The art of juggling work and home life ....

To stay at home or to work......... it's the million dollar question

As a child, when I thought about how I wanted my life to be, I always envisioned myself to be a stay at home mum until my children were at school, In reality though very few families can afford to do that in this era, and so when I fell pregnant I had to face the cold hard fact that I would have to go back to work. 

At the start of my maternity leave I had always planned to return to work after 6 months. Financially it was the only option, as Simon is still studying and I am the primary breadwinner. Fortunately Cooper's arrival was timed perfectly with my first day of maternity leave so I still had plenty of annual leave up my sleeve, and I chose to use it to give me an extra month at home, and to allow me to get through the festive season without having to worry about work as well.

The plan was to have Cooper in day care 3 days a week while I was in the office and for me to work two half days from home for the first 12 months  re-evaluating my position when the 12 months expired. Unfortunately, although Cooper's name had been on the waiting list at day care for around 16 months they could not offer him a position until February. God bless Grandparents. My mum and mother in law were both able to pitch in and help get us through January when I headed back by coming and staying for up to two weeks each.

One of the biggest concerns and fears I had, and I suppose all working mothers have, was in regards to my perception in the office. I work in a male dominate work place, and I 've seen first hand the effect that returning to work in a part time capacity after having a baby has done to some women. I know myself I was always quick to judge mothers who said they were "working from home" for the afternoon because their child was sick, and I swear the amount of times their child was sick was at least once a fortnight, I had no idea that this is just the reality of having your child in childcare. My how my perceptions quickly changed the instant Cooper was born. The thought that I could judge my fellow sisters so harshly made me sick to my stomach and made me wonder just what was being said about my work performance in the office given I worked 2 days a week from home. Not only that, but with Cooper literally sick for 3 weeks I hardly spent a full day in the office in his second month of childcare. I was terrified of being judged the way I had judged others, and to those women, if you are reading this, I am beyond sorry. No one will ever know how hard you do work to make sure your performance in your job doesn't suffer as a result of working from home.

I've worked in my role for over 2 years now, I like to think I'm really good at what I do, and about 2 months after returning to work my manager requested a performance appraisal. At this stage I was feeling confident about my work performance, Cooper hadn't yet been sick and I was producing good outcomes and staying on top of my work load. I guess I'm lucky that my manager has 3 young children, and he has always reiterated to me that family comes first, however I was shocked when he proceeded to tell me in my appraisal that he wanted me to look at management as a role I should take on in the future and offered me the chance to study through work to gain some professional development in the area.  After that meeting, I felt valued, I was super confident that I could be a working mother and still spend the time I wanted to with Cooper and Simon, I felt like I had made the right decision to go back to work after 7 months.


Fast forward two weeks and Cooper gets his first serious cold and I have to take time off. A few days later it was gastro, a week later an inner ear infection and then just recently a bout of hand foot and mouth disease. The timing couldn't have been worse, I'd just had my performance appraisal, which came out glowing, and then without warning I was absent from the office at least 3 out of 5 days each week for a month due to the need to care for Cooper. It was then that I started to get frustrated, I wasn't sleeping well, I was emotional and I started to wonder why Simon couldn't once just take the day off to care for Cooper so I could get into the office and do some work.

I knew the answer, and the answer was this, even though Simon worked 3 jobs and continued to study, it's not that he couldn't take the day off, it's not that we knew he isn't entitled to carers leave and therefore didn't get paid on his days at home, it's that I had simply never thought to actually ask him to. I guess the MUM in me wants to be the one to nurse Cooper back to full health, I am the women who wanted to be a stay at home mum and I still take on that role even though I work full time. It made me wonder how many other working mums out there do this? and why? Is it the immense guilt we feel for having to work, not that that stacks up well against the immense guilt we feel for having to take the time off work to do it. I've come to the conclusion that no matter what you do, when you are a mother, regardless of whether you stay at home or go back to work, you ALWAYS feel guilty for something.

Mummy and Cooper on our way to work and day care

The other side to working full time - is not having the time to clean
Cooper's room

In Sickness and in Health

Every mum knows that when your baby goes into childcare they are bound to get ill. Childcare is a smorgest board of disease and illness, and on one hand you know deep down that this helps your baby's immune system to develop, but the reality of having a sick child is horrible.


