Dear Cooper..... I can't believe you are 2!

My 2 year old

Dear Cooper,

Happy birthday to my tenacious, vibrant, mischievous two year old. Wow how time has flown. You just keep growing bigger and bigger, you never stop eating and I swear by the time you are a teenager I won't be able to afford to feed you!

You continue to light up our lives, you are smart and bold and sometimes very naughty, but even then it doesn't take long for you to do or say something so cute we can't help but to forgive you. You still bring us so much joy and make us so proud. You are growing into such an independent little man, always wanting to try new things and sometimes very stubbornly on your own. Your imagination is starting to run wild and I love hearing some of the stories you make up while you play.

I know that you will not remember these first few years, but I want you to know the fun we had, the love we have for you and the time we devoted to making you feel important and valued, especially when your sister arrived.

We still count our blessing everyday that you are here, that you are healthy and happy. You inspire us to be the best parents we can, you are an amazing little man and I know that in the years ahead you will continue to surprise us with the things you can do!

We love you, you will always be our special little man! Happy birthday darling. xoxox

Love your Mummy & Daddy


Weight: ~15 kilos
Height: 94cm (and if the old way of measuring is right it's predicted you'll be 6ft 2" as an adult)
Number of Teeth: 16
Best Friends: Vin, Finn and Archie
Favourite toy: trucks and cars (nothing specific - just all forms of transport in general)
You love to: dance, run, climb, sing songs and get into all kinds of trouble
You hate: broccoli, nappy changes, brushing your teeth and taking a nap
You can: count to 10, name most colours, sing your ABC's (albeit you kind of skip the LMNO part and just babble there) and put your shoes and socks on by yourself
Your favourite food: Is sauce a food?
Your biggest adventure this past year: Swimming with Dolphins in Hawaii

The construction themed party was a big hit!

Great Expectations

So today I ventured out on my own while Simon watched the kids for 30 mins. While out I ran into a male friend from work who was shocked I was out without the bub and was full of nothing but praise for Simon for being home with both of them. That left me wondering, why  does society do that? Why I'm a horrible mother when I leave my baby at home with my husband so I can run errands, and why is my husband all of a sudden a hero for looking after 2 kids alone?! My husband is my partner, these children carry 50% of his DNA and he is 100% capable of helping raise them..... and for doing so he doesn't need a medal!

Why when a Dad attends a preschool recital or school assembly is he a "devoted and amazing dad" but a mum misses one single athletics carnival and she's labelled a bad mother, too career focused or that she doesn't care?

Why if Simon takes the tandem pram out with our two kiddos or simply pushes it around while I duck into a shop does he get looks of admiration or comments like "what a great dad"or "where is mum?" However when I'm baby wearing my daughter, while pushing a shopping trolley full of groceries with my son in tow I only get looks of disgust if one of them is crying or misbehaving. Where's my medal for managing such a task?

How come mums who stay at home to raise their children  are "wasting" their lives but those who go back to work are made to feel guilty about it?  It is such a double standard!

I don't understand society, I don't understand why women don't praise other women more often for whatever decision they make as a parent.

I want to put it out there - to all the mummy's I know, you are all amazing! to be able to stay at home and raise your children is A-MAZING, to head back to work and still manage to have time for your children is A-MAZING, to battle the shopping centre or grocery store with kids in tow is A-MAZING!

YES praise your husbands and partners for being hands on dads, it is lovely to see a father with his children, but don't sell yourselves short mammas, don't be made to feel guilty for the choices you make as a mother, you are doing the very best you can 100% of the time and its about time society recognises that.

My amazing husband is a great dad, but that doesn't mean I'm not just as great!

Mummy Guilt

It's a horrible feeling when you realise that you no longer have the time to devote your unwavering attention to your first born, but not only that; that you can't give the same kind of attention to your new born.

Mummy Guilt, I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels it. It's when I see my beautiful boy lashing out because his world has been turned upside down by this tiny new addition to the family, where when he calls out for me in the night and gets daddy instead and when after two years of nothing but him his mums attention had to be divided in two. It's not just that though that causes so much guilt and pain for second time mums, it's looking at my gorgeous new baby girl and realising that she will never had the same kind of uninterrupted one on one bonding time that her older brother had with me, that she will inevitably grow up with hand me downs and far less extravagant gifts. I can't imagine how bad you would feel about these issues if you had a third.

Then of course there's the guilt for the lack of attention, affection, time and/or all three that your husband or partner is currently receiving. It's enough to make even the most confident of mums feel emotional and awful.

I suppose the good news to second times mums is that eventually this guilt passes, and it doesn't take too long. I think once your first child adjusts and you find a bit of a routine (if there is such a thing second time around) things become "normal" and you just do what you have to do each day to get through.

If the guilt doesn't pass, I would encourage you to speak to your GP or a MACH nurse at your next appointment, as it may be a sign that you are suffering for post partum depression.

