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 :)

How did I become a mum?

You know as this new little miracle grows in my womb I start to think back on those early days with Cooper and I start to panic..... I don’t remember anything I did, what did my routine look like? How did I manage to know what he needed and when and how in God’s name did I stay on top of the housework?

How did I know that Cooper had wind, reflux, teething, was eating enough or was hot, cold or slightly constipated? How do you go from having held a baby only a few times in your life to knowing exactly what to do the moment he or she is placed in your arms for the very first time, with absolutely no fear?

The truth is the mother instinct is so strong in some that you just know. For me I felt like I had been a mother for years after the first week of Cooper life. I didn’t remember what it was like not to have him to care for or love, and that was OK by me, because once I held him in my arms I knew my life before he had been born was not whole.

 I remember taking him to the Doctors and being told by 3 separate Doctors on 3 separate days that he did not have a chest infection, but I persisted until finally someone agreed, I remember saying “I do not care that my son seems happy enough right now, he is not himself, he is extremely unwell and he needs medical attention”, and what do you know we spent the night in hospital with suspected pneumonia.  Its true mother does know best and don’t ever let anyone tell you any different. No doubt I have had help along the way, I have leaned on both my mother and mother-in-law for advice and having such a wonderful mothers group has been a blessing in the weeks where I didn’t think I could cope any longer, but in essence I have always done what I thought was the right thing to do based on pure gut instinct.

So now I stop to think, it doesn’t matter how many books you read, how hard you try to remember what you did last time, or how many mothers you speak to, Motherhood comes naturally, as you’ve read for me this was the case with Cooper and suddenly all the fears I have about not remembering what I need to do once this little one arrives have flown away and I know I will be the best mum I know how to be, just like I did the first time.

Rushby number 2 @ 13 weeks

nausea, nausea and more nausea, oh and throw in a side of exhuastion

It's early on in my pregnancy..... The very thought of food makes me want to throw up. The smell of it cooking, the taste, even the mere look of it is enough to make my stomach churn. I don't remember it ever being this bad when I was pregnant with Coops, and I certainly don't remember the need to actually throw up.

This time around everything seems different (in a harder kind of way), morning sickness struck early at 4 weeks 3 days, and from 7 weeks I started throwing up, not in the morning mind you (I bet my life savings that a man came up with the term morning sickness), it was evening sickness and it would strike anywhere after 2pm. It wasn't just the throwing up that seemed worse this time around either, I don't know if it is because I have Cooper to chase around after each day at work or if it is just worse this time around, but come the end of the day and I could fall asleep wherever I lay my head, literally; In the bath, at the table, on the floor or in front of the computer.

These things combined resulted in unproductivity around the house that rivalled the laziest of housewives, and my dearest hubby was left washing clothes, scrubbing vomit encrusted porcelain in the bathroom, vacuuming floors and feeding and bathing Cooper most nights. I felt bad for Simon, but mostly I was just thankful, being this sick was no fun and nothing I did would make it better. I tried every old wives tale, ginger tea and biscuits, nibbling on a dry piece of toast before getting out of bed in the morning, small frequent meals, nothing helped, I was doomed to be ill and exhausted forever!

They say only girls can make you feel this ill during pregnancy, they say that a baby girl sucks all the beauty and energy from their mother for themselves during that first trimester, I know only time will tell, but right now I'm thinking I'm going to have the words most energetic and beautiful girl welcomed into this world around April 27th 2013 because I don't remember ever looking or feeling as bad as I do right now!

Both my parents and in-laws have been wonderful these first few weeks, coming down to visit, entertaining Cooper while I take a much needed nap and helping with some housework Simon is not so great at, washing windows, mopping floors and scrubbing skirting boards and removing sticky finger prints from cupboard doors, walls and table legs.

It's now been 13 weeks and 4 days and although the exhaustion seems to have subsided, the nausea is still kicking my butt - however with the start of the second trimester comes a new optimism, I'm sure things are on the up, I just can't wait to get there!!!

and a baby makes 4....

I decided that I had indeed taken things too far in my TTC journey when I realised I was planning tomorrow nights romp in my head as I lay in bed post coitus with my feet up in the air in the hope that gravity would help me fall pregnant. Or, when my hard working husband cracked a beer open and I bit his head off because his swimmers would be drunk that night, I was indeed completely irrational. It was time to step back from Dr Google and put down all the books and information and just wait and see.

I thought about discarding my OPKs and charting and just doing it the old fashioned way, by humping it out as often as my husband could take,  but the control freak in me just couldn't. It's in my obsessive compulsive nature that I am organised and informed and the thought of leaving it to chance and missing my most fertile window kept me testing and temping.

Telling people you're trying.

As I'm sure many women will attest, the responses after telling family or friends you've been unsuccessfully trying are hard to take. Most will firstly tell you to "relax and it'll happen", and it's with a response like this that I have to restrain myself from punching them in the mouth. The other response is something like "Well, at least you have one child. Lots of people don't even have that". They are right, I do have one beautiful baby boy, we are incredibly lucky to have been blessed with him. I am thankful everyday for him. I am also aware that in the big scheme of things trying for a few months unsuccessfully is not a big deal, but the idea of only having one child was heartbreaking. To think that we would never have a sibling for Cooper ripped my heart out, hopefully that will never be a reality, but those thoughts as irrational as they may seem will always creep into my head the second I see a negative test.


