Birth Story - VBA2C

On Tuesday 22nd December my waters broke two weeks before my due date and the birth story of George William Blake Torrance began....

The plan was for me to give birth naturally after previously having two Caesarian births for my two girls (aged 10 and 7). My midwife and sister, Judy is very experienced with home births and owns The Birth House in Geelong where many women are encouraged and supported through their pregnancies and births either at home or at TBH where we planned to have our first little boy.

I was exactly 38 weeks pregnant when my membranes ruptured that evening after we'd celebrated Blake's first official day of holidays that day in Barwon Heads as a family. I'd finally accepted that I was best to hope for my due date of January 5 and try to enjoy that week of Christmas celebrations. My pregnancy had been long and difficult like the other two, vomiting until week 16, continued nausea, exhaustion and peri-natal anxiety took their toll and as I grew heavier and bigger than I'd been with the girls I couldn't help imagining an early birth as long as it was NOT near Christmas Day please.

Despite me being exhausted and ready for bed late in the afternoon, we got dressed for some family photos on the farm with Danna that evening. When I went outside to greet her at 7:15pm there was a steady trickle flooding my pads and after a while just pouring freely down my legs. We persisted with the photos, let Judy know and excitedly went to bed as normal, wondering what would happen over night.

I was still steadily losing fluid the next day but Blake and I went to the beach as planned for a walk and a little shop and treat (raw tirimasu slice at Surfcoast Wholefoods). We packed up and went home as we'd been staying at Chris and Judy's and they'd driven through the night to get home from their camping holiday incase my labour started on the 23rd.
Blake and I left the girls at home in the evening to eat Indian takeaway at the waterfront since I'd been looking forward to this final date and it was our last chance. Mild contractions started while we walked a little. At 38 weeks I was too tired to walk far or fast but it was good to be out together, chatting about the baby's name and laughing at the crazy week that was unfolding.

My contractions got stonger through the night and I was up at 3am timing them and becoming more and more uncomfortable. We woke the girls and headed to the birth house at 6am after I had vomited and was shivering with sleep deprivation and pain.
We took barely anything, expecting to be home later that day with our little man. I vomited again in the car and felt miserable but thankful that Judy would be there soon and we'd get this birth thing happening.
I vomited a few more times in the next few hours and threw up most of the fluids I was guzzling, tea, water, soda water. I finally kept down an icey-pole late in the morning and from then on Judy fed me icey-poles for the rest of the day to keep up my energy and fluids. During the morning my contractions climbed into active labour by around 9am and the regularity of them and the exhaustion I already felt had me in tears, worried that my body would not recover from this and that I felt such a desperate need for sleep.*

I pushed through and by midday had found relief in the shower and was able to smile and chat with Blake a little bit in between contractions. Up until then I'd just felt sick and exhausted. The excitement came back and as the contractions were every 3 minutes I thought we could be done in a couple of hours.
By then Blake had let his family know that we wouldn't be at Christmas Eve dinner that afternoon as planned.
Malya and Harper were restless and worried about me, about missing Christmas AND about Christmas being forever ruined with a possible birthday! I worried we'd done the wrong thing bringing them, and I found it hard to separate their concerns from mine and to relax and focus on what I needed to do.

By the afternoon the pain had become almost unbearable and I was forced to let go of much of my concern and as things got worse I was aware of the girls being more and more patient and sweet as they sat by the birth pool holding my hands, wondering when the 'head would come out'.

Judy supported, coached and encouraged me during each lengthening hour and as the pain became all-consuming gave me hope that this was the final stage. But the final stage kept going and going and the hideous pain in my lower back/bottom region got worse. I somehow found the strength to look up from my head rest in the pool every now and then to see if Judy's colleague Pia had arrived which might mean it was nearly over. Pia never came.

Back to the shower, the hot hot water on my lower back being the only relief. And on it went. I'd begged God over and over to make it stop. He was silent in those hours and I felt utterly abandoned, lost and scared with no hope of relief.

At around 6pm, 12 hours after we'd arrived at The Birth House Judy decided to check how far dilated I was as she could see that exhaustion was taking over and threatening my will to continue. She gave me the heart-breaking news that I was only 4cm dilated. I knew straight away that I'd reached the end of my strength a few hours ago and it was so instantly obvious to me that I needed pain relief to survive. We headed to the hospital while I despaired that it was too late, I couldn't face another contraction, why had we waited so long? I was consumed with worry that they wouldn't instantly end my pain. It was knocking the breath out of me and I wanted to scream and beg but could only yell and pant and wait and wait as they put in the canular, took blood and asked questions and talked to me while I had to face 10, 15, 20 horrendous more contractions while I waited and yelled and pleaded, no shower, no moving, just gripping Blake's arms, digging my nails in in utter desperation. 