And mother of the year goes to.........................

About 2 weeks into Cooper's time in childcare he got his first cold. It was  a simple runny nose and cough, I borrowed a humidifier and got my hands on some baby Vicks and nursed my baby back to full health. It was probably only two weeks later when Cooper suddenly developed a bad case of diarrhoea and as a secondary symptom a terrible case of nappy rash. He wasn't eating like he normally would and had a fever. Despite people telling me to leave it 48 hours I was not convinced I should so the next morning, after a rough night we headed off to the doctors. Diagnosis, viral infection and the recommended treatment was as simple as keeping his fluids up. Later that evening, about 2 hours after I put him down for the night at 6:30pm he woke up covered in vomit and screaming, he continued to throw up and his diarrhoea was only getting worse and so we had our first trip to emergency.

His fever was at 39.9 degrees Celsius when we arrived and they checked us straight in. They dosed him straight up with Neurofen, took a urine and stool sample and monitored him until his fever came right down allowing us to head home around 2am. It took 3 or 4 days for Cooper to recover completely and a little longer to completely rid him of nappy rash (I will never forget how red his little bottom was during that week, I just felt so bad that no matter how often I changed his nappy, how much cream I used or nappy free time he had, there was nothing I could really do until the diarrhoea stopped). Those 5 days were the hardest days I had faced as a mum, the sleepless nights you suffer through in that first month or so after birth were nothing compared to this.

It couldn't have been more than 3 or 4 days later when I was asked to come and pick Cooper up from childcare again. He was unsettled, had a slight temperature and had thrown up most of his breakfast and morning tea. I didn't know what to say, the Doctors had given us the all clear on the virus and I was certain teething was the cause of the problem, but due to the outbreak of gastro the centre couldn't be too cautious and I respected that, after all I wouldn't want another child to have to endure the horrible virus Cooper had. So, yet again I apologise to my boss and pick Cooper up, and took him off to the Doctors in order to get clearance to put him back in care the next day. Well I was right on one hand, Cooper was cutting 4 new teeth, all on the top, but he was also suffering from a double inner ear infection. He was prescribed Penicillin and headed back into care the next day.

I could not believe it when the next day around 11am I received another call, in fact I was so tired and emotional from the week prior I just burst into tears when they told me they suspected Cooper had Hand Foot and Mouth disease. The poor kid could not catch a break and I was in absolute shock, at 8am when I had dropped him off he did not have a single mark on him,  by the time I collected hi at around 11:30am  his hands were covered in blisters and he had not eaten a single thing all morning. At this point I was embarrassed to walk into the Doctors, I felt useless and a complete failure, how could I a) not see that he had hand foot and mouth and b) let my baby get sick so many times within a month!


I knew this was not all my fault,  just the result of Cooper being in day care 4 days a week, which made me feel even more guilty about not being able to have him at home more and it stirred up more of those emotions about the work life balance and how desperately I wished we could afford for me to work part time.

The miracle of life

The Birth Plan
So at around the time I packed my labour bag I also wrote up a draft birth plan that I gave to my midwife and husband. When I think about it a birth plan is really pointless, yes it forces you to think about labour and ideally how you would like it to go, but in reality you can never really prepare yourself for it, you can never judge exactly how your body  will cope once it starts.

My birth plan was pretty simple:

• I wanted to try to give birth naturally, without the aid of medication
• I wanted to avoid an episiotomy at any cost
• I wanted to be free to walk around or get into any position I felt comfortable in
• I wanted very few internal examinations
• I did not want the cord cut until it had stopped pulsating
• I wanted Simon to have the chance to cut the cord when it was time
• I wanted instant skin to skin unless the baby required urgent medical attention
• I would like the use of Pictocin to help expel the placenta
• I did not want family members to enter the room until after I had been given the chance to feed my new baby

Its amazing looking back and thinking how little I actually knew about labour despite my every effort to read up and educate myself about all possible scenarios.


Push Push Push

It was a Sunday, 8 days before my EDD and 3 days after I lost my plug. I wasn't due to commence maternity leave until Monday however after a false alarm earlier in the week I'd called in sick for my last two work days and as such had been sitting at home for the last 4 days. Now that I think about it I know I should have never have uttered the word BORED, all I could think about was how on earth I was going to get through the next 8 days without losing my mind, and heaven help me if the baby came late.

