January 2008

PostingSpiritual midwifery



6141GGAP87LBO2204203200PIsitbdp500arrowTopRight4564OU01AA240SH20_Small.jpgMy copy of Spiritual Midwifery by Ina May Gaskin arrived yesterday from the Book Depository after the pregnant wife of one of Va-vay's colleagues recommended it to me last week. Many readers of this blog may already know of Ina May Gaskin, (I have to confess I didn't) but for those who don't, she is a 'self-taught' lay midwife who has helped pioneer ideas we nowadays take for granted in modern obstetrics, like fathers being present at births, the usefulness of breathing techniques, and an end to routine episiotomies. She was one of the first people to present pregnancy, childbirth and breastfeeding from a spiritual perspective and is known as "the mother of authentic midwifery". I stayed up till 2.30am last night reading Spritual Midwifery, literally unable to put it down, fascinated by stories of women giving birth at home in a hippy commune in 1970s Tennessee known as The Farm. Although the photos of beautiful, long-haired Madonnas and bearded husbands date the book to a vanished era, the book has a universality and timelessness that makes it as relevant today as ever. Inspirational and uplifting.

Posted 30 January 2008 11:22 | Number of comments: 2 | Comments

Books Breastfeeding Childbirth Home birth

PostingSpooky

213beJvhqKLAA115_Small.jpgI have made up my mind about one thing. My baby will not be having a supernatural birth. Trawling through Amazon, I came across Supernatural Childbirth. It promises 'a practical and realistic look at God's promises for conception, pregnancy and delivery'. Supernatural Childbirth even includes a 'powerful teaching section on ex-planning [sic] the curse on Eve in the Garden of Eden.' As if labour isn't bad enough, who wants an exorcism to boot?

Call me a sissy, but Unassisted Childbirth isn't high on my list of preferences either. The blurb promises advice on giving birth without medical 'intervention', pointing out that women did exactly this for thousands of years. Curiously enough, the blurb doesn't mention that millions of women died in the process. You know, all that curse on Eve stuff that the supernatural crowd were going to remove. Am still aiming for a water birth at home - but if it doesn't work out that way, I'm not going to beat myself up with rolled-up copies of Unassisted Childbirth. As long as the baby is safe - surely that's all that matters? And I'm certainly not planning on doing it alone. Please, no.

Afterthought

Friend at dinner on Friday: "Did you know that flats strong enough to take birthing pools command a premium in the Edinburgh property market? Estate agent particulars list them nowadays."

Posted 28 January 2008 17:12 | Number of comments: 16 | Comments

Books Childbirth Home birth New baby Water birth

PostingBeating endometriosis

Story in today's Times about how Louise Redknapp, the former pop singer and wife of footballer Jamie, spent years trying to overcome her endometriosis to have a child. I'm not normally into all the Victoria Beckham/WAG stuff, but surprisingly enough Redknapp comes across in the article as a nice, sensible person and I was glad for her that she had her baby in the end. Now she and Jamie are considering trying for another baby. But Redknapp tells the Times she won’t prepare for pregnancy with special diets or exercise: “I think the minute I mentally work myself into a frenzy, it won’t happen. So I’m just not going to think about it and hope for the best.” Good luck to them.

Posted 26 January 2008 11:59 | Number of comments: 6 | Comments

Health Pregnancy

PostingFree fruit in pregnancy

fruit_Small.jpgPregnant women and pre-school children are to be given free fruit, as part of a Scottish government £40m initiative to tackle obesity over the next three years. I'm hoping this means a fruit basket could be on its way over as I type.... I could quite fancy a kiwi, mango or papaya with my tea.