As I waited for the epidural to work a doctor examined me and said our baby was laying 'Posterior' which explained the back pain and lack of progress. I felt better about our decision to move to the hospital already. The epidural was slowly working and the relief was amazing. My whole body relaxed and I lay in a haze of thankfulness and trust that I was in good hands. Judy took our brave and patient girls home to bed at 9pm and Blake eventually left too to wrap christmas gifts for the following morning and attempt to leave traces of Santa having come for Harper's sake.
I slept while Blake was there, and then the doctor came to check my progress and calmly announced that I was 9cms dilated. While we had accepted that surgery was imminent, We were amazed and excited that this meant we could go ahead with birthing vaginally, though my exhaustion made me apprehensive and I might have said yes to anything for this to be over.
Blake left, Judy came back and I slept some more, exhaustion making sleep so easy for once.
At 12am I measured 10cms and at 12:30am I was all set to start pushing with the help and support of midwives Lauren and Judy while Blake was happy to watch and encourage.
After pushing for an hour with some success, the doctors came in to assist with suction as our babe had been laying, wedged into my pelvis and ready to enter the world for many hours now.
The pain in the right side of my uterus had returned by now with each contraction despite me desperately clicking the top-up button. I was scared that the full blown back pain would return and anxiously checked to see if the button was working.
My legs were put in stirrups, the episiotomy done without pain, and I was told to keep pushing through contractions, though the pain meant that I couldn't push as hard and I felt weak and useless.
Very soon Judy encouraged me to feel George's little head with my hand as it was finally 'popping out'. I then felt the relief of the rest of him coming out (at 1:47am)as the doctors, nurses and Blake cheered me on to push with the last impossible dregs of strength I possessed, and he was handed up to me. I remember noticing the contractions stopped, I'd waited for this for the past 20 hours. And I had my boy on my chest and everything else faded away.

When I think about, or talk about those darkest 4 -5 hours of pain on Christmas Eve I cry, the memory of my despair and disappointment and loneliness despite my wonderful support  team is raw and deep.
Judy explained to me afterwards that getting to 4cm was in fact ahuge achievement and that had I not done this, the doctors would have strongly advised and pushed for a caesarean birth for me, a greater disappointment long term after working so hard to birth naturally. In hindsight I am deeply thankful for her wisdom and constant support in helping me birth naturally (VBA2C - vaginal birth after 2 caesareans) and at every step of the way from the evening of the 22nd to after the birth on Christmas morning and beyond. 
I learned later that our families and a couple of friends had been praying hard and I slowly understood that God had not abandoned me but was working all things together for mine and George's good. (Romans 8:28)

My thankfulness for Judy's knowledge, experience, calm support and encouragement and for the day we spent at The Birth House with the freedom to labour as comfortably and calmly as possible is intense. Also for your love as a sister.

The patience, calmness and care from Blake, I couldn't have done without, for the birth and for every day of the 8 months beforehand. I love you more now than ever.

I will never forget having our daughters present at The Birth House that day -24/12/2015- it was tough for you both, but your support and love even without full understanding meant so much to me. xx



*I've suffered from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome for 15 years now which has made life physically and mentally limiting and natural childbirth was never something we thought I could manage....

The language of Heaven

All my brokenness is a whisper that I don’t belong, and every time I don’t feel like I belong, the Scarred and Rejected God whispers, “Come here, my beloved.”

-Ann Voskamp

And suddenly its June again. Its raining. And its cold. But I can hear this magical sound, and I'm inspired again.

The past few months of illness and family and Church and work, play and sun have unravelled messily behind us, distant and blurry because of the pace we move at. Winter has settled down to stay here, down near the bottom of mainland Australia. We can light fires and drink more tea, make things with yarn and snuggle. But its still a challenge.

My beautiful friend Dee has pointed me to a place of joy lately and while I'm sure I'm probably the last one to find it, it is most definitely the right time for me to have 'a holy experience' on this crazy world of online distractions. My Maisy and I lay and listened to the beautiful music of David Nevue and both fell in love with the sound. An hour before I'd been touched by Ann's words and her little corner of joy and grace, her focus on Jesus.