As my husband would say... "It's go time"

At 39 weeks 3 days I had had enough. I was over the reflux, I was over the weight, I was over the insomnia and I was over the false alarms. At 39 weeks 3 days I decided that a few old wives tales couldn't hurt, my mum was down visiting so I took the opportunity to make plans with Simon to go out to dinner and follow it with a movie (much like we had the night we went into labour with Cooper) - I knew it was a long shot, but it was worth a try, after all it had worked once before. We dined on Indian, the hot variety, and saw the latest Tom Cruise movie (Oblivion) ~ I don't much like Tom Cruise post Mission Impossible days, and to be honest this movie was about as good as Vanilla Sky.... I don't recommend it, but I digress. Unlike that night during my pregnancy with Cooper I did not go into labour immediately after settling into bed for the night, in fact I actually managed my first uninterrupted nights sleep in what seemed an eternity.

The next morning, the 24th of April 2013, at around 5am I woke when Simon got up to get ready for work and felt a bit off (I assumed it was the Indian food). I got up, went to the bathroom and cozied back up in bed. It was then that the cramping began and I cursed what I was convinced was going to be another false alarm. At 7am I got up and started my day as usual, it was a Wednesday which meant Cooper needed to go to day care and I had the day to myself. My mum had organised a lunch with my soon to be sister in law (who is also expecting - just a few weeks behind me) and I had decided to tag along. The cramps had persisted through the morning, just as mild period like pain and I thought that embarking on a walk may do one of two things: 1) it would establish the labour or 2) it would cause the cramps to stop. So my mum, future sister in law and I walked about 3 kilometres to a little cafe for lunch. By the time we'd reached the cafe the cramps were more intense and I suffered in silence through lunch. When mum suggested we then quickly duck into the shopping complex across the road I knew I was in trouble, my mum never "ducks quickly" into shopping malls and we still had to walk back home.

Ironically we were in 'Babies R Us' when the contractions got so intense I could no longer mask them as a simple pregnancy discomfort, I started swaying, and in a mother knows all fashion, my mum declared I was in labour and insisted I call Simon to collect me. As I hurried out of the shop, everyone else had decided I was in labour also rushing to my assistance. I got into the car and quickly made myself comfortable at home. Still not convinced entirely that this was the real deal I called my hospital and asked them if I could come in to be assessed.

We arrived at the hospital at 2pm, I was seen immediately and at -2 station and 3cm with contractions 7 mins apart sent home. Mum was at home when we got back and I decided that if in fact today was the day I should probably clean myself up a bit. I showered, shaved my legs un-coordinately, washed my hair and why I still don't know, but I then proceeded to put on a full face of make up. I then sat in my bedroom rocking on a fit ball with my Ipod playing in a bid to feel more comfortable and distract me from the pain as I timed the contractions, now 5mins apart last for about 30-40 seconds.

It was now, for some idiotic reason I told Simon he should go and pick Cooper up from day care. It was a stupid thing to do, especially given both my brother, his fiance and my mum were all capable of doing it. In the 40 mins my dear husband was gone, my contractions went through the roof, I was no longer able to talk through them, I couldn't walk them off and I was desperately ringing Simon unsuccessfully to get home as soon as possible. I then called my mid wife and told her we were headed in.

We arrived at the hospital at 5:30pm, my mid wife was already there and waiting. They showed me to my room and I got comfortable kneeling over the bed and having Simon massage my back. The attending mid wife them came in and took some vitals and asked if I wanted to be checked for progress, to which I declined. After the length of Coopers labour I didn't want to be disheartened by hearing I was only at a measly 4cm.

It was 6:15pm when I requested the fit ball and the shower. It's the strangest thing - throughout my 38 and a half weeks pregnancy I knew the time would come for my mid wife to see me at least semi naked (I mean for goodness sake she was going to deliver my daughter and there's only 1 way she was entering the world!) but in some weird modest way it felt extremely odd to strip down, 100% exposed and have her hold the shower head over my lower back and rub it as she did it.... eventually though the relief from the warm water was so great that I no longer cared at all. She encouraged me to breath through each contraction and I stayed under the shower for a little over an hour before I felt this sudden shift in pressure and pain. It was at this point I really wanted the epidural, but my mid wife stayed firm and encouraged me to keep going, insisting that this was the birth I had wanted and that I could do it.

