded a little bit hesitant though. Immediately I thought, ‘Oh no,’

The next thing I heard him say was, ‘I can give you the results now over the phone  if you’d like’.

So they had arrived early! Yes!

                I gave Ben my approval to deliver the results and the results were good. He said that because everything had come back completely normal, no further action would be required on my behalf. I nearly squeaked with joy, I was that excited. I mumbled something dumb to Ben like, ‘That’s great news, I’m not dying,’ and got an equally awkward response back.

No wonder he was awkward about the ‘dying’ remark.

I had only had a pre-natal blood test done.

How I survived my pre-pregnancy check up!

My doctor told me, months ago, that these days a pre pregnancy check-up was recommended and that when the time came I was to go back and have a blood test to make sure all was good to go.

That time came the other day.

I turned up to the pathology clinic. The white walls and the empty corridor made it very hospital like; and a little creepy. No one was around. No Nurses, no patients. But, as I walked along the corridor, I spotted the Nurse on duty. She was quietly hunched over her desk and had no idea that I was there. I decided to play a little game to catch her attention. I sat right opposite her open door and rustled some magazines, as if I was actually looking for one to read. My tactics worked! In less than ten seconds, I had caught her eye.

‘Oh hello,’ she said as she walked toward me, slightly embarrassed to be caught slacking on the job.

‘Hello’ I said back, feeling kind of awkward. To be quite honest, I was freaking out just a bit. It had been a long time in between needles and I really wasn’t sure how I would go with it all. She guided me to the ‘blood taking’ seat. The thing looked more like a lethal injection seat than anything else.

Then it happened. Something completely horrifying to any non-pregnant young lady. The Nurse smiled at me and said very kindly, ‘Is this your first?’

Now, she was an Indian lady and I couldn’t quite understand her, so I asked her what she said again. She repeated, ‘Is this your first Baby,’ before she pointed to my rounded stomach.

She thinks I’m Pregnant?! At first, I was a little bit shocked. I was already feeling a little sensitive because my figure hugging dress was currently framing my belly chub in all the wrong places—for some strange reason, the small amount of fat on my belly had become quite round over Christmas.

‘Oh! No, I’m not pregnant,’ I giggled, ‘Well not yet. This is just my pre pregnancy blood test.’

The poor lady’s face dropped as she apologised. She said that she had seen, ‘pre-natal’ on my form and had just assumed. No harm done I suppose. I am not pregnant, though in that moment: I so wished that I could have replied yes. Yes, this is my first baby.

So now, I patiently wait for the results. If they come back saying I need a top up of rubella—it will delay our baby making expedition. And I really don’t think I can wait much longer. I’ve already agreed to wait until after my 30th. But then, I just want to be free to try.

Fingers crossed that my body is functioning as it should.

Pre pregnancy blog. Pregnancy blog. Baby Blog.

“Syringe” by renjith krishnan.