 If I had known then what I know now I would have enjoyed every last second of boredom.

Sunday was football day. Simon kicked off at around 3pm, but we always headed to the field early to cheer on the under 18s and Reserve grade side.Simon's game was a close one, and I was up and out of my seat a few times during the match to cheer, I noticed a few uncomfortable twinges in my belly towards the later parts of the game but thought nothing of it, putting it down to me being a little to active. We hung around after the game (which Simon's team had won) for a few celebratory drinks, It was around 7 when we got home and we decided that we'd go and see a movie (the hangover 2) at the 9pm showing. Through the movie I was terribly uncomfortable, movie seats at the best of times are uncomfortable, but when you are heavily pregnant they seem far worse, I kept fidgeting not able to find a comfortable position and starting to feel some pressure really low in my tummy.

We got home around 11pm, showered and hopped into bed, I think I fell asleep the instant my head hit the pillow i was so exhausted, but not 30 minutes later I woke up feeling slightly wet again, too embarrassed by my last false alarm I didn't wake Simon and got up out of bed and made my way to the bathroom and I kid you not, the second I stepped onto the tiled bathroom floor my waters broke. All I could think was thank goodness I was standing over a tiled area, the second thing I thought about was cleaning it up before I woke Simon, so I got out a mop and bucketed and started to clean.

Simon must have heard me, because the next thing I knew he was up and looking blankly at me like I had well and truly lost the plot. I told him my waters had broken, for real this time, and I needed him to call the hospital and ask them if they wanted us to come in.

Our hospital was about 20 minutes away, so when they said they wanted us to come in to check me out, we packed our bags and headed off straight away. At this stage I was not experiencing any contractions, so I knew that it was going to be a while yet until we got to meet out little miracle. After confirming that my waters had indeed broken and letting me know I was dilated around 2 cms the sent us to labour at home, telling me to come back once I could no longer manage the pain or if it got to 10am and I was still not experiencing any contractions.

We got back home around 1am, and after changing the sheets for the second time within a week lay down to try to get some rest, my mind ticking over at a hundred miles and hour. About 15 mins after I lay down I had the most intense contraction I had experienced, it last for around a minute long and eased off, 4 minutes after it had stopped I got another one, an even more intense one and I knew that this was happening. I got out of bed and walked around allowing Simon to get a little bit of shut eye, at around 2am and after constant 1 min long, 4 min break contractions I ran myself a bath, lit some candles and try to relax through them. It wasn't helping, the contractions were hard and fast and I hardly had a chance to catch my breath from the last one before the next one started up again, I laboured at home like this till around 3:30am and then made the call that it was time to go. Simon called the ward and let them know we were on our way back.

It's funny how long a 20 minute car ride feels when you're in labour............I swear it took far longer than it did earlier in the night, but once we arrived we were set up in our ward and I felt much more comfortable. I think it was knowing that I was safe, that no matter what happened that I was where I needed to be that made me feel reassured and as relaxed as someone could be whilst experiencing 1 minute long 3 minute rest back to back hard contractions.


It was about 5:30am when I started to feel exhausted, after all, I hadn't really had any sleep for around 20 hours, my body was working over time I was kneeling over a bean bag, I was in pain, and with each contraction the pain got more intense, it was now that my midwife asked if I would like  to try some gas .Before taking it I asked if I could be examined, thinking that if I knew how much further I had to go I could, excuse the pun, push through it. I was at 5cm, and I took the gas without hesitation, breaking the first of my birth plan dot points, breathing it in deeply each time I felt a contractions start. The mid wife kept telling me I was doing a great job, that my body was working really hard and if I could keep it up our baby would be in my arms before lunch.

At 6am Simon called our parents letting them know that I was well and truly in labour and that they could come and visit some time around 1 or 2pm based on the mid wife's assumptions. Soon enough though the gas wasn't doing its job any more, it was 7:30am and at this point I am not ashamed to admit I looked at Simon and begged him for the epidural and he didn't hesitate in demanding it from the mid wife. Before we could get the Epi I needed to be examined again, it was 8am and I had only progressed another centimetre in 3 hours, I was completely disheartened, and although the mid wife kept telling me I had done such an amazing job, I could not believe that in 2 and a half hours I had hardly progressed at all. I got the epidural.


