t-0 (-10): the hysterical pregnancy

Back in Tudor times, people didn't have a firm idea of how long pregnancy lasted. When Bloody Queen Mary announced her pregnancy, no one thought anything of it when it went a little long. She retreated into confinement. And that lasted a long while (I know how that feels!). And it lasted a little longer and a little longer.

It wasn't a real pregnancy. Some speculated that it was an hysterical pregnancy, born out of her own desire to secure the crown of England to Rome. Some speculate it was maybe a bit of that and the progression of ovarian cancer which would eventually kill her.

Today I had a thought that my pregnancy is starting to seem a little like that...a big countdown and then, waiting, waiting, waiting. Some more waiting.

But I've got ultrasound pics. Really.

And I've got an induction date. Monday. That's later than they normally "allow". I really don't want to make it to that date. And I could fight further. I don't want an induction. But I'm tired of waiting.

No more than 5 days til baby Cletus

t-0 (-9): finally I see a celebrity...on the labour ward

I had a monitoring appointment today. The midwives and junior doctors wanted to put me on the induction train for Cletus's lack of promptness. I said no. They said that only a senior doctor could "let me" go and agree an "alternate" care plan. So we waited and saw a senior doctor. He was totally cool with our wanting to watch and wait. He didn't think there was any risk in waiting until our cut-off date for induction (a week from today). So we went on home.

On the way out I saw Jordan, glamour model, pneumatic breast wearer and one of these people who seems to make a living off being famous.

I almost never see any celebrities, and if I do - I don't recognise them.

And Jordan's pregnant, too. Quite pregnant.

I'm not really surprised that a celeb was there - just by the fact that I noticed her. Our local hospital is reknowned as one of the better for "problem" pregnancies, and despite the fact it's really not a very nice environment it's definitely the place you want to go if you want to be on the safe side. Or if you're a celeb, you might want to go to a nearby private birthing centre - which is just spitting distance from the hospital. (My house is the same distance, which is why I've felt OK about a home birth).

I actually had my camera with me, but there's no way I'd have got it out at the hospital. First off, what if it wasn't really her? And even if it had been, it just would have been too trashy to snap someone's pic in the hospital.

t-0 (-8): latent National Socialism and projects to pass the time

Back in 1999, I was on a bit of a Roman kick. We'd visited some ruins in the countryside and seen some mosaics in the British Museum. I bought a book on Roman mosaics and started on a painstaking complex mosaic coffee table. I'd seen the table-top tiling project done on tv and it was completed, in an afternoon, by two people. I chose a more intricate pattern, smaller tiles and there was only me - but I figured I could complete it in a couple of weeks of mosaicking and tv watching in the evenings. This project occupied a central space in our living area - after I all I wanted it to be convenient. It turned out to be pretty painstaking and tedious. Months and months later, the Vol-in-Law threatened me: Complete the project or he would start randomly gluing large white bathroom tiles to the table top to finish it himself.

I knew he was a bit fed up, but I did not believe that he would interfere with my art. I did not think that he would dare. I awaited inspiration to finish the work.

Beneath my horrified gaze, he glued down the first tile and I took a whole new tack with the table and it was completed by the weekend. It wasn't exactly a Roman design anymore - in fact, it's Roman in the central motif - and abstract Gaudi-esque moving outwards, until you get to the edges, where large white plain bathroom tiles prevail. I would show you a picture, but the table is now covered with a wine rack and the paperwork detritus of our lives.

My next project was a needlepoint design based on a Roman mosaic pattern found in an ancient Romano-British villa. I painstakingly copied out and slightly altered a design I thought I could do in two colors in needlepoint. I was trying to be a bit less ambitious - and needlepoint can be put away in a bag.

It was only when I stepped back a bit, that I realised that the design was full of swastikas. Crap. Well, I'd already started. Plus, swastikas are used as a perfectly normal and nice design element of symbol in loads of cultures (Hopi, Hindu and Roman).

Somewhere along the way, I decided to stitch in the year of completion - 1999. The Vol-in-Law warned me against doing that. He said that I'd be setting myself up for failure (particularly given my extensive track record of 90% completion of art projects before giving up - it wasn't just the table). Rubbish - I said. Thanks for your vote of confidence - I said.