Posted 24 January 2008 18:24 | Number of comments: 8 | Comments

Food Health

PostingBirth Resource Centre

WaterBirthBook_Small.jpgAnybody planning on giving birth in Edinburgh might be interested to know about the city's Birth Resource Centre. They have birth preparation days for couples, pre- and post-natal yogal classes, a library of useful pregnancy and birth books (I've got my eye on The Water Birth Book by Janet Balaskas) and a support group for home births. More importantly, their staff are warm and kind. And they rent birthing pools. Last time I was pregnant I dragged Va-vay along to NCT lessons - and we were lucky enough to meet a great crowd of people, almost all of whom we still meet up with regularly. Life would have been pretty dismal without the NCT crowd, who've provided company and good cheer over the past couple of years. I hope they don't mind me saying that. But Va-vay and I were slackers during the actual lessons - we kept skiving off for dinners out, thinking (correctly) we wouldn't have much chance to go out once the baby arrived. Va-vay is also incorrigibly private - and curled up with embarrassment at discussing pregnancy in front of people he didn't know at the time. Not my problem, really. It's more getting me to shut up that's my issue, especially when I get nervous. But, anyway, my knowledge of childbirth and labour positions is sketchy - though I have no-one to blame but myself. This time I'm going to try and learn up a bit more. Less skiving. More swotting.

Posted 23 January 2008 15:41 | Number of comments: 6 | Comments

Childbirth Friends Health Home birth New baby Out and about Pregnancy Water birth Books

PostingChore wars

Financial pressure on families is so intense that men are increasingly keen for their wives to work, but less so if their children are under school age, reports The Telegraph.

Far from regarding the role of breadwinner as male, the number of men who believe it is the man's job to earn money has dropped by almost half, from 32 per cent in 1989 to 17 per cent in 2006. The findings are part of the latest British Social Attitudes report, an influential government-funded survey.

Women's motives for getting back to work are mixed: some are the main breadwinner, others feel it wrong to waste their education and some say their job is part of their social identity. Many simply need the money.

Some things remain reassuringly unchanged. The battle over who does the household chores has barely moved on in recent years.

Almost eight in 10 people with partners say the woman usually or always does the laundry, a similar proportion to 1994. Surrounded by damp laundry as I type, I can agree with that one, though in fairness to Va-vay, he's good at ironing and more than pulls his weight around the house.

Men and women disagree when it comes to saying how much of the housework they actually do - a situation The Telegraph wittily describes as the "chore wars".

Two thirds of women say that they usually or always do the cleaning but only 54 per cent of men say this of their partner.

The most liberal division of labour is reportedly found among couples where the woman works full-time. Some days I feel pushed working part-time from home. I'm beginning to worry I'll never get the nerve up to go back to full-time work.

Posted 23 January 2008 11:08 | Number of comments: 6 | Comments

Domestic chaos Home Laundry Money Work Work vs mothering

PostingAuld Lang Syne

kilt_Small.jpgFriday 25 January is Burns' Night here in Scotland, when we celebrate the life of national hero and poet Robert 'Rabbie' Burns. Va-vay and I are excited about going to a Burns' Supper in honour of the great man - Va-vay's first Burns Night - and Va-vay has even hired a dinner suit for the occasion. He did have the option of wearing a kilt, but with him being a Sassenach (Englishman) we thought the DJ option best. I'll be wearing a flowing empire-line dress that sort of hides my bump. Erica from Littlemummy has a great guest post at Scribbit on Rabbie Burns and the tradition of Burns Suppers.

Posted 22 January 2008 14:58 | Number of comments: 4 | Comments

Edinburgh Out and about

PostingParty time

DJ Kirkby is having a party over at her place to celebrate her diagnosis with Asperger Syndrome. DJ is a long-time supporter of this blog and has been unfailingly generous in sharing her time and wisdom on the site. So do please pop along and say hello if you haven't already.

Posted 22 January 2008 13:22 | Number of comments: 4 | Comments

Friends

PostingCaffeine linked to miscarriage

coffee_Small.jpgArticle in The Times saying just two cups of coffee per day could cause miscarriage. "The main message for pregnant women is that they probably should consider stopping caffeine consumption during pregnancy," says the scientist who led the US study.

Pat O’Brien, a consultant obstetrician at University College Hospital, London, and spokesman for the Royal College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists, is quoted saying: “This is the best evidence we now have on the subject and I will advise patients to avoid caffeine completely, at least for the first 12 weeks of pregnancy. Good studies have shown it may be safer to drink caffeine after that, but no more than 200 mg a day is still to be recommended.”

