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SAHM

I obviously wasn’t always a Stay at Home Mom (SAHM).  I was once a thriving career woman.  By the age of 30 I was an equity partner in a company that I helped establish and develop into an international brand in its field. However, I used to dream about the day I would get married and start a family, and my desire was that I would be able to be SAHM.

I had no idea of the challenges and frustrations that as a SAHM I would have to face.  Try negotiating with an 8 month old. Boss Baby – there has never been a truer term!  Babies are no respecters of schedules or deadlines. I think back to how different my life was back in the business world – always focussing on the bottom line.  I still focus on a bottom, but it’s more poop diapers as opposed to profitability.

The stress. The emails. The spreadsheets.  Don’t get me wrong, there were elements of that life that I thoroughly enjoyed.  That said, the challenges of the business world are completely different to the challenges of being a SAHM, the rewards are also incomparable. I don’t earn the mega bucks anymore – but I get remunerated in cuddles and laughter, and in the honour of getting to witness first hand all my boy’s little developmental milestones.   Back then, on any given morning before 11am there would’ve been strategy meetings and chit-chat around the coffee machine etc.   Now a successful morning means that by 11am, I have managed to shower and get dressed.

Working or Stay at Home – Mom guilt eats at us all, right?  Are we doing enough, giving enough, being enough…

Most days I am awake by 7h00 am, no alarm needed ‘cos by then my little one is wide awake and has already had his morning bottle. If I am not too tired, I can hit the shower before he gets niggly, otherwise if he is already moany it means he is hungry and so it’s off to the kitchen for breakfast.   By 8h30am my baby is fed and dressed, pity I cannot say the same for myself. Chances are that if at any point I’ve made myself coffee, it is left unfinished and probably cold by now. I  have look through my diary and plan some activities. The aim is to try and rid myself of the mom-guilt I would have about my child being cooped up inside the house all the time. Every day there is a constant battle in trusting whether I had done enough with my boy. Have I given him enough of my attention, am I being the best mommy I can be?

After a nice afternoon out, we get home and I let the baby play on the floor while I figure out what I should have for lunch.  I take a seat next to him (on the floor is my new usual spot) and attempt to eat lunch while being happily distracted by my insanely cute little guy. Mom guilt hits again, am I interacting enough with my baby. I grab a book and sit him on my lap so that I can read him a story.  We sing some songs.  Tickles and giggles.  Now it’s time to get baby down for his nap so that I can do some home admin and figure out what’s for dinner. I work my way through the house  – clear the kitchen, pack dishwasher, rinse bottles. I am about to start dinner when I hear the baby – he has only slept for 30 minutes!!!  I defy that little voice in my head that says “screen time is bad”, and I put my boy in front of the TV and play a few ‘little bum nursery rhymes’ to keep him entertained.  As I whip up his dinner I wonder to myself, am I making enough effort to ensure that my boy is getting a well-balanced healthy meal. Does this mom guilt and self-doubt ever go away?

There’s this lovely challenge that we often face – it’s called TIMING.

For someone who is home all day, I sure do struggle with finding time.  For example deciding when to shower or the best time to hang out the laundry, are just some of the tasks that require expert time management skills.  Obviously it’s great if I could get all these things done while baby is asleep, but the reality is I don’t have that much control over when he sleeps or for how long. Trust me, I have tried to work out a schedule but the baby just won’t follow it. The only alternative is to keep him busy long enough to allow me some time to do the non-baby-watching tasks that as a SAHM I need to take care of. So, I sit my  baby safely in his playpen, add some toys and head out to the washing line (or the shower – or dare I say, the toilet). 

This time, considering its laundry day, I head outside. It is so peaceful out there.  I can hear birds chirp and the sun shines warmly on my skin. For a moment I let my mind wonder and I contemplate all the non-baby related things I would like to achieve that day or week. I replay some discussions I had with my husband the night before. Sometimes, I even spend time in conversation with God. All while enjoying the scent of fresh laundry.