It's 2007, and I pulled out everything in our junk closet to find my roughly 50% completed needework with a big mocking 1999 stiched into the design. I needed a project to pass the time. I needed something to occupy my time while I waited for the baby, propped up my swollen feet and watched old Columbos and Sally Jesse Rafael in syndication.

Well, I finished it. And then some. I added a design surround and stitched in a motto.

Agere et pati Romanum est

To do and to endure (suffer) is Roman. Apparently, the ViL's mother used to say this to him when he was complaining. I changed it slightly to Agere et pati Vol-Abroadium est when I was feeling a bit down about my lot. Which I am now. Perhaps I should have made it Exspecto et pati Vol-Abroadium est - To wait for and to endure.




I've also stitched in 2007, too.

I'm still awaiting and enduring, but now I'm out of needlepoint.

8 days of baby Cletus lateness

t-0 (-7): it's someone's birthday

Mine. It's my birthday. I hadn't wanted to share. But at this point, I'd have been just as happy to evict the little blighter. After all, I already share the day with Hubert Humphrey, Henry Kissinger and Siouxsie Sioux*.

We had a pretty quiet day. Despite gray skies and constant drizzle, we went for a long walk - almost two hours and then out to dinner at an "American" chain restaurant. It's hard to make big plans when you're over a week overdue.





(photo ripped from Underground T-Shirts, with a fine range of similarly imaged t-shirts from the era)
__________

* Which just goes to show that there really is something in the whole horoscope thing. I feel my personality is really something eclectically between Henry Kissinger and Siouxsie. That is - given free rein - I'd probably orchestrate a secret war while wearing wild costumes, wild hair and a lot of eye make-up.


7 days of baby Cletus lateness

t-0 (-6): cute outfits

Well, I'm still out walking - we took another long walk in Richmond Deer Park. It's the Saturday of a holiday weekend, but there were very few people about. I guess the leaden skies threatening rain kept the less cabin be-fevered away. It was nice though, and the cooler weather has helped keep the swelling in my feet to a manageable level. We went pretty much straight after lunch, and there's a lot of strain in my abdominals, so I got a stitch from walking. This happens a lot, but I find myself wishing and hoping it was more than a stitch.

We saw swans and geese with their hatchlings. They're kinda ugly. But they're kinda cute. I'm trying not to be jealous of the critters with their newborns.





-0-

We've been trying to entice Cletus out to the world outside by telling him about all the things that he can do and the places he can go. Right now, it's not much, but surely it's better and more interesting than the current cramped quarters.

We've got all kinds of interesting things for him. We've got cats and a swing. We've got a baby snuggle nest. We've told him so. I also told him that he's got lots of cute outfits to wear. As soon as I said it, I realised how stupid that was. I myself used to run at the phrase "C'mon and try this on."

6 days of baby Cletus lateness

t-0 (-5): If I'd known there was a test...

...I might have studied.

I had my 41 week appointment today. There was a vaginal examination. I failed.

Basically, there's a Bishop's score of 10 - which indicates favorableness of induction, I got only a 4. That's a bare pass at best.

What does this mean? It almost certainly means more waiting.

Cletus. Get out.


5 days of baby Cletus lateness

t-0 (-4): Lime punch

People who tell me to enjoy my sleep now are killing me. I'm already not sleeping well. This seems cosmically unfair. The constant need to pee wakes me up. Sometimes the swelling in my feet actually wakes me up. The anxiety of waiting keeps me up. I'm not very good at this.

Last night I couldn't sleep from about 3:30 to 6:30. I tried to play computer games, but eventually gave up and watched a Perry Mason tv movie - you know from the later years when he's all fat and you're all wondering "How come Perry and Della never got married." Usually, these put me straight to sleep. But not this time. I know I'd seen it before because it had Joe Penny in it. I've always had a fondness for Joe Penny. And I knew I'd seen him in a Perry Mason, but I couldn't remember what the outcome was. Since he was the defendant, you know that he was the one person (other than Della and Perry) who was guaranteed to be innocent. He was, of course, and it was the step-daughter of the victim who-dunnit. Since I'd come in a bit late this was a total surprise to me. I'd never even seen her before.

