Amelia Rose

Beautiful Amelia Rose was born June 20th 2012.  A perfect midsummer baby.  Here is the story of her birth.

Just like her sister, Amelia was running late.  In the last few days before her birth I felt mild cramps each evening and would go to bed excited and apprehensive, but would wake up in the morning still at home, still pregnant and feeling as healthy and comfortable as can be expected.  However on the 20th the mild cramps persisted all day.  I was feeling warily hopeful that this might be it, but unsure I suggested that Jon take Lilli to the playground and market while I made supper. True labour contractions started when I was cooking pasta and dinner was made with plenty of rests while I bent myself double, gripping the kitchen counter waiting for a contraction to pass.  Pete was called home, Lilli was fed and put to bed and we prepared to go to the hospital.  Though painful and strong and regular we stayed at home until 8pm.  Then I knew it was time to go.  My timing was perfect.  On route to the hospital the contractions became more intense and my breathing  changed to reflect the increase pain.  We encountered my midwife while losing ourselves in the hospital corridors.  "I was wondering what had happened to you" she kindly told me, since we had called in around 6pm.  She pointed us in the right direction.

I was happy to discover that I was already 5cm dilated.  Over the next two hours I struggled through increasingly painful contractions, trying to breathe, trying to stop wailing when the contraction was over.  My midwife didn't seem to be interested in checking how dilated I was.
"You'll know when you are ready to push" she told me.
"I didn't get that feeling with Lilli" I worriedly replied.
But that very next contraction I felt an intense desire to push.  I was 10cm dilated and ready to go.

We quickly arranged ourselves, the bed stepped into two levels with Jon above me balancing on a birthing ball while I squatted on the lower half of the bed between his legs.  With Jon supporting me and my midwife telling me to groan, almost growl, in a low pitch, I pushed hard.  I knew what to do this time and 10 minutes later, along with my waters breaking, was born Amelia.

It was wonderful how I could hold her and keep her close to me.  Feel her tiny soft naked body against me.  Gaze at her scrunched up face and miniature fingers and toes.  Those wonderful first hours with Lilli were stolen from me due to my hemorrhage.  I feel so lucky, and relieved, that didn't happen again.  Those first moments are truly precious. Welcome lovely Amelia to our family.

A Three Year Old

My little Lilli is not so little these days.  She has turned a whopping 3 years old and has the attitude to match.  "I can do it" is the current mantra. I cherish this fierce independence and encourage it, but find that I can never seem to get it quite right!  Though I am sure this will never change and I should better become accustomed to this now.  I suggest she puts her shoes on and she whines for me to do it.  I automatically help her wash her hands and find myself rudely pushed away.  My kisses and cuddles are rejected or rescheduled.  "You can kiss me after quiet time" I'm told.  Or "only kiss my leg" I'm admonished when I move in to plant a smacker on her lips.  Not long into her threes Lilli developed a water-shooting super-hero persona who fiercely brandishes various sticks at anyone and everything.  This aggressive streak continues when things don't go quite the way she planned and mother abuse is unfortunately quite common.  I'm pushed, smacked and kicked.  Yes, I am the dog.  Is this a common 3 year old trait?  Or is a reaction to the arrival of her baby sister, Amelia.  I suspect a little of both.

When she is not infuriated with sharing my attention, this super-hero is super helpful, kind, talkative, caring and sensitive.  Lilli is a master story teller and shares her stories with us at supper and in the bath.  They all seem to end with poop.  Her teddies and toys all have roles in her elaborate imaginary play carried out while sitting on the potty in front of her dolls house.  She relishes dirty talk.  She cackles loudly at her own jokes.  She prances naked around the living room to Tchaikovsky and cries with laughter when watching her wiggling bottom on video.  She is a riot and so much fun to be with.  So long as I'm not playing Thomas the Tank engine.  That has become a little old for me!

One of the wonderful things about spending time with a three year old is getting down to their level and seeing the world anew, though their curious eyes.  Why is a constant question and sometimes the most simple ones are the hardest to answer.  "Mummy, why is the moon white?" "Mummy, will I grow out of my skin?" During bedtime lullabies after minutes of silence, she will suddenly interrupt with a query that comes out of nowhere or relates to an incident that happened days or months ago.  "Mummy, when we move to a new house will I get a new bed?"  "Mummy, remember that picture on the wall of the bedroom?  In that house we stayed in with Granny."  She looks at the world in a very practical and logical way.  Her observations make perfect sense.  Such as the time when I was pregnant, she asked me to open my mouth wide and peered intently down my throat.  She told me she was trying to see the baby.

The other day I was driving home from the grocery store.  Just as I pulled out of the car park Lilli announced from her car seat:
"Mummy, you didn't remember the eggs!"
She was right.  I had forgotten the eggs, despite Jon's reminder earlier in the morning.  I was astounded that she remembered (a little late unfortunately!).
"Oh no!  You're right.  I did forgot the eggs.  Oh shoot.  Do you think Daddy will be angry with me?" or something along those lines ...
"Yes" she responded with glee!
"Do you think Daddy will shout at me?"
Giggling with delight and relish at my misfortune "Yes!"
As we push through the front door laden with shopping bags she rushes to tell her Daddy all about the forgotten eggs.