I hear a moan over the baby monitor and my thoughts are quickly interrupted – I have to get done and get back inside stat!  

The tribe, the sandpit and the silly bugger who parked me in

The seasons are changing and these might be the last of those lovely sunny (yet chilly) days. I have an impromptu idea to head to the local park so that my boy can get some outside time.  I call a SAHM friend – yay she is free to join us.  Nothing like being part of a tribe of mommies who are home with their little ones.  Once we are at the park its: entertain baby, feed baby, spend a few moments sitting under a tree chatting, let baby play in the sand and then it’s back home.  On the way home, I have mom guilt about the fact that my baby has only now, at 8 months, had his first experience of playing in the sandpit. Seriously! This mom guilt thing is a never ending roller coaster..

We need to make a quick  pit stop at the store.  I hop out and load baby into the trolley.  He looks so cute sitting upright as we quickly go from one isle to the next. When we get back to the car I notice that a very ‘kind hearted person’ has PARKED ME IN.  I cannot open the driver’s door of my car, so I need to climb over the passenger seat.  Are you kidding me?  If it wasn’t for the fact that I had my boy in the back of the car I would’ve waited there to give that person a piece of my mind! Mommy rage is a real thing. 

Feed baby, bath baby, bottle for baby and bed time.

I am going to confess that most nights I cannot wait for bed time.  I love my cutie pie and he is my precious little seedling,  BUT mamma needs some down time. It seems that the mommy-shift only really ends when the baby is asleep for the night.  Yes he might wake up and yes I might need to attend to him, but he might not and I might just be able to relax on the sofa, binge watch The Good Wife and eat chips hahahaha… Fortunately he is a champ at bed time.  By latest 8h30pm he is out and I get to enjoy some chill time with my hubby for as long as I can keep my eyes open.

Later, as I creep into bed next to that warm little body that I once grew inside my belly, I am overwhelmed again by the deep love I have for my son.  I smell his hair and kiss his cheek – softly of course ‘cos I don’t want to wake him.  As I close my eyes, I say a prayer of thankfulness in that I get to be HIS mamma and I get to spend this time with him….

In conclusion SAHM or Working Mom – either way you’ve got to deal with other people’s crap

When I was in the corporate world, working in a team focussed on same vision and goal, I had to deal with a lot of other people’s crap and wrestle with many challenges and frustrations on a daily basis. Now I wrestle a baby to get him to lie still so that I can clean his soiled diaper and, let me tell you this, I will take that crap over the other any day of the week.

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Happy, Healthy and Fed: Part 2

Before I continue with part 2 of my story, let me state that I respect a mother’s right to decide how she wants to feed her baby – if it comes down to it, bottle or boob, fed is best. 

Dear Mom-to-be,
I am sharing this story with you, because I want to encourage you to fight for your ability to breastfeed your baby.

That first night in hospital, seeing my baby under the blue lights and not having my husband with me, had me experiencing many sad emotions. I am sure the postnatal hormones only added my overwhelming sadness – I cried and I cried. The burden that weighed heavily on my heart was the assumption that I was not giving my boy enough sustenance. Most of that night I was on the phone to friends – texting, ranting, crying and praying.  I recall asking a close friend why God would give me breasts if I couldn’t use them to properly feed my baby.  I was really angry at God. Nevertheless, in the midst of my circumstance He showed Himself to be merciful and full of grace.

The next morning another friend called to say she had a sense that she needed to come and see me.  She came to the hospital and brought along her a breast pump and some ‘mommy juice’ that would keep me hydrated and was filled with all the necessary goodness to keep my milk supply on the up.  She also brought along a dummy for my baby. During the night I had to watch and listen to my boy cry because he was unable to self soothe. It was a struggle to put my arms through those incubator holes to try and soothe him. Fortunately the second I slipped that dummy into his mouth, he was calm. 

