Author: Veronica

  • Snippets. Sort of.

    Firstly, any questions you asked about Tasmania will be answered sometime this week (in the next few days). I really want to partner them with some photos of Hobart and surroundings and to do that I actually need to go into town.

    So please, if you have any more questions about what Tassie is like, or how things work, don’t hesitate to ask, I promise I will answer. With linky love too! (so, delurk and I will love all over you). And I promise I won’t find any questions stupid, or obvious or anything. No mocking allowed.

    ****

    Quite a few people have enqired as to how this pregnancy is going and my answer is wonderfully. And by that I mean that today I was too sick to function, had to nap as soon as Amy did, and haven’t really been able to eat anything.

    I think I can rest assured that at this point the little one is firmly attached and sticking around for a while yet. The bleeding/spotting has gone away and everything is feeling right on track (heartburn! bloating! nausea! aversion to smell!).

    I have been trying to make an appointment with the doctor, but I haven’t been able to get through (I think the Locum has broken the phone, cos my regular doctor is in Italy).

    I will be ringing them again tomorrow and asking for ANOTHER appointment, in order to get ANOTHER referral for ANOTHER ultrasound. Yeah, I want another ultrasound. I really REALLY want to see that little heart beating.

    ****

    My little sleepless angel (hahahaha) has been, um, sleepless lately. Waking up every 90 minutes between 12am and 6am. I know she has teeth cutting, but she also seems to be having nightmares. Generally all the wake-ups require is a pat on the head and a kiss and she is back asleep. Worse wake ups need a drink of water.

    Unfortunately, we have been having some times when she hasn’t wanted to go back to sleep AT ALL. I’m sorry sweetheart, but 3.45am is not morning time.

    Not at all.

    Damn teeth, silly nightmares.

    It’s a phase, it will pass. Sigh.

    ****

    Amy trod on me the other day and was generally being rough, I cried ‘Owwwwwwwwwwwww’ at her alot, mimicking what she does when she hurts herself.

    Her response? To cuddle my head into her chest, rub my hair and say ‘Shhhhh, Mumeee, is allright, I godda you. Shhhhhh’.

    Which strangely enough, is exactly what I do when she hurts herself.

  • My Tasmania

    Funny, a lot of people lately have asked me what Tasmania is like.

    [To all the Aussies that read my blog, I am writing this for the benefit of the readers who are from other countries. These are my opinions and observations and are in no way set in stone]

    Now, let me see. It gets hotter than hot in summer and colder than cold in winter. Through Spring and Autumn the weather really doesn’t know what it is doing.

    Freezing morning.

    You can wake up to heavy frosts, wait for the sun to burn the fog off, take off your eleventy hundred layers of clothes and swan around in a t-shirt, only to be soaked in rain falling sideways.

    Or you can have 35C days in September (early Spring), only to have them followed by a dreary day of 11C and rain.

    Taken from a bridge as we drove across it.

    Or you can have snow in November (late Spring).

    Sounds like fun, no?

    It is actually. I love Tasmania, I love the unpredictability of the weather. I love how we are an island and that if we wanted, we could drive from one end to the other in under a day.

    I’m not sure how different being pregnant and giving birth is here to the US is. I gave birth to Amy in the Hospital with a midwife in attendence the whole time (standard practice). A doctor will check on you if you need it, but mostly you are left with one midwife (or 2 if you labour through a shift change).

    Still in hospital. I swear, it was the only time she slept.

    The midwives encourage you to eat and drink during labour (I was given sandwiches that I promptly gave to Nathan and orange juice which was lovely). They also suggest that you bring along glucose lollies to help with energy levels, which I know is pretty different from the US practise of ice chips only. (Correct me if I am wrong there).

    All babies are ‘roomed in’ with their mothers and are only taken off to the nursery if you request it or are too sick yourself. Mostly the babies that end up in the nursery, if not sleeping, end up being carried about with the midwives. I remember a midwife checking on me after Amy was born and she was holding 2 babies while she did her rounds.

    Our NICU is called NeoNats (NeoNatal Intensive Care) and the son of my friend spent 13 weeks in there. (He was born at 27 weeks). She wasn’t charged a cent for it.