The Times helpfully gives caffeine doses:

(caffeine in a 150ml drink):

100mg in coffee

39mg in tea

15mg in a caffeinated soft drink such as cola

2mg in hot chocolate

2mg in decaffeinated coffee

I didn't have a problem with coffee during the pregnancy I lost. But I couldn't bear the taste or smell of coffee in the first trimester with this baby - maybe nature's way of keeping the pregnancy safe. Nowadays I manage the odd cup. And I couldn't imagine life without a morning cup of tea. Nectar.

What do you think of the new caffeine limits? Could you/did you stick to them in pregnancy?

Posted 21 January 2008 11:29 | Number of comments: 14 | Comments

Health Pregnancy Safety Miscarriage

PostingOff duty

Beanie went to Granny's for a night at the weekend. So Va-vay and I went out and painted the town red, clubbing till all hours.... okay, no, we didn't. But we did manage dinner out at one of our favourite restaurants, where we did lots of the usual soppy stuff like reminisce about how we met, dream about moving to France one day and plan our next holiday. What a treat to stroll home via Edinburgh's cobbled Georgian streets, without worrying about rushing back for babysitters. This is the first time Beanie's stayed at her Granny's in a year and my goodness, did I enjoy it. I hadn't realised how much time I spend worrying about whether she's okay when on duty. It was delicious lying there in bed not wondering if Beanie would wake up, whether I should try Calpol, or take her into bed with us. But of course, in the morning I missed her cherubic little face, the sound of her giggles, her toddler truck slamming into a wall, a half-eaten rice cake waved in greeting. We rushed over to Granny's, where we found Beanie and Granny had worn each other out - with Beanie settling only at about midnight. Beanie cried at being parted from her Granny. For her part Granny, who normally never sleeps during the day, said she planned on catching up on sleep after lunch.

Posted 21 January 2008 11:02 | Number of comments: 0 | Comments

Edinburgh Granny Out and about

PostingBathetic

Is it just me or is there something wrong with maternity wear companies that insist on getting details of your due date before they'll allow you to buy any of their kit? After a fruitless trip to our local shopping centre (my most hated place on earth) I decided to buy my maternity 'bathers' on-line. The retailer made me fill out pages of forms - before we got to the section on my baby's due date. None of their business, I thought, and tried to ignore it. In vain. Now I will probably be receiving weekly emails from a retailer with the same name as a Californian pop group. Grits teeth.

Posted 19 January 2008 12:11 | Number of comments: 9 | Comments

Kit

PostingThe Business of Being Born

mposter_Small.jpg Should most births be viewed as a natural life process, or should every delivery be treated as a potentially catastrophic medical emergency? The Business of Being Born is a movie documentary just out that tackles the controversial debate between at-home and hospital births in the US. I don't think it's yet reached the UK (but if anyone's seen it in this country, please let me know). The chronicle follows the stories of married couples opting for home childbirth. You can see a trailer here. Executive producer is Ricki Lake who was inspired to make the film following the unsatisfying birth of her first child. Here is an interview with director Abby Epstein, who became pregnant herself while making the movie. Going by the trailer (I haven't seen the full movie) the film argues that hospital births are managed to suit doctors - and not mothers, who are losing out to the business side of medicine. It shows women in hospital hooked up to enough kit to power the Star Ship Enterprise, being bullied by scalpel-happy doctors. And yes, the mums having home births look fecund and womanly. I cried when some of them delivered their babies. Home birth is growing in popularity in the US - not surprising going by The Business of Being Born. Once I've seen the film, I'll report back in more detail.

Posted 18 January 2008 11:56 | Number of comments: 9 | Comments

Home birth New baby Water birth

PostingYou're not serious

Eco_Small.jpg Giving birth at home takes nerves - as well as floor joists - of steel.

I ring the structural engineer as instructed to find out if our floor joists can take the birthing pool in which I am planning on having a water birth. He says he will charge me £120 just to look at the pool dimensions. It sounds like two minutes' work. The words 'money' and 'old rope' spring to mind. If he has to rip open the floor it'll be more - a lot more - cost unspecified. I cannot stand the thought of anyone ripping up my fitted carpets and making a mess everywhere with their boots and mud - then taking a load of money off us for the privilege.

It is going to cost £200 to hire the pool. There are lots of complicated instructions about liners, input tubes and disinfectant. I start to think about all the other women who must have given birth in it. This feels both inspirational - and a bit yucky.