It was around 12pm when our parents arrived, both having travelled around 2 hours to get there I felt like I should break yet another of my birth plan points and let them come in to see me, having had the epi I was quite relaxed and able to talk to them for a few minutes, ensuring them I was ok, and apologising repeatedly for not having given birth to their grandchild yet. After they headed out to get some lunch the mid wife checked me again, I had reached 7cm - I still had a long way to go and the Epidural seemed to have really slowed things down. I was encouraged to have an injection of Pictocin to help rev up the contractions again, the first dose did nothing and as I was checked again at 3pm and still wasn't quite progressing fast enough they upped the dose and gave me another shot of the pictocon and encouraged me to start to let the epidural wear off a little to help speed things up. I started to feel my contractions come back and start to speed up, something was working.

I clearly remember the mid wife asking the doctor who came in while I was being anaesthetised to come in again around 5pm, he examined me, I was just over 8cm and he informed me if I wasn't fully dilated at 6pm, they would be taking me off to have a C-Section. It was then that I got really anxious - I had not wanted a C-section, that was not part of my birth plan, I let the Epidural wear off further, and now feeling the full force of every contraction was back in significant pain, my body was uncontrollably shaking and the mid wife informed me that this was my body's way of telling me I was almost done and would be able to start pushing soon. She was right. At 6pm and no later the doctor came back in, I was grunting and trying to control my language with every contraction, it was good news, I was at 10cm and I was ready to push.


I don't really remember much between 6pm and 7:46pm when my son was born, but I remember thinking that I was doing really well controlling my urge to scream and moan, later Simon told me I did not control these things well and that in fact he had never before  heard me use such colourful language in such a nice way. I remember apologising repeatedly to the midwives and getting so unbelievably frustrated when they continued to tell me to use the energy I was using to moan to push..... really.... this was their advice.... had they never given birth??

With every push I could feel Cooper moving further and further down, then it happened, I experienced what women who have given birth can only describe as the "ring of fire". Cooper was crowning, and with every push I grew closer to seeing him for the very first time, then the midwife told me to stop pushing and to not push through the nest 3 contractions to allow my body to stretch,  SAY WHAT! that was last thing I wanted to do, but I listened, and that my friends was the single most excruciating moment of my life.


3 pushes later, Cooper was born, he was perfect, and the look on Simon's face when we saw that he was a boy was something that I will never forget, it was beautiful. I had given him a son, teary eyed and full of pride we held Cooper between us, more in love than we had ever been before.

There are not many people I have told this, in fact, I'm not sure I have told anyone, but in the moment Cooper was born I didn't feel over powering love for him like I had been lead to believe I would, instead I felt more of a feeling like I had always loved him, that he'd always been a part of my life and that now it was my only job to protect him. The overwhelming sense of motherly love didn't hit me until about 3 weeks into having him at home, I remember looking down at him while he was nursing and thinking that I would not be able to survive with out him.


Our beautiful boy at only a few hours old

Our first family photo



Simon's first fathers day

A first pregnancy..... the craziest journey of them all

33 weeks along

The first trimester

Morning sickness hit me like a ton of bricks 6 weeks in and inconveniently on the car ride home from our honeymoon. I remember looking at Simon in disgust when he opened a packet of chicken chips and the aroma wafted up my nostrils like it was the most grotesque smell in the world, and to this day the smell of chicken chips still does not sit right with me. Its funny what your mind chooses to remember and what it chooses to forget during pregnancy and labour, as I look back on these early weeks I find myself saying "was it really that bad" - I suppose this is your bodys' way of convincing you that falling pregnant again isn't such a bad idea.

What I do remember however is that morning sickness did not last just for the morning, but all day and stayed this way for around 18 weeks. I also remember that feeling of second guessing everything I did, ate or drank in fear that I could somehow do something that may cause harm to the growing little being in my body. It's amazing how sacredly we treat our body when we know we are pregnant, how almost instantaneously we form the strongest bond with the tiny grape seed growing in there, the truth is that little grape seed is stronger than we know right from the very start, and our fears are more often than not totally unjustifiable.