    Breastfeeding is encouraged from early prenatal visits and the midwifes are really very hesitant to let mothers give up on it, at least to begin with. We don’t get given formula samples or coupons, so if you do decide to formula feed, or can’t breastfeed, you don’t get any formula free or at a reduced price. (I would have loved to have gotten free samples or coupons. I had plenty of people who would gladly have accepted them from me!)

    I have no idea if this actually helps with how many mothers start and keep breastfeeding though.

    Unless you are right in the suburbs, the public transport is pretty crappy. I am feeling ‘in touch’ and lucky because I just discovered a bus to Hobart runs past my door at 7am and would bring me home again at 5.15pm. It only runs once a day, but I am thrilled! It means that I would actually be able to get into town if I wanted.

    We don’t have passenger trains (although I think we should) or trams. Taxi’s are very expensive, but I used to occasionally catch one home from work when I lived and worked in the city.

    It actually rained and OMG look! My grass went green.

    My particular suburb has around 6 houses and a pub. I don’t know my neighbours and therefore I will go days without talking to anyone except Amy, Nathan and Mum (on the phone).

    Primary School runs from Kindergarten – Grade 6. Then our High School is Grade 7 – Grade 10. Then once Grade 10 is completed, you head to College (Grade 11 – Grade 12 and sometimes Grade 13) or TAFE (Skills and Cert Training).

    The road.

    College, TAFE and University are optional. Some teenagers (like I did) land a job and do on the job training as apprentices or trainees straight out of grade 10. [Okay, so I did 3.5 months of grade 11. Don’t yell at me]

    Uhmmm, really, what else do you want to know about? If you ask me, I will do follow up posts, or I will go into more depth with stuff. Sorry there aren’t more photographs of stuff, I haven’t been into town recently. HOWEVER, I plan to be in town sometime this week, so if you would like to see some photos of Hobart, let me know and I will see what I can do.

    Back of a bus.

  • How To Reperkify Your Breasts

    Duct tape.

    You all know I am a big fan of duct tape. Duct tape cures everything, fixes everything and I think in a pinch, you could probably use it to wax your legs (anyone know if this is true? Feel free to ‘fess up). So what you need to do, is kind of create a bra from duct tape and then stick your boobs into a perky position.

    You know, as in not down near your belly button.

    I think the best way to accomplish this would be to stand on your hands and then get your husband/partner/friend/sister to duct tape them that way. Then, you flip (or flop, depending on your acrobatic abilities) back into an upright position and BANG, perky boobs.

    Want it really badly. The J-Lo approach.

    Now, this next one is the J-Lo approach. You need to want it really badly. Deep down you KNOW that there is nothing wrong with your boobs and therefore they should not be sagging. Keep reminding yourself that you want this really badly, there is nothing wrong and BANG, perky boobs.

    [It is to be noted that J-Lo’s approach may only work with conceiving twins after a few years of infertility. It may not have any effect on your perfectly healthy breasts. However, it did seem to have a fantastic effect on her perfectly healthy reproductive system. Not that her many trips to an infertility clinic had anything to do with it though.]

    Tie your nipples to your ears.

    Now this one is likely to make some women cringe. You take a set of nipple clamps –

    and attach them to your nipples. Hopefully if you are anything like me, the time you spent breatfeeding will have completely numbed your nipples. However, if your nipples still have sensation or you didn’t breastfeed, then I recommend this product.

    Once you have the clamps applied, then simply attach string and hoist your boobies up into a perky position. Tie off. Your ears are a good tie off point. BANG! Perky boobs.

    Lay in a pool on your back in freezing conditions.

    Now have you noticed how when you lay in the bathtub your boobs float and seem to resume some sort of pre-child shape? Well, I am going one better.

    You need to find an unheated swimming pool in the middle of winter. Then, you need to float on your back topless in it (it would probably help if there was no-one else using the pool. Midnight is a good time. While you do this, you need someone (husband/partner/friend/sister) to photograph them.

