Inactive birthing class

Recently, Erin and I attended an active birthing class.  We went to learn some ways to make childbirth more bearable and so I could learn breathing and massaging techniques to hep Erin.

We started with a meditation.  Erin had to lie on her favoured side and I lay on my back. The leader of the group spoke to us and relaxed us.  He took a long time to relax us making sure we were very relaxed.  After a while he asked the relaxed men to place their hands in between our partner's shoulder blades.  A few seconds after he had said this Erin nudged me to see why I hadn't done as he asked.  There was a reason.  A big one.  I had relaxed so much into the meditation, I had fallen asleep.  I had no idea where my hand was supposed to be, what I should be doing or where I really was. Erin looked at me and whispered: 'Remember why we're here.' 

Oops.

To be fair I haven't been well and I'm still not completely over some fluey symptons. 

After that little mishap I concentrated.  Lots of breathing and massage and general birthing tips then came our way.  

Place your bets

Ok,  so I've noticed that this blog is getting a few more hits on average per day.  I know it's not because the writing is getting any better, so it must be that you all realise that the baby could come any time now.

And if you didn't know that, well, the baby could come any time now.  Erin's at 37 weeks which is full term. The baby is now ready for the real world, but of course, might be a little shy.

So we thought it would be a good idea for whoever reads this to guess when the baby will finally arrive.  You have from now until week 42.  That's until around January 12th.

So leave your dates in the comments section.  The winner gets to push the Bugaboo.  Around the block.  Twice.

On a side note...A very big congratulations to Adi who recently became a doctor.  I  don't think it's the kind of doctor we're going to need very soon, but still very exciting. 

Christmas cookies

Last night we had a few friends over for Erin's Annual Christmas Cookie Decorating.

It sounds nerdy and it is. One of the boys who was painstakingly designing a psychedelic Christmas tree simply said: 'If only my 18 year old self could see me now.'

With all the preparations and baking during the day Erin was quite tired. She was also uncomfortable with the baby positioning itself with what seems to be his or her elbow in between Erin's lungs and ribs. Half way through the evening Erin got up and as she was stretching, started chatting with one of our friends. The next thing we heard was this: 'Oh yes I can feel it. It's so nobbly. It really is very nobbly. I think you've got a monster in there.'

The other girls went over to see what was going on while the boys started singing What's that In Erin's Belly, Is It A Monster? to the tune of The Automatic's Monster.

If Erin did have a monster in her belly, that would be scary. She doesn't, so it's not. But what was truly frightening was when someone got a little carried away with one of their creations and ended up with Ginger The Funky Angel.

You've never seen anything like it.

It looks warm but it isn't

After this was taken we went to pick something up from friends.  If you saw two people struggling on to buses with a moses basket and a white wooden stand then that was us.

Nesting?

When I have a day off I find time to waste on the internet, read books I never finish or listen to mid '90s indy rock B-sides.  

Erin had her first day of maternity leave this week and tidied and cleaned the flat.  I mistook this for nesting but she reminded me that this is what she does when she's off.  She does.  I don't.  I was reminded of that too.

Amid this, she packed her hospital bag and the baby bag.  Erin and I ran though the final things to put in them this morning.  I now know what's in and what's not.  What's needed and what's not. This is unlike last weekend when Erin said she felt funny, thinking the time had come, and I went into a complete psychotic-fumbly-panic, worrying what on earth we had to get ready. Now I know.  I can't promise I won't fumble when the time comes but it will be less psychotic.

The baby's bag has the cutest things in it, boys' blue and girls' pink tops - we honestly don't know the gender, unlike some people think - and simply the cuddliest all-in-one white winter snow suit to come home in.

I think we're getting ready.

Christmas lunch

I told her I was going to write this so I better had.

We had our Christmas lunch at work today and one of my colleagues who occassionally reads the blog started talking to me while there was a bit of a lull in the general conversation. 'Just don't do what my husband did when I went into labour,' she must have been bored and been in a bit of a daydream as this was out of the blue.

'Why?'

'Well,' she continued. 'We didn't have mobiles in those days and I started contractions while he was out. I tried to get hold of him but couldn't. I left messages everywhere. Well, he'd got one of the messages but didn't call me back. I didn't hear from him for ages. I was worried sick.

'The next thing I knew I got a message from the hospital saying "I've got your husband here, I'm going to send him home, as we can't start without you".'

I hope I don't do that. But we'll see.

Transition

'What's it called when women go a bit mad during labour?' said the husband of one of Erin's workmate's to his wife at Erin's leaving do last night.

I much prefer talking to men about labour than women. The most women give is, 'you'll never know the pain unless you go through it yourself.' But most men don't have the filter in their brain to stop themsleves.

'Transition, that's what it's called,' his wife answered, having answered this question a few hundred times before.

'Yeah, transition, that's it. Wow, it's awful. You'll get called everything under there sun, they have no idea what they are saying,' he said looking at his wife for confirmation.

He got it and carried on, 'They tell you they don't love, never loved you, hate you, that you'll never go near them again and you shouldn't have been near them in the first place. There is anger and venom in their voice. They lose it.'

He let go of the emotions which he certainly couldn't during this tirade in labour and ended 'But when it's all over they have more love for you and the baby than you will ever know'.

Later we snook into his son's bedroom. Erin and his wife didn't know what we were doing and thought he was showing his son off. What he was actually doing was letting me feel the temperature of the bedroom. Showing that children need the room cooler than we do. 18 degrees to be precise.