We need to have a word with our insurance people to make sure we're covered for every eventuality. And then there's the pre-natal yoga to make sure I can climb in the wretched thing. If I ever manage to get enrolled on a course - they're all full up. It wasn't just my imagination last summer when I was desperate to get pregnant - everyone else really is having a baby.

When I told Beanie's granny about the water birth she spluttered: "Oh my God. You're not serious." Then she offered to dig out my old paddling pool from her shed. She thinks I am mad. I am beginning to fear she might be right. I tell her to stop taking the mick. She sniggers.

I ring the pool hire people in London. The woman said, "No, no, don't worry about getting a structural engineer round. It's just like having twelve people at a dinner party." A dinner party where one of the guests gives birth.

She questions me closely about Beanie's birth - and concludes it was the overly-medicalised side of things that led to forceps and epidural. This is not helpful, and just makes me feel bad about something I'm now powerless to change. And I cannot believe that the NHS deliberately sets out to give women difficult births - which seems to be the implication.

I speak to Va-vay, who says: "Look, if it's going to put your mind at rest, spend the £120 and get this checked out properly. The last thing you want is to be getting into that pool and worrying you'll be giving birth downstairs. It's money well spent."

It's not just the money that's worrying me. I phone back the pool hire woman in London. I tell her I'm worried the birth pool won't be enough to help with the pain. "Are you someone who's frightened of pain?" she asks earnestly, as if she's hoping I'll say 'yes'. Aren't all of us frightened of pain, I think. But I say, "Well, yes, a bit."

She says: "My philosophy is that if you welcome the pain then it isn't so bad." Oh God. I do not even dare ask her if she has any children of her own. Do normal people give birth in water? Or is it just masochists? And people with 'philosophies' about how other women should give birth? I'm not giving up yet - I'll carry on with my research into water birth, and report back.

Posted 16 January 2008 17:53 | Number of comments: 22 | Comments

Water birth

PostingSmelling a rat

kidman380262760b_Small.jpg Article in The Independent today by health editor Jeremy Laurance on older mums that leads with Nicole Kidman being pregnant at forty. Doctors have warned that women who delay motherhood are 'defying nature' and increasing the risks for themselves and their babies, provoking a backlash in some quarters from women who smell a conspiracy against older mothers. The article quotes Daisy Waugh, the TV presenter and first-time mother at 39, attacking the double standard whereby ageing rockers Paul McCartney and Rod Stewart, who both fathered babies in their sixties, are congratulated with a slap on the back and a nod and wink, while 'old girls' like her are 'gently encouraged to worry'. "You keep at it, old boys! Breed away! I just wish people weren't so antsy about the old girls, now that we're doing the same thing... We are fed a constant drip of negative, alarmist stories about the dangers of delaying motherhood and I can't help it, I smell a rat."

Posted 15 January 2008 11:56 | Number of comments: 6 | Comments

Older mother

PostingUnderwater

Although only 14 weeks pregnant, I'm already 'showing'. My midwife Lorna said it was the muscles 'remembering' from last time. That is the charitable interpretation. The uncharitable one is that ever since my health visitor told me last summer to stop dieting if I wanted to conceive again, I have denied myself nothing. Working at home I snack away all day. I'm so embarrassed by how big I've got that I don't even like admitting to my due date - because people assume I'm further along than I am and look surprised when I say it's still six months away. Last night I found some aqua-natal classes at the local pool. I think it's time to sign up for those classes. First though I plan to buy a maternity swimsuit. My only current swimsuit ('cozzie' as we say in Scotland) was bought for our honeymoon and has special stomach-clinching panels. Don't want baby to be uncomfortable.

Posted 14 January 2008 17:31 | Number of comments: 12 | Comments

Activities New baby

PostingEnchanted

200pxEnchantedposter_Small.jpgThe first-trimester nausea has gone, so I suggest a cinema trip to an old friend. "Sure," she texts back. "How about The Kite Runner?" I look it up on-line and am scared even reading about it. No way can my addled hormones handle a story of childhood betrayal, exile, civil war, the Taliban and sexual violence. I suggest something called Enchanted - a romantic comedy that looks sufficiently non-threatening. "OK, see u there 30 mins before," texts my friend.