    This method is slightly less permanent than the other 3, but the good thing is, you get a photograph of your perky boobs, seemingly untouched by anything. You will need photoshop abilities though to remove the goosebumps and blue tinge from your skin.

    So there you go, 4 easy and relatively painless (hahahah) methods of reperkifying your breasts.

    **********

    I, the author take no responsibility for duct tape burn, dashed hopes, nipple contusions or hypothermia. But hell, if you want to try any of these methods (or have tried them in the past) feel free to let me know! I am always interested in new ways to reperkify my boobs.

  • Are Ben-Wa Balls The Answer?

    So, I was thinking about my pelvic floor exercises today and about how I don’t remember to do them until bedtime. And honestly, exercises when I am about to go to sleep (even if it is just clenching muscles) is not my idea of a fun time. I mean, not to mention that somehow it seems harder to do the damn kegels than to walk a few kilometres.

    Now, if only walking helped to tone your vagina…

    And anyway, all that tensing and untensing? is going to give me wrinkles. (Does anyone else find themself frowning, or is it only me? Maybe that lady you saw in town wasn’t actually having a bad day, maybe she was just doing her kegels…)

    And then! I discovered to answers too all my problems.

    BEN-WA BALLS!

    You insert them, clench all your [vaginal] muscles (because you wouldn’t be getting anywhere if you clenched your hands) and rock to orgasm. Apparently. And seriously, clenching and rocking to orgasm sounds SO MUCH NICER than just clenching and frowning.

    Then, I started thinking of all the downsides. What is your toddler going to think of Mummy sitting in the corner, rocking, with a strange look on her face?

    Or your partner, as you gasp while stirring the risotto.

    So, Ben-Wa balls would be AWESOME, except for the fact that you would have to find a private moment or two to use them. And who has that kind of time? Somehow,  I really don’t want to start associating vacuuming with orgasms, (although, I’m sure that Nathan would love if I vacuumed more often).

    So Ben-Wa balls just feel a little strange to me. Even if everytime I see them (they are here) I am tempted to buy them. Just for medical reasons you understand…

    I can’t help wondering though, what would happen if you were wearing them, rocking away and they fell out? What if you were in public? Would they stay in your panties, or would they roll down your leg and disappear into the street. Would you pick them back up and pretend that it fell out of your pocket? Would you be game?

    See what happens when I have too much time to think and I am not allowed to have sex? My mind boggles over very small things…

  • I Need To Not Think

    I have made a decision.

    I am not going to google for pregnancy symptoms anymore. I am refusing to type ‘bleeding during early pregnancy’ into my search bar. I do not want to look at ultrasounds of egg sacs implanted in women less pregnant that I am.

    I am not going to make myself crazy anymore.

    I am going to accept that my uterus is wonky and I am not going to be able to see anything until 7 or 8 weeks. I am going to accept the fact that I will have to wait a fortnight before even attempting to think about another ultrasound.

    I am going to remember, that at 7 weeks pregnant with Amy, she only measured 5w5d and at 20 weeks she was lucky to measure 18w. I am going to accept the fact that all my babies are probably going to measure small, or as in the case of the ultrasound yesterday, not be able to be measured at all.

    I need to think about the fact that my sonographer was younger, so probably NOT as experienced as he could have been. I need to think that everything is different this time, and as long as I am still feeling sick and tired, then everything should be on track.

    I need to not be crazy anymore.

    I need to think about the fact that he saw ‘good indicators of pregnancy, but it is too early yet for an egg sac’. I need to remember that he didn’t spend long looking because of the position of my uterus.

    I need to think and I need to not think.

    I need locking in an air bubble for a fortnight, where all I do is sleep.

    I need to stop looking twice when I wipe after going to the toilet, just to check the state of the spotting today. I need to stop stressing about it, because stressing is not going to change the outcome. I need to stop cursing the dildo cam that made me spot.

    I need to turn my damn brain off.

    So…

    I need stories from my wonderful readers about similar ultrasounds and the damn wand, stories of bleeding and healthy babies at the end, stories of how you coped until 12 weeks was up and then, from my childless readers I would love stories about anything you fancy. Just please, reassure me, or take my mind off it somehow.

    Please?