I immediately attempted to express milk with the breast pump. I wanted to see exactly how much milk I had. Now I know that there is another ‘rule’ that suggests one should not express milk before 6 weeks as this will confuse your milk supply.  I understand that fully – but it was not my intention to exclusively express going forward. I just wanted to give my baby MY MILK for his top up feeds, instead of formula. To my amazement, I could get 10ml of milk.  That doesn’t sound like a lot, but that was all my baby needed for top up feeds. 

Later that day a lactation consultant arrived and I showed her how I was positioning my baby and how he was latching.  She was wonderful. She  gave me a few pointers on where to adjust my position and encouraged me to keep practising.  She also encouraged me to use the shield if it make me feel more comfortable. As long as the baby was feeding.  (You see, both you and your baby have to learn to breastfeed.  We see moms who breastfeed with ease, but the truth is as easy as it looks and as natural as it seems, it can take a while to be perfected. Babies can sometimes forget how from one latch to the next.  Also we are conditioned to watch the clock, but babies don’t know about clocks.  They just want to be close to the good stuff.)  What worked for me is feeding my baby every three hours max, unless he showed signs (any sign) of wanting something sooner.  I found a balance between watching my baby and watching the clock – that worked for my personality and it ensured that my baby was getting milk regularly.

For the rest of my stay in the paediatric ward I would express some milk, then try latch him at feeding time (using the shield) and then give him a top up.  I stopped allowing the nurses in to feed my baby with formula. I would keep record and update them as to when he was on my breast and when I gave him his top up feed.  I would express into a bottle and then use a syringe to draw in the milk and drop it into his mouth.  It worked.  He gained weight.  His billirubin count came down beautifully and the next day we went home!!!  I continued to use the nipple shield for every feed thereafter.  Gradually, during the feeds, I would remove the shield and my boy would happily continue to feed on me. Yes we had hits and misses, but I fought for the ability to feed my baby the way I had hoped to.  By the time we reached our six week mark we no longer needed the shield.

The testimony in my story is that my exclusively breast fed boy picked up so much weight that many started joking that I was producing condensed milk. I went from feeling that I couldn’t do it – to seeing just go well I could. At about  5 months of age our little guy was weighing 9.16kgs… and completely healthy.  What a miracle!!   Our son is now 8 months old and I am no longer breastfeeding. I started phasing in formula around 6, so I am not one of those moms that just kept going . I needed to make the transition and I think that, all things considered, I had done damn well keeping him ‘on the boob’ for so long.  

So, again, to anyone who is about to welcome their new baby and wants to breastfeed, know that sometimes you FIGHT FOR IT! Breastfeeding is not always easy – but one of the most amazing and beautiful things that you can share with your baby.  That said – I still stand by my earlier the statement that FED is best.  Good luck mamma!!

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Happy, Healthy and Fed: Part 1

The last thing a new mommy thinks about, is her baby having to go back into hospital when he is just 5 days old…..

The first few days after our baby was born were filled with skin-on-skin snuggles, long naps to recover from the birth (they don’t call it labour for nothing) and getting the handle on breastfeeding. During my pregnancy I would dream about breastfeeding my child – literally.  It was a strong desire of my heart and I was so excited to be able to share in that bonding experience with my baby.

Like any mom who has done research on breastfeeding (and for those who haven’t yet here is the crux of it), I knew that the first few days was all about the “liquid gold” Colostrum. The body produces it immediately after giving birth and it is nutrient rich, full of anti-bodies and loaded with everything the baby needs in those early days.  A mommy’s milk supply usually only comes in around day three, day four after birth.  For me, those first few days of breastfeeding felt a bit clumsy, but my boy seemed to be getting the colostrum.  The tell-tale signs, I was told, was that he was producing enough wet and dirty diapers.  However, before we left the hospital, we noticed that he started to looked a little yellow. His bilirubin count was marginally high causing the slight yellow tint (jaundice), but we were told it was normal and generally speaking it should sort itself out.  So we left the hospital and looked forward to settling in at home.

“What Causes Newborn Jaundice?