-0-

I was trying to catch up on my sleep this afternoon. Unfortunately, there was much hammering going on in my street and I couldn't quite get past it to doze off. And then I started to think about Lime Sherbet Punch. We used to have this at school parties in the 70s. It was made with luminous green sherbet and Sprite. The best sherbet base was from Kay's Ice Cream. Is Kay's still around?

I got a bit fixated on it - perhaps even developed a craving. But I could make an attempt to satisfy this one. I had diet lemonade - R. White's by Royal Appointment (British lemonade is kinda like Sprite) in the fridge and lemon-lime Italian sorbet in the freezer. This is the noughties and I'm an urbanite now - now we have sorbet.

I tell you, it was pretty good, but it was a pale yellow not uranium green and that just wasn't the same.

-0-

I'll tell you what else I'm craving. A Marlboro Red. Man, I'd just about kill for one of those. And if Cletus doesn't show up soon, I'd definitely trade my firstborn for a pack of 20.

4 days of baby Cletus lateness

t-0 (-3): fed up

I've said all along that I didn't want to share my birthday with Cletus. I'm selfish that way. I'm starting to panic. My birthday's on Sunday.

Each day seems like an eternity encapsulated - but the birthday (mine) draws ever nearer. I got my first birthday card today.

-0-

Last night I dreamt of labor symptoms, but when I woke up it was a just a dream. I was so disappointed. I'm really fed up.


3 days of baby Cletus lateness

t-0 (-2): still waiting

The Vol-in-Law has developed a special tone now for answering the phone. (I refuse to pick up now.) "We're still waiting," he says. That usually short circuits many of the questions.

We're still waiting. We're tired enough of saying this, that lately every time I hear the phone ring I hope it's Satvinder in Mumbai - masquerading as Sam in the Midlands - wanting to sell me a new mobile phone package - rather than someone asking about the late delivery of the goods.

-0-

We went for another long walk today. I told the ViL about a birth story I read in Ina May's Guide to Childbirth. It was a birth that took place on the farm and the mom-to-be started her day by hiking in the woods around Summertown with friends. She described herself as fairly bounding along. I told the ViL that I felt a little bit bad that I wasn't bounding.

But the ViL said "You've basically got three speeds. Meander, trudge and stride. You've never been a bounder."

Nor a cad. Nor a roue.


2 days of baby Cletus lateness

t-0(-1): the big guns

OK - Cletus. It's time to bring out the big guns. The Scalini's Eggplant Recipe. Apparently, it works.

I'll let you know how I get on.

1 day of baby Cletus lateness

t-0: where's Cletus?

Still no real sign of Cletus. I'm wondering if maybe he's refusing to come out until we stop calling him Cletus.

At least we got out of the house today and went to Richmond Park. Being a lovely sunny Sunday (contrary to predictions), the park was quite full. I hope all that walking will kick something off.

-0-

On the way over, I got out the old MP3 player and plugged it into the car. I realised that my "Dixie Fried Rock" playlist is probably completely inappropriate for tiny ears. Too many adult themes. One song that didn't deal with screwin', drinkin' or cheatin' was The Battle of New Orleans (this verison, performed, I think by The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band).

I love this song. I've even sung it in karaoke, in the UK. Followed by an appeal to the better natures of the rowdy patrons of the scariest pub this side of the dogtracks. My appeal went like this "Please don't kill us."

I love singing this song to the Vol-in-Law - "We fired our guns and the British kept a-comin', but there wasn't nigh as many as there was a while ago. We fired once more and they began to runnin' on down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico. Oh they ran through the briars, and they ran through the brambles and they ran through the bushes where a rabbit wouldn't go..."

The Vol-in-Law, despite being a not-reluctant admirer of Ol' Hickory (him being the quintessential Scots-Irishman whose conception place was within walking distance from where the ViL grew up) does not sing along.

And even this song is a little inappropriate. Poor Cletus, soon to be born an Englishman, won't know which way to jump on this one.

0 days til baby Cletus

t-1: last day - right?

We've had our last baby class today. It was all about taking care of baby. We were given lots of leaflets.

Here's the main thing I learned: Don't overdress baby. Babies in Britain should be kept at 65 F - but of course that's 18 C. Babies in America are supposed to be kept at 70 F.