At 10 weeks as I sat in my office I started to experience some pretty heavy cramping and terrible stabbing pains, so on the advice of Dr Google I called Simon and met him at emergency. My heart was heavy and although I tried to tell myself not to jump to conclusions I was a mess by the time I saw the doctor, and after waiting 6 hours and through numerous tests they sent me off for an ultrasound to inspect my appendix. This was the first time we laid eyes on Cooper (although we had no idea if it was a boy or a girl and wouldn't until the day he was born), his heart beat was strong and he was doing just fine. That was the good news, the bad was that if it was in fact my appendix and I required surgery we would surely lose our little baby. After a night of close observation, monitoring and an IV drip, they sent me home confident that all was well, and thankfully it was.

The first 12 weeks dragged on. It seemed like an eternity had passed since we had told our parents at 6 weeks that they were going to be grandparents for the very first time. I'll never forget the reactions for both sides, my Dad's first instinct was to ask us if it was, as he put it, "by accident" and my mum could have won an Oscar for the performance she put on to act surprised in front of my dad. Simon's parents and family took the news a bit differently, his mum couldn't do anything but cry, it had been an emotional weekend what with the wedding and all, and his dad kind of just said congratulations with a grin from ear to ear, his brother on the other hand a little in shock came out with "what, who is, Helene???".

With every week that past I found myself constantly on Google or pregnancy websites reading up about what was developing next and how my body was changing in awe of the miracle of life and just waiting till that magical milestone of 12 weeks so I could go and buy that first precious piece of clothing or stuffed toy. I was exactly 12 weeks and 3 days when I had my 12 week ultrasound, and even though holding a bladder full of water all morning was tough, the instant the sonographer gave us the A-OK and told us our little bean was doing just great the feeling of urgency to pee was overcome with a cascade of tears of joy. It was in that moment that it hit me, I was going to be a mummy. After the ultrasound, rather than heading back to work straight away I headed straight into Myer and picked out the most adorable uni-sex outfit, complete with little beanie, mittens and baby blanket. The cost of the outfit was phenomenal for the tiny amount of cotton it was created from, but it was worth every cent when I look back and remember the pride and joy I had when walking up to the register and boasting that I had just reached the first of many milestones in my pregnancy.

Through my first trimester I continued to exercise regularly, and I needed to, for all I wanted to eat was pasta, hot chips and heavy starch loaded carbohydrates. I gained a lot of weight in my first trimester, most of which I'm sure was water weight, but by 12 weeks it was hard to hide my little bump and extremely swollen 12C breasts from the work place. When I finally announced my pregnancy I was met with overwhelming congratulations as well as overwhelming "I knew it, your boobs are huge". I suppose my growing bust and waistline was a dead giveaway and without exercise I would have been the size of a house by 12 weeks, next time around I'll be far more disciplined with eating healthily during the first tri... I promise myself as I sit here eating pizza, well, I'm not pregnant yet!



The second trimester

The second 12 weeks flew by. At around 18 weeks I started to feel really good, I had that pregnant glow and all the energy in the world. My little bump was start to grow nicely and I was starting to  feel more confident in my own skin. Truth be told it took me till about 24 weeks to actually like the way my body looked, until then I just felt fat and bloated. I guess that was the hardest part of my pregnancy, coming to terms with not being this thin, athletic person anymore, and as much as I wanted to believe I could be one of those beautifully skinny women with nothing but a nice round bump out front, I was not one of those women! My short stature made me look heavy and rounded all over, but by the time I'd reached 24 weeks I was starting to accept my body and loved the way my belly stuck out nice and round for the world to see I was clearly pregnant and not just letting myself go now I've got that ring on my finger.