 The only other people in the audience are teenage girls (this is the evening showing). We are the oldest people there by about twenty years. I sense that the matinees are probably full of eight-year-old girls.Does it matter? Not a bit. The 2-D animated opening introduces us to Giselle and her magical animal friends who frolic and sing in the woods. Friend and I exchange looks. I pretend to be mock-horrified - but deep down I'm loving this film. Giselle meets a handsome prince, who asks her to marry him. She accepts. But on the day of the wedding, his evil stepmother, Queen Narissa, steps in to stop the marriage, knowing she will no longer be queen if her son marries.

Narissa throws Giselle down a wishing well, saying she'll send her to a place 'where there are no happy-ever-afters' - this turns out to be modern-day Manhattan. However, here (in live-action) Giselle (still in her wedding dress) eventually meets well-to-do divorce lawyer and single dad Robert, who takes her in for the night.

Robert and Giselle start to fall for each other, but things get complicated when Queen Narissa follows Giselle to Manhattan, to be sure she's seen the last of her would-be daughter-in-law. Narissa tracks Giselle down to a ball, where, disguised as a toothless old hag, she finally persuades her to eat a bite of poisoned apple.

Giselle collapses, and only the kiss of true love (delivered by Robert) saves her life. Unfortunately, Narissa doesn't take this set-back well, turning herself into a huge dragon and grabbing hold of Robert before thundering out onto the roof of the skyscraper where the ball's taking place. Giselle follows, and forces Narissa to let go of Robert. Still in her dragon persona, Narissa falls from the roof and dissolves into glitter on the pavement below. True love triumphs.

It was an entertaining film, full of witty touches - though I did feel like an imposter being there without any young children. Later, I recount the plot to Va-vay. 

"So you see, Va-vay, it really started with his mother not wanting them to get married because then she wouldn't be queen any more."

"Really."

"But then the conflict is resolved when the dragon falls from the skyscraper."

"I thought one of the design features of dragons was they could fly," he replies. "This must have been a freak, flightless dragon."

Some people will insist on being so literal. 

Posted 12 January 2008 23:28 | Number of comments: 16 | Comments

Friends Out and about

PostingThat's my baby

Met Lorna, the midwife, yesterday for my pregnancy booking visit at our local health centre. I'm fourteen weeks pregnant. Va-vay and I are quietly ecstatic. Sorry to have been so coy about it - but after the miscarriage I didn't dare say too much and we had some wider family issues as well.

Huge relief to see it was Lorna doing the booking, as we know her from having Beanie. She took so much time to listen to us and treated me like a human being – not like I’d lost my marbles because I was having a baby, or was a lower form of life because I didn't have a medical degree. She was warm, intelligent and kind - I felt so grateful I hugged her at the end.

Lorna held the Sonicaid to my stomach to listen for the baby’s heartbeat. "Don't freak if I can't find it," she warned me. "It’s still really early days to pick up a heartbeat."  "Don't worry, I won't freak," I fibbed, then clambered up onto the narrow bed. But she found the little tiddler and we heard the heartbeat thudding away. Tears splashed down my face. Va-vay red-eyed too. Lorna looked pleased.

We talked about the delivery. "What we normally suggest for someone who's had a previous delivery like yours is one of three options - either an elective section, a deep, elective episiotomy or..." and she paused, presumably seeing from my face how I felt about doctors getting their knives out on my private bits again: "a home birth".

And as soon as she said 'home birth', I knew that's what I wanted. Have been thinking a home/water birth for ages, but didn’t dare suggest it. Thought the hospital might get funny about my age, plus the delivery last time round wasn't that straightforward (forceps, theatre, blood transfusion).

The hysterical part is that Va-vay is going to get a structural engineer to come and see whether the floor joists in the flat are strong enough to take the birthing pool. It would make a great scene in a movie, but I don’t want to plunge through to the flat underneath us while giving birth. Can't imagine the neighbours would be too thrilled either. But I’m so pleased – a water birth.

Lorna is going to find me a different consultant this time. I was meant to have the same woman as last time, who reminded me uncomfortably of another (fragrant) doctor. The only time I met her I was 'plumbed in' and bleeding heavily; I could hardly walk (much less sit down) and my brand-new nightie (bought by Va-vay in honour of the occasion) was covered in blood and meconium. I'm afraid it's no exaggeration to say I stank. A farmyard would have been fragrant in comparison. Photos of me show a face so puffy from exhaustion my eyes have almost disappeared.