Our house doesn't have any air conditioning, so basically ambient temperature is what our house will be. The best advice I've seen though is that baby should be wearing one more light layer than what you're comfortable at. Of course, unless it's broiling here, I'm not hot. When Brits are sweltering, I'm reaching for my cardigan.

-0-

I reset my due date til tomorrow, to take in this last class. But officially it was yesterday. Nobody in my family has been overdue for 60 years. Maybe Cletus is just being a good boy and complying with my original wishes.

-0-

I haven't really complained. Until now. But my feet are really swollen. Painfully swollen. Last night I stubbed my toe on the hearth, but instead of just stubbing - I managed to cut my foot open in two places. Not bad, really. But given that my problem is painful swelling the cuts only make things worse. Only walking gives me any relief from the swelling - and now that I've got a cut on the bottom of my foot - walking is a lot less pleasant than it was before.

Still, we managed to go for a walk in a "park" near our house today. It's called the Wandle Wildlife Meadow - but it's really a grown-over wasteland, a disused sewage works with a path cut through it.

But there was some wildlife. We saw some feral children and a couple of young foxes.

And the swelling went down...temporarily.

1 day til baby Cletus

t-2: I'm so bored

I had this idea, see - born of the times my grandfather gave me makework* in the summer to keep me from sleeping in all day. I always thought that if I heard a kid complain "I'm so bored," the standard reply ought to be "That's probably because you don't have enough chores to do."

I am so bored.

It's not like I don't have enough chores to do. I could do endless chores. I think there's some laundry in the dryer. That could be folded. Vacuuming, bathroom cleaning, I just took my seedlings outside finally and there's accumulated dirt in the windowsill. I should probably get that up before the midwives report me to social services. And if I'm too tired to do it, I could always command the Vol-in-Law (don't know how well that would go down, though).

There's weeding and planting out to do - although at 40 weeks pregnant, that really is a bit difficult and something I don't want the ViL messing with.

I could do my little scanning in old photos project. I could go shopping for food.

But no. I am so bored. I am just puttering about, waiting. The waiting is getting oppressive now. We're just waiting for baby to arrive - and the anticipation is so distracting and consuming that neither one of us is really able to concentrate on anything else. Not even getting ready.

2 days til baby Cletus


_____
*one year I'd have to paint the wrought iron, super ornate garden furniture with white lacquer and the next year I'd have to paint it black - the next year white. This necessitated multiple coats to cover the - in my opinion - still good paint job from the previous year. And because I did NOT follow instructions - scraping and removing rust before painting - I managed to seal in the rot. Not that it mattered, since no one ever sat on that garden furniture.

I had to paint it with a brush. Spray machines were not allowed. I complied. My brother did not. He waited until my grandfather left the house and then used a sprayer to do a "really good job."

t-3: don't drink the camel milk

Months ago, someone advised me that if I wanted baby to come on time, that I should:

• drink plenty of water
• walk for one hour every day in the last two to three weeks
• avoid all dairy - but especially NOT to touch camel milk. Camel milk will make your baby come late.
  

She said this with a straight face. Seriously. Of course, this person was raised and was twice pregnant in the Middle East.

The first two make perfect sense. At least, they can't hurt - walking is well advised and it's always good to stay hydrated. I have to admit, I haven't been avoiding dairy - but I mostly come from Northern European stock and we are adapted through evolution to drinking the milk of the cow, so I figure there's no harm in it.

But we're not used to the milk of the camel.

I have managed to go almost 37 years (my own birthday is in 10 days!) without a drop of camel milk (to my knowledge). For the vast majority of this time my avoidance of camel milk has been purely coincidental - but in the last couple of weeks my abstinence has been deliberate. And now I am curious.

I wouldn't know where to buy camel milk, but I would bet that I could probably procure some in a shop off the Edgeware Road in London. I admit, that if some were offered to me now, I would have to refuse it - just in case - but I would take a sample to freeze and try later.

And I was curious enough to look up a UN Food and Agriculture Organization report on Camel Milk. Turns out:

• excellent lactation rates on poor fodder, better than other lactating livestock
  
• good nutritional quality,
• but variable taste depending on the amount of moisture available.

I also discovered that in some cultures only unmarried women, young boys and ritually pure men are allowed to milk camels. There's something I didn't know before - and really another good reason to marry.