I remember so many women telling me that by around 17 - 19 weeks they started to feel their babies kick, but by 20 weeks I still wasn't feeling a thing. This just made my 1st pregnancy paranoia that something was going to go wrong worse. Every night I'd lye in bed trying to convince myself I felt that first tiny flutter, but to no avail. I remember being so disappointed at our 20 week anatomy scan when the sonographer kept laughing that Cooper would not stay still long enough to get a good shot for us to take home, and how she was surprised I wasn't feeling him wriggle around in their regardless of my anterior placed placenta. Around about 30 mins into the scan, the sonographer asked us if we wanted to know what we were having, I remember looking at Simon thinking, I hope he's changed he's mind, because at that exact moment I really wanted to know. Regardless of how wonderful the surprise would be at the end of all that hard work I did want to know, unfortunately Simon did not and I knew that there was no way known that I could keep a secret that big for that long. Simon's justification is one probably most men think about, Simon wanted a boy, and he'll kill me when he sees that I've written this, but he was worried that because his desire to have a son first was so great if he'd found out a little girl was on her way he may have felt disappointed. However he also knew that when push comes to push in the labor ward and the end result is a happy healthy little baby he would just be so glad and overwhelmed that gender wouldn't matter any more.So that being said we didn't find out.

It was right on 23 weeks I felt the first little flutter of movement in there that wasn't gas related. It was early morning and I was just laying in bed rubbing my tummy with mama bee belly balm as I always did to avoid stretch marks and I felt the tiniest little tickle from inside me. I was so excited that I had to stop myself from jumping out of bed, but as I lay there a little longer feeling our baby's first kicks I started to cry, it was the first time I had felt so reassured that everything was going to be OK.

It was in this trimester when I started to put together all the bits and pieces for the nursery. It is amazing how generous people are when they know you are having a baby, we were given so many things like bassinets, blankets, stuffed toys, nappy pales and clothes, but it wasn't until we picked up our cot and change table that it all started to come together. By 28 weeks and the end of my second trimester the nursery was almost complete.

the nursery - almost complete

The third trimester

Every women who has ever been pregnant will tell you the third trimester is the worst, that they were uncomfortable, impatient and tired. I was not one of those women. I LOVED the third trimester, I loved the size of my bump, I loved the kicks, I loved the attention and I loved that Simon was finally able to feel his son move. Yes, the last month was hard, yes, I was very emotional and yes I was impatient to meet our little one but I have never slept better than I did during those last 12 weeks, I was uncomfortable but I think staying active throughout my pregnancy really helped those general aches and pains.

My baby shower was planned in my 31st week of pregnancy, it was a beautiful sunny day and I decided that we should move the shower to a near by park. My host, one of my best friends had organised some great games, there was wonderful food and drinks and I couldn't have imagined how generous peoples gifts were. I was given so many gorgeous gifts and things I didn't know I needed until I was given them.

I was given:

• A room tempegg - a magical device that reads room temperature and then flashes a certain colour if the room is too hot or cold - to let you know what to dress your baby in.
• Plaster Cast set  - for moulding perfect replicas of the tiny little feet and hands of my baby
• A diaper bag
• Stuff animals and toys
• Plenty of onsies and cute outfits in a range of sizes
• A medicinal set, baby nail clippers, thermometer and creams
• Breast pads and nipple shields
• Children's books
• Photo frames
• Linen and Blankets
• loveys

Me at the baby shower with a bucket load of gifts

At 33 weeks I had a friend of mines younger sister, (AR Photography) take some pregnancy photos for me (have a look at her link - its worth the peak) I was feeling radiant and wonderful and I'm so glad I captured that on camera. I think if there is anything I would encourage pregnant women to do, it to is get some photos taken of your beautiful body because you never truly appreciate it's beauty until you look back on the photos.


Simon and I had planned a bit of a babymoon on the north coast of NSW between 35 and 36 weeks, this coincided perfectly with my best friends wedding which happened to be only a few hours drive from our little love getaway.  Thankfully Kate had the good sense not to ask me to wear any form of bridesmaid dress, but I did get to enjoy in all the pre-wedding day festivities, minus the celebratory champers. As any women will tell you finding the perfect outfit for a wedding is stressful enough, add into the mix a bulging bump and heaving12D breasts and it becomes almost impossible. I managed to find some success in a size 12 Cooper St strapless full length maxi dress, I still have the dress and I hoping one day to get it taken in to fit me post baby bump, because as much as I loved the dress while I was pregnant, I can only imagine it will look much better on when I'm not that BIG!