The consultant, in contrast, was the picture of elegance. She sat down (without effort), crossed her legs (it took me weeks after the birth to do that), put the tips of her fingers together, tilted her head back, and proceeded to pontificate on what had happened. It was like being in a tutorial. Then she asked if I wanted to be in a research project into whether 'unfit' women have more difficult deliveries. What a cheek. After I managed to point out I couldn't exercise in the final trimester with Beanie because I was almost crippled with symphysis pubis pain, Va-vay declined on my behalf. He was almost rude.

With any luck I won’t need to go into a hospital again during this pregnancy. Everything else seems so different this time round to how it was expecting Beanie. Lorna asked if I wanted blood tests for abnormalities – and when I said no, she just accepted that, saying of course she understood. Last time, the midwife frowned when I declined the same tests, and insisted on reading out statistics for the likelihood of Down’s, then pausing and looking meaningfully at me and Va-vay.

At last I feel excited about this baby – all the happiness I haven’t dared trust is bubbling up to the surface. The first three months of pregnancy I couldn’t allow myself to believe it would happen. Now I’m looking forwards to July.

Does anyone have any personal experience of home and/or water births? Please  let me know if so.

Posted 10 January 2008 17:17 | Number of comments: 30 | Comments

Childbirth Home birth Husband Water birth

PostingTwelfth night

Woke at 6.15am today, gripped by worry about something that seemed all-consuming at the time but that twelve hours later I cannot exactly remember. Might have been due to over-tiredness following a jaunt yesterday to 'the west coast' of Scotland, an epic journey for the three of us, since I've hardly left my bedroom in the past three months. People in Edinburgh refer to the 'west coast' in a way that makes the place sound like California - and just about as far away. That is misleading. For anybody not familiar with 'Glesgie', my sense is that parallels with Los Angeles are limited. Unless you get red-faced old men on the bus coming up to you in LA, speaking to you in incomprehensible accents, pawing at your child's pram and scaring the wits out of you.

The gentleman in question struck up a conversation with us from the other side of a bus.  It was hard to tell if he was friendly, pissed, mad or a danger, because I couldn't understand half of what he said due to his accent, so I kept my head down and tried to ignore him, but this snatch came through: "Och, ah remember whit it wiz like maself, bringing up a wean," he told us. "Ah had a bairn oaff an Englishwoman. Ah wisnae there, like, ye ken, but I saw whit it wiz like fair her." Great - hands-on parenting from dad. As we were on a bus, attempts at escape seemed futile. I did consider jumping off but didn't know where we were, so decided to sit tight. When he got 'oaff' at the same stop as us and insisted on helping with the pram despite us repeatedly saying 'thank you' and 'goodbye' (I might be Scottish but can be so very English) I thought we'd never shake him, but he slunk off eventually as two policemen hove into view.

However, overall it was a good trip, we saw stuffed animals (Va-vay, being an animal-lover, flinched at the sight of them, but Beanie and I didn't let it put us off), Grayson Perry pots, and I taught Va-vay (an Englishman) how to pronounce Sauchiehall (as in the name of the city's main shopping street). The best bit? We came home happier than ever to be Burghers (as in Edinburgh), not Weegies, as denizens of each city are supposed to call themselves.

Later on at home that evening I want to know why Va-vay and I react so differently to 'incidents' like the one with Bus Man:

"I just feel annoyed someone's bothering us," says Va-vay. "Whereas you feel threatened. That's why you think about it for days afterwards. I don't think about it again after it's happened."

"Really? You really don't think about it for ages and ages after?"

"No, I really don't, I just forget about it," he says, looking surprised, before turning over and going to sleep.

"Errr... could you tell me how that works?" I ask, thinking that no way does he deserve to go to sleep while I lie there imagining all the 'what ifs'.

"No, I can't," he says. "Because you're female. And you wouldn't get it."

If I ever get the chance to come back in another life, I want to come back as a man.