I was then checked for progress at 7:40pm, I was at 7cm and heading into transition - I realised even if I had wanted the epi, it was now too late and I was on my own. I headed back to the shower and within a mere 10 contractions my waters broke, 3 contractions later I was calling to the midwife "she's coming" while grimacing through the pain. I was shaking, my body was convulsing with each contraction and I had no control over needing to push. My mid wife got the attending nurse who insisted she was not coming, but rather my membranes were rupturing, I told her repeatedly that she was coming and that my membranes had already ruptured in the shower (when I talk to new mums to be, and they ask how do you know when to push..... to that I say if you "think"you have to push.... YOU DON'T, which is where I went wrong with Coopers birth. Truth is when you HAVE to push you have no control, in fact not pushing is not an option, so to the midwife who was so calmly claiming it was not in fact time to push, I say pish posh!). I insisted I be moved to the bed. It didn't take long before I was kneeling on the bed and pushing through each contraction, in fact I only just scrambled onto the bed before pushing her pink, wet, crying, perfect little body into the world at 8.07pm. I don't remember the intense pain of her crowning in comparison to Cooper, but her measurements for head circumference we identical, yet she was 500 grams lighter and 5 cm shorter in length. I was in love all over again as I pulled her between my legs and onto my chest. Words cannot describe her, she is my personal piece of perfect.

Zoe Deborah Ann Rushby - a mere few minutes old

The Home Stretch - 20 weeks to the delivery suite

I think my pregnancy glow last about 6 weeks. It didn't take long after the new year rang in for the heartburn, acid reflux and delightful pregnancy insomnia to encroach on what I really had wanted to be an event free third trimester. I'd lye away each night from 2am to 6am wishing i could fall back to sleep only to fail miserably and find myself sitting in front of mind numbing infomercials on TV for hours on end. It made attending work in a joyous spirit near impossible and it made my poor husband shudder at the thought of coming home for the evening.

By 28 weeks I'd finished the nursery (one benefit to sleepless nights.... which also reminds me that i should post about how great Cooper is doing in his new 'big boy"bed and room). Baby girls nursery looked like someone had vomited pink frills and lace all over it. I'd try to keep in colour scheme with the already existing pale greens and browns used for when Cooper was born, but the pink certainly was excessive. I had managed to find a complete bedding set on eBay, a cheeky little monkey themed set which worked perfectly, I then scrolled Pinterest for wall art ideas that I could easily make on my own and DIY projects that would just complete the room. One such project was wall papering a cheap old stand alone wardrobe - as it turns out the cost and time it took to wall paper it could have been better spent just buying a nicer one, but in the end the finished product looked amazing and helped make the room come together.

At 30 weeks we suffered a scare. I had managed to pick up some sort of tummy bug and spent 2 days trying to hold down meals and water. It was the start of the 3rd day when the cramping began and didn't stop and I decided that I should check in at the maternity ward to be assessed. As a result of the constant throwing I was in pre-term labour and was quickly sent off to have some injections to stop the contractions. The problem with the injections is that they can cause your blood pressure to drop, and as I normally have quite low blood pressure (100 / 60) I was only allowed two injections before it became to risky and as such I was also given some steroids to help develop the babies lungs should the contractions not cease and I had to delivery my baby girl. 12 hours after the 2nd injection the contractions had stopped, I spent the next 36 hours in hospital being monitored but was able to go home and resume normality again but was told to take it easy (not something I do well unfortunately).

From there things sailed somewhat less comfortably, the reflux persisted and worsened, the insomnia did not improve and the already crowded space that was my uterus seemed not to want to grow along with my growing baby, resulting in two tiny feet under my rib cage, a small bony bottom pushed against my stomach and a skull wedged firmly between my pelvic bones and resting on my cervix. I was the kind of uncomfortable at 36 weeks that I was at 39 with Cooper, the kind that contemplates the old wives tales for induction, but knows better than to rush an unborn baby into the world for fear of complications or healthy problems.

At 37 weeks I went to bed one night with some mild cramping that started in my lower back and radiated through to my lower abdominal, I thought nothing of it at the start, but as the night progressed so did the intensity. I anxiously spent the next 7 hours timing the contractions, only to have them fizzle out at around 6am. This happened a few more times through out my 37th week and all I could think was my uterus does not need any more practise, it's done it once, surely it can just draw on it's own previous experience when the time comes.

I was extremely fortunate this pregnancy to be assigned a 3rd year student mid wife, this meant that every appointment and every false alarm I had her to guide me through. I think it's called continuity of care and it was wonderful. It was around this time that I started thinking about labour, and what I could remember from Coopers birth. I remember it being painful, I remember begging for an epidural(that I had to let wear off),I remember the epidural making me a little loopy, unbalanced and incoherent at times and then I remember him being placed onto my chest after 21 hours of labour and feeling totally overwhelmed. I wanted this time to be different, I wanted the mid wife to be 100% on my page and able to talk me through the pain, I wanted her to enforce the birth plan I had set (which mind you was far more fluid than that of Coopers), I wanted her to be strong when Simon couldn't.

This time I wanted a drug free birth.

Old wives tales and our Baby Girl

So it's been a while since my last post. Life has been busy, the festive season always seems to send time spinning out of control, but this last month and a half has been crazy.