My parents joined Simon and I for 2 days on our mini babymoon, It was nice not to have to cook or clean but I remember how awkward it was the first time I popped on my bikini, my breasts spilling out the front and sides, my tiny briefs sitting very low under my belly and my Dad's face of absolute embarrassment that I was in fact going to the beach like that. It was funny, the bigger I got the more comfortable I was in my skin, my Dad did not share the same confidence walking down the sand dunes next to Simon and I.

About 5 days after returning from the wedding and babymoon I started to experience some light spotting that continued for around 24 hours, I didn't think it was anything to worry about but I snuck myself of to hospital while Simon was at work, not wanting to worry him. As I was waiting to be seen I had a revaluation.... how could I not have thought of it before.... after all I had read about over the last 8 months.... this was the start of my bloody show! After the once over the nurse sent me on my way assuring me that baby's arrival wouldn't be more than 10 days away.


Well 10 days came and past and still no baby. At around 38 1/2 weeks, the Wednesday during my last week of work  I was sitting at my desk and started feeling some pretty serious braxton hicks contractions but nothing further. Later that night I was laying in bed wishing the baby out of me when my braxton hicks got serious, I got out of bed and started pacing the living room hoping to help induce labor, after about 5 hours the contractions stopped, suffice to say I did not sleep well that night and neither did Simon. I called work the next morning and let them know I wouldn't be in until later to sign out and hand over my office key to my back fill. I got home around 2pm and put my feet up. About an hour after that I had the sudden urge to clean, and clean I did for the next 3 hours.


That night I had a few more untimable contractions but managed but managed to fall asleep somewhere between 1 and 2am. About an hour later I woke up feeling wet............ had my water broke? Was I leaking amniotic fluid? I woke Simon and we headed into the maternity ward.


Now here's the most embarrassing moment of my entire pregnancy. We were checked into a ward and a lovely mid wife came to examine me, the good news was I was half a finger tip dilated, the bad news was that my water hadn't broke, I had just wet myself. Humiliated, and Simon in stitches laughing we drove home.


The next morning, after washing my bed sheets and airing out my mattress I jumped into the shower, not 5 mins into washing my hair I notice a clump of snot like gunk on the floor on the shower and upon closer inspection I excitedly proclaimed it to be my mucus plug..... woo hoo things we starting to happen!

Then comes mummy pushing a baby CARRIAGE

About 6 months before our wedding date I had been to see the doctors, Simon and I both knew we wanted to start a family as soon as possible, and after getting the once over my doctor's advice was to start trying straight away as it might take 6 - 12 months for us to fall pregnant given I was on birth control for so long. Anxious about actively trying before our wedding we delayed trying to conceive until about 6 weeks before the wedding. In my head, that 6 weeks would still allow me to fit into my wedding dress without anyone knowing should we magically fall pregnant straight away.

About 2 weeks before Simon and I were due to walk down the aisle I was starting to feel unbelievably tired and my breasts were so tender it hurt to wear a bra that had an underwire. Even though I was still 7 days away from when my next period was due I was convinced I was pregnant and so I secretly went to the chemist and bought 1 of every kind of test available.

The day was a public holiday in Canberra, coincidently it happened to be Family Day, September 27th 2010, it was 10am, Simon was still in bed and I had locked my self in the bathroom and was trying to muster up the courage to take a test so excited of the possibility that I could be pregnant. I think I was so nervous and excited that I managed to pee on my hand before correctly positioning the stick in my stream. Afterwards, I popped the stick on a piece of toilet tissue on the vanity, washed my hands and sat there for what felt like an eternity waiting. Soon enough the faintest of lines appeared, I checked again, and again, the line didn't change, it didn't get darker so the little voice in my head told me to try on another of the sticks. I did and again I spotted 2 lines, one, much fainted than the other, but none the less 2 lines, I unlocked the door, grabbed the first stick, ran into the bedroom and jumped on Simon grinning from ear to ear! "WE'RE PREGNANT" I squealed!