Jaundice typically occurs because newborns normally produce increased levels of bilirubin. Bilirubin, which is yellowish in color, is produced when red blood cells are broken down. Bilirubin is removed from the bloodstream by the liver. In newborns, the body may produce more bilirubin than the liver can process.”

Fortunately we had scheduled our boy’s first check up at the baby clinic for the day after we got home from the hospital. The nurse checked his count and found that it had increased slightly. Nevertheless we were told that there was still no need for concern.  We needed to make sure he was feeding well and it was suggested to go get blood tests done later that week (just as precaution).

The forth day after I gave birth my milk had arrived. I was still not sure my baby was latching properly, so I decided to try nipple shields that someone had put in one of my baby shower gift bags.

I was cautioned against using the shields by many:

  • It will hinder your supply as your nipples won’t get enough stimulation
  • Your baby will get nipple confusion
  • It will make your baby lazy….
  • Blah blah blah…

I am sure that all of these concerns were valid, BUT using the shield gave me the peace and satisfaction in knowing that my breasts were producing milk and that my baby was getting it. Be that as it may, we still had to do the blood tests that next day. Morning came and we went for the test.  Urgh it is the WORST thing watching someone stick a needle into your new born baby.  Yes it was a heel prick but still – agony!  We got the call from the Paed about two hours later.

I was obviously still adjusting to being home with a baby and, as I mentioned earlier, we were all still recovering from labour. I had brain fog and was completely sleep deprived. All through the phone call with the Paed I was struggling to fully grasp what he was telling me. I thought he wanted us to come in to his office for a consultation, but what was eventually made clear was that WE WERE BEING BOOKED INTO HOSPITAL!

We arrived at the hospital and my husband was tasked with the paperwork required for admission. I was on the paediatric floor answering questions required to get my baby properly set up.  As the questions were coming I was getting more confused, brain fog! I was struggling to communicate with the head nurse and this was making me more frustrated.  I kept asking the nurse to call the Paed and tell him that we were here, but she kept wanting me to answer the questions.  And then, I completely lost it.  I recall getting so angry with the nurse and yelling at her.  I was livid that she was making me sit there and answer questions when I had not yet seen the doctor.  For example – she wanted to know about my baby’s dummy; where his bottle was; what formula they could give for top up feeds?  He was 5 days old and I was exclusively breastfeeding! All the books I read said no bottle or dummy for the first few weeks in order to prevent nipple confusion… So, I had no answers for her.

Then one of the nurses put a mask over the eyes of my 5 day old baby, took him out of my arms and put him in an incubator with the blue lights.  (Cue the mamma tears). Someone came and took blood from my baby, the second time he had given blood that day. My heart was breaking.  When the tests came back the Paed came to see us. He advised that my boy’s bilirubin count was high – close to dangerously high – and that we needed to keep him under the lights. Only to be removed for feeds every 2.5 to 3 hours.

My husband wasn’t allowed to stay with me in hospital that night.  It was the first time I had been alone with our son.  He left with a tear stained shirt. I could hardly sleep between feeds and hated being so far away from my baby. Up till now my boy slept next to me in bed – so having him in an incubator across the room was utter torment.

I tried feeding him, then the night nurse came in and gave him top up formula from a cup.  My sweet boy was needing to be fed top up formula because, somehow, he was not able to get enough milk from me.  I felt like I was already failing him.  To add to this, one of the nurses thought it wise to mention that my boy was probably under the lights because I insisted on breastfeeding.  She said that if I had bottle fed when we left the hospital, he would probably be fine.  I was speechless! All I could do was smile at her.  Inside I wanted to scream, but deep in my hormonal haze and tired confusion, I just smiled…..

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Our Birth Story

Apparently there is an old wives tale that says if you get a cold close to the end of your pregnancy, the birth of your baby is days away.  Well… this is how my story goes:

During the months leading up to my due date, we had been doing a renovation and building project at our home.  As with most projects of this nature we had fallen a bit behind schedule, but the end was near.  If all went well, we would have a few days of rest before the estimated date of our boys arrival – which was 15 August.  I was going to learn fast that with babies things rarely go as planned…..