At around week 17 I finally felt our little baby wriggle, and by week 19 bub was getting in some very good kicking practise. It was around this time as well that i started to feel like a beautiful pregnant woman. I felt like I was well rested (no more constant toilet breaks during the night), full of energy (although starting to feel a bit breathless as I walked the 46 stairs it takes to get to my office) and absolutely glowing (perhaps it was the extra fat I was storing filling out my face that was creating that look). It was also around this time  that I decided we would move Cooper out of his cot and nursery and into his big boy bed and room so I could start on recreating the nursery for the new addition. More on both Coopers transition into his new room and the new nursery later.

Simon and I had been at loggerheads in regards to finding out what we were having this time, and he blatantly refused to discuss names with me until we'd reached 20 weeks. I argued that he got to decide that we kept it a secret when we were pregnant with Cooper so as ultrasound day approached I dug my heels in and got my way, after all I wanted to go all out on the nursery once we knew. I knew in the end it didn't matter what we were having, as long as it was human (obviously), healthy and ours I knew we would love it to the moon and back. Secretly (well maybe not so secretly) I wanted a girl, Simon was convinced this would be our last baby (I was not as sure as he was), but as the ultrasound day grew closer and I spent more time watching Cooper play with his little mates from daycare and mothers group I realised having a second little boy would be just so special.

In hindsight I can say that my reasons for initially hoping for a girl were selfish. I dreamt of being mother of the bride, creating the same close relationship my mother and I have and just being able to sweep in as maternal grandma to my grandbabies just like my mum does with Cooper and not having to suffer through what I'm sure a lot of mother in laws do when a grandbaby arrives. I also hated the thought of having two daughters in law, who no doubtingly would replace me as my sons #1 girls when the time came.

It was the 9th of the December at 9:30am. Simon managed to get out of work for an hour or so to join me at the ultrasound. Having been through a morphology scan before I knew it was going to take around 45 mins and decided it might be best to leave Cooper with a friend rather than have him squirm and create havoc in our appointment. I also knew this was a bad idea because Simon and I had decided that besides our best friends we were keeping the gender a secret until Christmas day, which meant I needed to have my very best poker face on when I picked Cooper up after the scan.

As usual the technician scanned through all the most vital organs, checking and double checking. Our baby was perfect and when the time came for the technician to tell us what we were having I realised that I didn't care in the slightest about being a monster in law or mother the the groom twice, I looked at Simon and questioned whether we should still find out. He hardly had time to answer when the technician announced our baby was a precious little girl. I started sobbing. I knew I would have be ecstatic with another boy, but a baby girl, a daughter, and a little sister for Cooper was just too perfect and all I could think is that I had been blessed.

After the scan I sent a text immediately to my best friend, the excitement and joy was uncontainable and I knew there was no way I would be able to pick up Cooper without letting on. Fortunately Cooper was with a friend I could trust (well duh, she was minding my first born after all) and when I walked in and saw her I started to tear up again, "I'm going to have a daughter" and that was it I had let the cat out of the bag and she was sworn to secrecy until we announced it officially on Christmas day!

With the technician so confident of a little girl, I thought it would be fun to test out some old wives tales. We all know of them, fun little facts that supposedly can tell you if you are having a boy or a girl. Well here were my results:

Heart Beat - how it works: Old wives tales claim that in the first trimester a little girls heart beat will be faster than 140 beats per minute, while a boy will always be less than that. My result: GIRL - the heartbeat always sat around 160bpm for the first 3 months of this pregnancy.

Sweet V savoury - how it works: Old wives tales claim that cravings for certain foods can determine a baby's gender. Sweet = Girl, Savoury = Boy. What's the saying sugar and spice and all things nice? Well given all I can think about is chocolate and sugar I'd say my result on this is a GIRL.

Chinese Gender Charts: how it works: This chart uses your lunar age and the lunar month at the time of conception to predict whether you will have a son or daughter. The Chinese claim it is 99% accurate but for me my result revealed a BOY - so I guess I was one of the 1% that it didn't work for.

The Mayan gender chart: how it works: it's similar to the Chinese chart, only the Mayans determined the sex of the baby by taking the mother's age at conception, and the year of conception. If both are even or both are odd...it's a girl. If one is even and one odd it's a boy. Well they wrongfully predicted the world was going to end on the 21st of December 2012, but they got the gender right. My result: GIRL.

The Ring Test: how it works: you take a short length of string, thread your wedding band through it and drop it over your belly button, if it swings around in a circle you are pregnant with a boy, if it swings back and forth a girl. My result GIRL.

Morning Sickness: how it works: apparently the sicker you are the more chance you have of being pregnant with a girl. Well in comparison to my pregnancy with Cooper I was a thousand times sicker. My result GIRL.

Well it seems those old wives may have been on to something :)