The next week was a blur, I was so excited about the baby growing inside me and the wedding to the love of my life I must have been in some kind of crazy love coma, but I know I managed to see the doctor for a blood test to confirm. On the Wednesday before our nuptials my best friend and maid of honour Kate flew in to Canberra, I picked her up from the airport and we headed out to collect my wedding dress, centrepieces and have lunch with my mum. Over lunch I put away a whole plate of chips and a burger, I thought nothing of it but Kate (whos intuition has always been spot on) was shocked that 3 days before my wedding, when I have been so disciplined in my eating to maintain my figure I had eaten hot chips, looked at me like she knew something was up. As we loaded up the car to make our way out to my parents house my phone rang. It was my doctor, I was 6 weeks pregnant! I played it cool, but as we hit the road for the 2 hour car trip I couldn't contain myself and I blurted out "I'M PREGNANT". My mum almost swerved off the road and my best friend who was sitting in the back seat behind me kicked me and said, "you waited till we were in the car to tell us!"

I asked them both to remain tight lipped, Simon and I had both decided that we would tell our families after the wedding and our friends once we had hit 12 weeks.

Then comes MARRIAGE

Simon and I dated for a year long distance. The travelling got tiresome around 5 months in, but by this stage we knew we were head over heels (with my short stauture, I'm 5'4", it was more like head over stilettos) in love. By about 10 months, Simon decided he'd up heave his life on the coast to be with me here in Canberra. It was a big move for both of us. Simon having never lived with a girlfriend, and me cautious after the disasterous break up with my Ex, but we were honest in our expectations and together, very happily we built our future day by day.

On Christmas Eve 2009, Simon gave me the biggest surprise of my life. After discussing marriage for a few months, convinced Simon was just humouring me with his interest Simon took me to the one place I has always mentioned would be perfect for wedding photos. Iandra Castle was about 15 minutes drive from where I grew up and where my parents still live to this day, a small village 30 kilometers out of Young, called Wirrimah.  As he drove past my parents place and towards the castle, my heart raced, but I was unconvienced that my instincts were on target. After walking around the grounds of the castle for a while, I started to feel the bitter sting of dissapointment, but just as we were planning to leave, I headed toward the car and turned back to call to Simon, he was on bended knee, holding out my great great grandmothers engagment ring. I don't remember what I said, but I know that it took Simon a second time to ask me before I actually said yes.

Planning our wedding was amazing. We were married in the rose gardens of my parents' neighbours property in front of 80 of our closest friends and family.

It was the most perfect day of my life, that is until the 30th of May 2011 when our son was born.

First comes LOVE, then comes MARRIAGE, then comes mummy pushing a BABY CARRIAGE

5 years ago, if you had told me that I would have married my first love, (amoungst other things), I would have said you were dreaming. If you had told me that 8 months after marrying him we'd have a baby boy, I'd have said you were crazy, and if you had told me that 10 months following that I'd be back at work full time, looking at buying our first family home and starting to chart to concieve our second child I would have had you committed to a mental institution, but that's exactly what happened.

 Hi, I'm Helene, I'm 27, going on 28, and  I live and work in the Australian Capital Teritory. This is the first blog of what I hope to be many, on love, trying to concieve and carry baby #2 and balancing work and mummy-hood.

First Comes LOVE:

In 2006 I graduated from Charlse Sturt University, moved to Canberra with my then boyfriend (the douchebag) and successfully applied for a position at the Australian Institute of Sport. I thought this was it, I thought this was where my life began. I soon realised that I wasn't happy, my relationship was going no where and my boyfriend had no plans to live a grown up life. In 2008 I left the douchebag, bought my own place and fell back in love with my high school sweetheart.

The story of how we reconnected after 8 years apart is one I'm sure our children will cringe over. It was the age of MySpace, before Facebook made it big, and well before Twitter was the in thing. My old high school flame 'friended' me and from there a plethora of flirty comments and messages evolved and we decided that we should "catch up" in person. It was just like high school, we were nervous and after spending the day together didn't quite know how to go our seperate ways. In a move that he will never live down as I went in for the kiss goodbye on the lips, he puckered up and kissed my forehead..... my forehead, what was that supposed to mean?

After a week of umming and ahhing about whether I should bring up the kiss I bit the bullet and decided to see him again and make my intentions clear. He lived 2 1/2 hours from Canberra so I made the trip down to Shellharbour, packed an over night bag, (just in case), and as he greeted me I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him. From there the rest is history.