02 August…..sniff, sniff, cough… I had developed a slight head cold and was battling with a sore throat and stuffiness. We had the last jobs finishing the next day or two and my husband said I was to rest and he would be overseeing it.  That Saturday (04 August), just as the last contractor was leaving, some family come over to visit.  Thereafter my husband and I ate Thai food for dinner and decided to make it an early night and head to bed at… wait for it… 8pm!!!!  Little did we know…..

I will take a pause in my story to let you know that I am an expert planner, coordinator and project manager.  I schedule everything!  Considering my birth plan I realised that I would not know the exact time of my boys arrival.  It gave me great joy to know that only our little boy and God would know the exact date and time of his birth.

5 August.….I sprung a leak!  Early in the morning just before 4am I was woken by the sensation that I was wetting myself in bed.  I pinched my thighs together and swung my body out of bed (as best as a 38 week pregnant lady weighing close to 100kg could do).  I waddled over to the bathroom while trying to gently tell my half asleep husband that I think my water had broken!! It was rather amazing how calmly the next few moments played out:

  • I went to the loo (obviously)
  • I suggested my husband get into the shower while I make the necessary calls to our Doula and the Hospital
  • I showered
  • We grabbed our bags and the box with the car seat – yes we hadn’t gotten to installing this yet….and out the door went

The hospital was expecting me and our Doula would be on route soon.

Here is another good moment to interject in my story to say these two things:  Doulas are amazing.  Read up on them and consider having one be part of your birthing experience.  It really takes the pressure off of you and your partner and enhances the experience for both of you. They carry your vision for your birth and in the moment where emotions and fears are high – they remind you of what the vision is.

Also, generally speaking, once your water has broken you do have time to clean up before heading to the hospital – especially if there are no contractions – so take a deep breath and remain calm.  It is not like we see in the movies.

Hospital trip take one….. We headed off to the hospital and said prayers of thanks to God.  We felt such peace – it was just perfect that we were off to the hospital so early.  No traffic. No stress.  Just peace. YAY!When we got to the hospital (we opted to birth our baby at a midwife run hospital), I was hooked up to some monitoring equipment and then told that they would monitor the baby and I for 30mins.  If all was fine and the contractions had not started, I could head back home and come in once my contractions started; or latest within 12hrs as they would induce labour by 4pm.  Huh!? Talk about an anti-climax.  So my husband and I (and all our boxes and bags and exercise ball in tow), headed back home.

We got back home around 6am and decided to get into bed with some tea and toast; call our parents to let them know my waters had broken; watch a show and get some sleep. Nothing more we could do really….

It starts…. At exactly 11h01 I felt my first contraction. Our Doula was kept updated throughout and we agreed that I would let her know when she needed to come over to my home to assist me.  The grannies came over with lunch and we all sat around the table, ate and chatted excitedly about meeting our little guy.  I had two very intense contractions between 13h00 and 13h30, so I sent our Doula a text please come and went to lay down.

My dear husband was doing his best to remain calm. From time to time (it felt like every other minute) he would look at my with compassion and ask “is it time to go to the hospital yet?”.  I kept reassuring him that I would let him know in good time.  I cannot imagine how helpless he must have felt.

Our Doula arrived…. Our Doula arrived around 14h30 and I was still in bed.  Apparently I was still very chipper between my contractions, but could not talk through them at all. The Doula wrote this in her report “All of a sudden, your surges became more intense. I asked if you wanted to get up out of bed and move around for a bit, giving me more access to your back. You tried, but couldn’t get up out of the bed. That’s when I asked if you wanted to go in to the hospital. You asked me what I thought and I mouthed to Anton that I think we should go. So we got you up and out of bed and off we went.”

Wheel me into the maternity ward…. The ride to the hospital was a blur.  I just remember being in pain. I was wedged in the back seat between the (now installed) infant seat and our sweet Doula, who was somehow contorted into the space next to me so that she could get to my lower back.  My darling husband was doing his best to calmly get us to the hospital QUICKLY!  We arrived at the hospital around 15h30, and while hubby went to park the car our Doula asked for a wheelchair.  No way this mamma was walking.