It's a funny thing - with a first pregnancy it's all very secret, very few people tell anyone that they are trying the first time around, not to mention the 12 week wait to announce it all. The second time around however it seems far less secretive or private and it's easy to talk about with your closest, most non-judgemental friends. In fact, I honestly believe if you can trust you friends enough to confide in them without feeling that overwhelming pressure telling your families may bring it can be a huge relief when you find that you are struggling and need a shoulder to cry on for support.

Could it be Positive???????

It was cycle 5. We'd been given the all clear from my Doctor 2 weeks after my surgery to try again. We weren't expecting much this month, given all that had happened I was almost certain we wouldn't fall pregnant until after our trip to Hawaii (two months away). Simon played his last game of football for the season on Saturday the 25th of August, after a terrible season and a terrible month and a half I decided that I was going to go out and enjoy a few drinks (having not had a drink for so long I can't even remember) with my Hubby after the game. My conscience told me the responsible thing to do was to take a pregnancy test just for peace of mind. Simon was still in bed and as I tested and I had no intention of waking him to see a negative result. After I washed my face I looked down at the test, was that a second line? I stared at the test, holding it so close I could smell the urine. There was a second line. I screamed and told Simon to get up, he didn't, just replying "what?" I begged him to get up to look at the test, he looked at me and told me to calm down and bring the test to him. I was shaking, I could not believe there was a second line there. Simon looked at the test saying it is very faint ..... he didn't understand the concept of a line being a line, and kept telling me not to get my hopes up and that he would reserve all excitement until a doctor had confirmed it - how I loved my level headed husband, but as the line got darker I could see the hope in his eyes. To get a second opinion I took a picture of the test and sent it to my best friend - and her simple reply of "yep your pregnant" brought on another wave of tears!

Still shaking I get Cooper up, get him dressed and head to the chemist up the road to get more tests. I took seven tests in all ($47.00 worth in total), all revealing positive.... I sat down and cried, I could not be happier and once I composed myself I called my doctor and he agreed to see me straight away given my recent complications and past thyroid results.

I think my doctor was almost as excited as I was, he was very quick to congratulate me and told me there was no point in confirming it with a blood test seeing as though all seven tests were clearly positive, but took blood to run all the normal pregnancy related tests and to double check on my thyroid activity.

The next 3 days took forever, just waiting for the test results and in the end, and in true Helene and impatient fashion I called him. It was good, no wait, it was GREAT news. All my blood work came back clear and my thyroid levels were completely normal. Simon had no choice but to be excited now and I promptly did a little happy dance around the lounge room!

Keeping it secret was hard - I wanted to shout from the roof tops, post all over facebook and call every one of my closest friends - but I didn't, instead we opted to tell our parents and our closest friends but no one else until our ultrasound at 12 weeks. However is his excitement of being a Dad again, Simon couldn't help himself, spilling his guts at work, which meant it wouldn't take long for word to spread through my work place (the down side of working in elite sport in Canberra - everyone knows everyone). In an attempt to save my boss the embarrassment of finding out via the sporting grapevine I decided to confine in him and our administrator.


At what I thought was 12 weeks 3 days I headed off with Hubby and Cooper in tow to meet our new baby. Within moments we were given the news we were actually 13 weeks 3 days along and the baby was perfectly healthy!

The wonderful world of Toddlers

It's been a while since my last entry. It's been a busy month. recovering from surgery, planning a family holiday to Hawaii, work and looking after my family have kept me very occupied! My little baby boy, is now unequivocally, without doubt a cheeky toddler, and a funny little one at that. He is strong willed, bold and has his mothers batty personality. Like me, Cooper has developed some unique idiosyncrasies, including the need to put everything he plays with back exactly where he found it, or when he has finished with his food, he will pick up any little crumbs or left overs and place them back into the bowl so his tray is clean. I'm sure though like many things, that this is just a phase, and soon enough he'll be dropping his clothes, towels and toys on the floor only top be harped on to pick them up and leaving the table with his plate, knife and fork behind for his mum to clear!

It astounds me how quickly toddlers decide that they no longer need their parents to assist them to get things done. Now Cooper is walking, climbing and insisting he feeds himself he need only point at what it is that he wants, grunt or make a sound that sounds something like the name of the object, I get it for him and that's that. Not only that, but just recently he will tell me "no, all done"when he has finished with whatever it is that he was eating or drinking. He cheekily tells me "shoosh" and puts a finger to his lips when  we get ready for a nap  and don't even get me started on the dancing that takes place when we put the iPod on.

It is these moments that make being a mum (or dad) the most precious gift in the world.  There is nothing that can describe the joy that comes with watching your child develop, learn and play, especially when they discover something new that their ilttle bodies are capable of.

Cooper has recently discovered jumping. It's the cutest little site to see. He swings his whole body in a motion with his arms but his feet don't ever leave the ground, whether it be jumping into a pool or just at home around the house - but the grin that follows is priceless.

Development wise I was told recently that  by 18 months old Coopers vocabulary should be somewhere between 10 and 30 words, naturally when I heard this I panicked. Cooper although communicating what he wants well, through pointing and understanding when you ask him to pick up his toys, or bring you a specific book, he does not have 10-30 words. After speaking to Coopers child care educators they assured me Cooper was developing perfectly and that this kind of goal just creates more guilt and panic amongst parents, and it's not like we don't already put enough pressure on ourselves. Cooper, like most boys is a physical little thing, able to catch a ball, throw, kick and run as well as any 2 year old. He has developed his motor skills at a rapid pace and as such I suppose his verbal ability has come in second. Some research suggests that children fall into 1 of 2 categories, physical or verbal early on but eventually even out over the next 2 years. I suppose we will just have to really focus on reading with him if we hope to have 30 words by December!




Cooper and Simon reading a book