3 days til baby Cletus and camel milk is safe once more

t-4: we'll call you

So, we should be all clear now. The Vol-in-Law is on vacation now. The doula's husband's birthday was today (not that she wouldn't have come) - but I'm sure she'd have rather spent today with him. And we've no more plans, so we've given Cletus the all clear to make an appearance whenever now.

And perhaps his arrival will put an end to the phone calls.

So, just to let you know. I am still pregnant. And when I'm not, we'll call you.

4 days til baby Cletus

t-5: things I'll miss

Well, here I am down the last few (hopefully) days of being pregnant. I could compile a list of all the things I'll miss about it, but basically it boils down to one thing.

My legs really haven't needed shaving. The hair on them has become smooth, sparse, light and fine. Even the rather coarse hair on my knees - the result of an accident during a race with a big wheel on a textured driveway - has gotten downright manageable.

5 days til baby Cletus

t-6: baby doll

Just a quick post, so you won't think I've gone into labor in case you're following the countdown posts.

Our doula came round and brought her baby doll. It's not quite life sized, but it's to scale with the pelvis she brought round. It's meant to show how baby travels through the pelvis. You can also use the baby doll to practice breastfeeding holds. I have to admit it seems a little more complicated than I thought. I was warned that having stiff shoulders and tension in the old shoulder blades is the worst thing. Of course, my shoulders are tighter than a high wire.

The Vol-in-Law practiced holding the baby doll. He's never held a baby before.

He cradled its little head and didn't drop it.

Start as you mean to go on.

-0-

I showed the doula this article on breastfeeding from the Mail on Sunday. This article is basically saying "breastfeeding Nazis made me starve my baby" - it all works out when the mum goes on to give her child formula. The doula was very disappointed. I have to agree [mostly] with one of the stories commenters:

It is outrageous that the lack of support women are getting to breastfeed, is being characterised as being a problem of some kind of bullying breastfeeding mafia, rather than the problem it really is -that our culture and our health service, while paying lip service to the desirability of feeding our children with the best food there is,specially designed for them, is actually deeply uncomfortable with it.

Although I'm not sure how much they're deeply uncomfortable with it - as they don't have the time or the patience to make sure that it happens.

6 days til baby Cletus

t-7: I go out walking

I've got two reasons to go walking. My feet are pretty swollen and gentle strolls actually help to keep them from being quite so puffy. And it's said that walking, walking can bring on labor.

Yesterday, we took a fairly lengthy stroll in Richmond Deer Park. The weather threatened to be terrible, but didn't really carry it out so long as we were there. We walked down through Isabella Plantation where the recent rains and slightly cooler weather have sustained the azalea and rhododendron displays.


drifts of azaleas, this area is normally covered in picknickers


the flame azaleas were especially lovely

And with the unsettled weather and gray skies the place wasn't overrun with visitors as it often can be this time of year.

Even though yesterday was the last day I wanted to go into labor, I still did all that walking. I was rewarded with a few twinges, but nothing major. Cletus is a good boy and will arrive at a convenient time, I'm sure.


7 days til baby Cletus

t-8: Free birth!

Technically, I missed a countdown post yesterday, but since I'm up at 5am and it's not fully light yet, we'll just count this as yesterday.

Regular readers will know that I've been scanning in old photos. Here's one of my previous cat.



She died about two and a half years ago, when she was roughly six years old. She had mouth cancer. Probably too much Redman. I kept telling her to cut back.

Anyway, we got this cat because we thought she was a boy. We wanted a boy cat. This kitty had the cutest little fluffy kitten testicles - so neither we nor the crazy German cat shelter woman who gave us this cat suspected that she was anything other than male.

We'd neutered our previous cat a bit too young and stunted his growth, so we held off giving this cat the snip until he started displaying signs of sexual maturity. This didn't happen and it didn't happen. We were quite poor and the cat was quite healthy, so we never took her to the vet.

Then "he" came on heat at about 18 months. We felt pretty stupid. Kitty was pregnant. We pretended it was planned.

-0-

Just like in human pregnancies, people like to offer advice during cat pregnancies, too. Everyone kept telling me that the cat would sneak off and have her kittens and I wouldn't know about it until I noticed she was missing. And then that I should leave the kittens alone and that she wouldn't want me around.

I knew this was the conventional wisdom.