The midwives started monitoring my surges and baby’s heart rate. At around 16h00 I was examined and found to be 5cm dilated and 7cm on a contraction! WOWEE!!

It is here where I need to step in and comment on a birth plan. In my opinion – HAVE ONE! Research your options. Read birth stories. Envisage how you would like your birth experience to be. Write it down. Make copies for everyone who will be present at the birth.  Get your head in the game as you prepare for the big event….. and then when you are in the moment JUST SURRENDER! Know what is important to you and fundamental to your birth experience, and then know that in the moment YOU CAN CHANGE YOUR MIND ABOUT ALL OF IT.  I laugh now when I think how the only part of my plan that actually worked out was – deliver the baby.  OK back to my  labour…..

The midwife provided me with a warm beanbag for my abdomen, our Doula had one for my lower back. The warm, cosy feeling was HEAVENLY!  I breathed slow and steady.  Dad-to-be was there encouraging me so beautifully. I swayed on a ball with my upper body leaning over the bed and had a beautiful worship song playing in the background; and for about three minutes I was completely relaxed.

Time for the gas… The contractions were intensifying and I was offered some gas, which I gladly took.  I moved onto the bed with my husband close beside me and I sucked that gas mask like a champ! There were moments between those intense surges when I would look at our Doula and tell her that I just couldn’t do this anymore, but she kept encouraging me.  That gas was wonderful.  It just took the edge off the pain and allowed me moments of feeling super relaxed…… so much so that when I was told that my mom was in reception, I advised the midwife that she could come inside.

Uh-hum… this was NOT part of my birth plan. My mom knew that I preferred she not be in the room when I was in active labour.  However, this was the birth of her first grandson and there was no way this fiery woman I call mommy was staying at home. She arrived at the hospital with the intention of waiting in reception until our little baby was here.  I love how there is always a plan that is greater than our own.  I was so out of it (exhausted and “smooshy” from the gas) that I not only invited her in to the room while I was in active labour, but I ordered her to sit in a very specific chair. Without realising it – I had given her a birds eye view to the birth of her very first grandchild.  She sat there not saying a word (which she will tell you took all of her focus and self-control), and she got to see her grandson enter the world. OK, so where were we?!  Oh yes, the gas. 

Even though the gas was helping, I was still experiencing ever-increasing pain.  I am no super woman. I do not like pain or discomfort – so if I was going to see this plan through and get this baby out without medication for the pain – I was going to need God’s help.  I was praying.  Deep in my spirit I was crying out to God for help and strength.  In a beautiful moment of clarity I heard God speak to me.   I turned to look at the Doula, who was standing by my side holding my hand. I said to her “I swear I just heard the voice of God. I just heard God saying ‘I will sustain you’ ”. And just like that I was ready to push.

PUSH!!!!! It was about 18h00 when I first felt the strong urge to start pushing.  The midwife examined me and advised that if I was ready I could start pushing, but that the baby’s head was still quite high. I was ready!! I tried to push sitting upright for about 30 minutes, and then I got tired so we decided that perhaps changing my position would help. I got up on all fours leaning on my husband for support. He kept on encouraging me, telling me over and over again that I could do it this. I tried pushing while being upright on my knees, but I was running out of steam fast. I was audibly saying “Help me, Jesus.” And in response the Doula would say “He will sustain you.”

At this point I was beyond exhausted. I recall turning to the midwife and grabbing her arm saying that I needed the OBGYN to come and take the baby out.  She agreed to call the doctor and suggested that I rest a bit. I was given the gas mask again and my husband assist me to turn onto my side.  I kept asking the midwife when the doctor was going to arrive and at one point I had such a strong contraction, I swear I thought I was going to split in two.  I shouted at the midwife that the baby was coming, but after she examined me she gently told me that he wasn’t here just yet.  My husband kept on telling me that I could do this, that he was proud of me and that I was doing great, but all I kept thinking was I couldn’t do this anymore!