Posted 06 January 2008 19:27 | Number of comments: 15 | Comments

Activities Angst

PostingBleak mid-winter

Waves of stomach pain woke me early on Hogmanay. That sort of stomach pain. The kind that grips like a vice across your middle, leaving you unable to speak. Thought, 'Oh no, this can't be happening.' Resorted to breathing techniques learnt in ante-natal classes more than two years ago ('And now I exhale my pain.... my pain is my friend').

Rang hospital.

'Have you got any bleeding?' the nurse asked.

No.

'Good,' she said. 'Okay, what I'm going to do is ask you to wait a couple of hours then ring back. And by the way, don't take any paracetamol or pain killers. We want to monitor your unmedicated pain.'

Too late for unmedicated pain - already two paracetamol down. Drifted back to sleep. When I woke, the pain had (mostly) gone. Rang hospital back, as instructed.

'How are you getting on then?" asked the nurse.

'The pain's gone,' I told her.

'Good!' she said, sounding really, really, genuinely pleased for me. "Now I can't give you an explanation for what's happened, but it's good sign that your symptoms have disappeared. Here are the emergency numbers you might need over the break. Happy new year."

My voice broke as I tried to wish her the same back. I couldn't finish the conversation properly, just trailed off into silence, feeling like I'd swallowed a bag of wood chippings, and flipped the mobile shut, tears pouring down my face. Then today, I read this story and understood what must have happened, how could I have jumped to the wrong conclusion like that?

Auxiliary New Year's Resolution: must not panic and assume the worst all the time.

Posted 03 January 2008 14:43 | Number of comments: 13 | Comments

PostingPredictions

My predictions for 2008's parenting edicts - with thanks to Scott Pack at Me and My Big Mouth for inspiring the format. I hope - or in some cases fear - they'll prove unfounded, though they might prove closer to the truth than I suspect.

January - any pregnant woman caught drinking, smoking or eating unpasteurised soft cheese will be subject to imprisonment and a fine, announces the government. Any pregnant woman looking like she's enjoying herself will be sent to Guantanamo Bay.

February - a study appears highlighting the plight of women who have no choice but to stay at home to care for their children, claiming these mothers are an economic drain - on the same day the government again refuses tax relief for childcare expenses.

March - more reports decrying 'older' mums who hog medical resources appear. Government ministers make disapproving noises, but do nothing to improve job security or make affordable housing available - steps that would enable younger women to have children more easily.

April - moves by women's pressure groups to persuade employers to introduce more and higher-status part-time jobs are rebuffed by UK firms, who insist the only way to hold down a high-powered job is by living in a camp bed under the desk. 'It cuts down on commuting time,' workers are told. Plans emerge for training counsellors in 're-introducing' workers to their teenage children and rehabilitating staff in family life.

May - in a bid to cut costs, cash-strapped NHS hospitals turn away women in labour, encouraging them to give birth naturally, at home on their own, without a midwife or doctor. "Light some candles and hop in the bath," the few remaining midwives employed by the NHS tell women. "Good luck." Women are encouraged to think of the bragging power they'll have following a 'natural' birth.

June - new mothers to be offered tax credits for breastfeeding. Better-off mothers plan to spend their 'boob money' on restorative underwear that will lift their depleted assets. Unfortunately, the effect is negated by a decision to allow formula milk makers to sponsor the few cash-strapped labour wards still open.

July - IQ tests are introduced for six-month-olds, who are to be streamed at council-funded nurseries. Anxious parents employ home coaches who push babies to improve their loading and stacking skills.

August - as stats show that more children are born to women in their thirties than any other age range, 'older' mothers are praised in the press for their emotional maturity, financial stability and parenting skills.

September - a survey showing that children whose parents spend time playing, reading and interacting with them grow up to be well-balanced individuals makes front-page news.

October - outraged by the spate of wierd celebrity baby names, the UK government follows the French example of introducing an official list of baby names. Anything not on the list (Fifi Trixibelle, eat your heart out) is not allowed. Management consultants are called in to make an appropriate list (Jean-Francois looking unlikely to catch on in the UK).

November - research proving that 'older' women's fertility is not much different to younger women's remains ignored by all the mainstream and specialist medical press.

December - no more babies are allowed to be born this year, the quota has been reached.

Posted 01 January 2008 17:28 | Number of comments: 11 | Comments

Older mother Parenting gurus Work