But one night, I was playing Tetris while the Vol-in-Law was off doing his weekend warrior stuff (he was in the Territorial Army at the time) and she kept pestering me. Well, I was pretty annoyed with her pestering because I was doing really, really well at the Tetris. I was on a roll. I was set to break my old record by a mile. All the little pieces were falling into place. I was in the zone.

But the cat wouldn't stop. And I looked up from the screen to find that there was a kitten head emerging from her rear. I paused the Tetris. I didn't really know what to do. But as a smoker, I was sure that my next step involved a cigarette. So, I went downstairs to grab a smoke (I didn't smoke in the house)

She followed me.

Turns out she wanted a birth attendant. So I sat with her and reassured her and helped her break the amniotic sack and encouraged her to lick her first little kitten into breathing. (She was hopeless as a kitty mother.) And then I sat with her for the next one and the Vol-in-Law came home and we both were with her for the third kitten. And she let us watch the whole thing and help her.

And then, it was after midnight, and it seemed to be over. I called VolMom - as it was her birthday - to wish her happy returns of the day and to inform her that she had predicted correctly and the kittens were born on her birthday and then we went to bed. There was another kitten, unbeknownst to me, but he was dead when I found him in the morning.

We kept one of the kittens - here's Other Cat on her 7th birthday:



-0-

Although my cat did not choose an unassisted delivery, I mention all this because I've just been reading about the Free Birth movement in The Guardian. Women who choose to labor and give birth completely alone (see the Unassisted Childbirth website). Some of the people who give birth on their own do so because they're afraid of being pushed into interventions they don't want. Some do so because they're probably just freaky.

To me, giving birth is as personal as having sex," says Sarah, 24, from Essex. "You don't want someone else sitting there watching you." Sarah chose to "freebirth" her first child, now two, at home.

Helloooo, you didn't pregnant all on your own did you? There probably was somebody else in the room, I reckon.

I'm pretty private and I don't really like other people touching me. I've never enjoyed back rubs from friends, for example. And there may well be times during labor that I want some private time and I need to make sure I ask for it. I also am very clear that I don't want midwives yelling at me telling me what to do (I'm quite contrarian - so screaming Push! at me might just slow things down). But birthing alone sounds unnecessarily dangerous - and I'm not sure whether to blame slightly addled headed free-birthers or the medical establishment who can't deal with women who need a bit more space. Apparently some of this is a reaction to the obstetrical insistence on doing things their way...

Although it is never going to be a majority movement, the issue of the over-medicalisation of birth is pushing freebirth on to the mainstream agenda in the US. A slogan war has broken out, with natural birth websites selling T-shirts which read "Pizza boys deliver. Women birth", while the American College of Obstetricians and Gynaecologists gave out bumper stickers at a meeting last year, bearing the opposite message: "Home delivery is for pizza" (From The Guardian)

Well, we're planning a home birth - and depending on length and how hungry folks are - we may opt for home delivery, too.

8 days til baby Cletus and a large veggie and prosciutto pizza

UPDATE: A friend of mine posts on Alabama caving to the medical lobby and disallowing midwifery- it's stuff like this that pushes women of a certain disposition into unassisted childbirth.

t-9: slacker mom

Somebody sent me a copy of a book called Confessions of a Slacker Mom. There was no gift tag. I don't have any idea who sent it.

It looks pretty funny. But I have to wonder...

Is the mysterious gifter trying to reassure me that my parenting style - which will no doubt be fairly slackerish - is OK after all.

Or are they trying to deflect me from my nascent plan of hot housing a child bent on world domination by subtly undermining me with humor???? 'Cause it's not gonna work - baby Cletus will be emperor one day and when he is - I'm going to institute some serious changes.

-0-

I've been a total slacker today. Watched some more daytime tv. Sally Jesse and Judge Judy. Scanned in some more photos. Went to my last midwives appointment. They asked me to schedule an appointment for 41 weeks - that's past my due date. No - wait, I didn't sign up for extra time.

I asked them what I should do if I didn't need the appointment. They seemed to think that I'd be back, but if not - I should just ignore it - no need to call - just forget about them. Cool - I said. Do nothing, just what budding slacker mom wants to hear.

9 days til baby Cletus, and 20 years until I get my hands on some serious power