Enter the OBGYN…and our little baby boy. The moment the doctor walked into the room,  I firmly declared again that I wanted her to cut the baby out.  She was so cool, calm and collected.  She told me that she wanted to examine me.  I lay on my back with my head on my husband’s chest. She took her position. To me she looked like that dude that stands outside of the scrum in a rugby match, waiting the catch the ball as it gets released.  After a few moment she advised that the baby’s chin kept moving forward and it was causing him to get a little stuck, so she needed to assist in adjusting his head a little.  I kept telling her that I wanted a C-section. She gently advised that we would try using the “suction thingy” (my words not hers) that attaches to the baby’s head so that she could help get the baby out.  I was not keen on another push, but my doctor assured me that she had the theatre on standby and I just needed to try one more time so that we could attempt to get this baby out the way I hoped.  In hindsight I think she was bluffing about the theatre.

To all the mommies-to-be reading this – you have no idea the value in having a doctor that is with you in reaching your birthing goals.  Those words will forever stay in my heart…. “let’s get the baby out the way you hoped”

The contractions were becoming more spaced, but a lot more intense. I was advised that I should rest while I could, because with the next contraction I was going to have to push with all my might.  As I felt that surge rising around my lower belly and back, I actually started to whimper. I was so tired and it was so painful.  It was here that I believe I got supernatural strength because as the pain grew and with it the urge to push, I bit down and I pushed and I pushed for what felt like minutes. I have no idea how long the contraction lasted or if I pushed through two of them, but I gave it my all. I felt what can only be explained as a “pop” and then a “squish”; and just like that the doctor looked at me and smiled. My baby was born.

At 19h27 on 05 August 2018 I roared our beautiful little baby boy out into the world. He was perfect weighing a healthy 3.45kgs!

I was exhausted.  I didn’t feel that overwhelming emotional state that you see on TV shows. However, I was overjoyed at the sound of my little guy’s loud cry. The new daddy was moved to tears. He leaned over to the baby lying on my chest and cut the umbilical cord.

The aftermath….and the Doula. Now we still had to get that placenta out. Fortunately the OBGYN took care of that. I could just stay in position and wait. My legs were like jelly, I was completely worn out and the bed was a mess.  Our little boy was relaxing on my chest holding his daddy’s thumb. It was a precious moment.  My mom came over to meet the newest love of her life.  We were all smiles and twinkly eyes. I got a few stitches, nothing too serious. Then my husband and the midwife took our boy to be weighed, measured and given his Vitamin K shot; I just wanted to shower.

Now here is where the Doula was worth her weight in gold.  

I was offered a new room. Our Doula assisted me to get up from the bed that I had given birth on; she walked me across the hall to my new room; she helped me undress and get into the shower; she stood there and watched over me as I got cleaned up; she draped a clean towel over me and since I could not bend over she assisted in drying my legs and feet.  Such a beautiful picture of a servant.  She helped me get dressed and then guided me to my new bed with the fresh, clean sheets. Waiting for me there was my husband and my new baby boy.  Our Doula stayed with us till well after 21h00 – assisting with the breastfeeding and ensuring that our meals were delivered so that we too could eat.

Eventually it was just the three of us…. Getting to know each other… Discovering what it means to be together….  Happy and content…. Just the three of us.

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Starting Something New

Eight months into this journey of ‘first time mom’ I have come to accept that just as I get a handle on things, they change. My baby learns and he grows and just like that he is starting something new. It is this beautifully crazy journey that I would like to share with you.

Starting a blog about being a new mommy and sharing my thoughts and experiences with you, is both scary and exciting. Ironically these are the same feelings I had when I first held that pregnancy test that read positive. But that is the thing about the starting block – the origin – if we are brave and step forward, it will change us. We will learn and we will grow.

So, before I take the next step on this mommy-blogger journey, let me introduce myself. I am Origin Mommy.