{from this post}

So we bought the album, and I signed up to read when I can, it brings me back to a place where can drink in the beauty in my day and in the very place I am at, weary and clinging on, often hanging out for sleep time, and really truly it opens my heart to see some of the beauty of Jesus.

Lately my brief daily snippets of Spurgeon wisdom have nudged me, and the women who I meet in our community group have reminded me, and the Spirit is so gentle but persistent when He tells me that I must make time to be with God, to hear each day of grace that rescues a heart like mine and love that waits and stays and reaches out.

Its amazing how small life can get when we are missing that external thing that is bigger and greater than us. That thing that takes our eyes off ourselves and our family and our own pleasures or distractions. The seasons around us change gradually but yet so quickly and when the summer nights are steamy and blanket-less we can't imagine ever needing socks or electric blankets. I cannot imagine here in my warm bed in the middle of June, the feeling of a starved belly or no place to rest. I'm distracted by the list of things that need doing in my big house, the washing and the cooking, the endless cleaning and improving. Simple gratitude is crowded out by our need to do and to consume. We are small and our lives are so completely fragile in the eyes of a Creator who sees all. And when we are always looking down, the parameters of our hearts close in a little tighter and we miss joy and real beauty, and yes even as believers we miss the glory and grace of Jesus.

I am grateful that despite my semi-blindness I still see bits of beauty in my day, that I feel joy when a friend speaks of the smallest of gifts from above that are actually giant when seen through uplifted eyes. After a long, sick, low, frustrated day I might just want to curl up and wait for sleep time and the hope of new mercies tomorrow but tonight my family spur one another on amidst grumbles and bouts of frustrations at lost shoes and scratchy scarves to walk the dog in the dark under the fresh night sky. And the ten minutes of breathing and literally looking up together makes the day's disappointments fall away. He is in control. And I'm not meant to understand it.

So what pulls on my very being and what I seek to do often is to be quiet and still. Because my real home is waiting for me in Heaven, and my body tells me daily that I don't belong here, most especially in winter, I have to keep on learning to speak the language of Heaven.

xoxo

When heaven is really your motherland, then prayer is really your mother tongue, and you can’t help but yearn to speak in the language of your Father now.

-Ann Voskamp

Those forgettable days

You know those days when everything goes wrong. When you wake up and have to fight back the sinking feeling that its going to be a bad one, to fight the negative emotions and the strongest wish for it to be over already.....

Yesterday I woke around 5am with the dreaded feeling of a bad day ahead. I've always loathed the time changes for day light savings as I'm a bad sleeper. I loved living in Cairns for those two blissful years of no winding clocks back and forward and having sleep-confused babies and a cranky body clock!  After my big weekend in melbourne I knew I'd take a while to recover from the walking and talking and shopping and bag carrying but I'm never prepared for how horrible the recovery is.  The day after a huge event I usually feel hungover and sore but there is still that lingering adrenalin to keep me from despairing and feeling the all consuming malaise that inevitably lands upon me the next day an lingers for two or often three days.

So the forgettable day began and always one to make the best of things, I kept our play date with my gorgeous friend Neesha and her adorable children because we rarely see eachother and threw a cake in the oven for the occasion. FAIL! My gluten free banana cake was a miserable fail and the usual success I achieve from throwing in a bit of this and that and changing a recipe to suit my mood let me down, thanks very much!

Feeling nauseous and puffy eyed we welcomed our friends and for a while they took my mind off my sleep-deprived malaise and this gorgeous 'tea time' print, a house warming gift from Neesh warmed my heart and continues to cheer me.

(photo from Etsy, I haven't taken one of mine yet)

I blundered through the afternoon in a mostly horizontal manner until Harper went upstairs on the balcony and got her knee stuck in between the balustrade slats and it was stubbornly and painfully wedged there for half an hour! I called Blake who rushed home from his worksite twenty minutes away and just as he arrived, Sarah and Amelie popped in and saved the day in Sarah's calm can-do manner which was wonderful but made me feel even more useless and annoyed that Blake now had to work late to make up time. Aaarh.

Today I've slept better but the aches and pains are worse, the girls both have colds and I'm frustrated that another day is all but written off. Wow this is just one big whinge isn't it!? Please forgive me, I just feel like writing it all down.

My lovely hot soothing bath this morning got gate crashed by two little nude bodies who were clamouring for a dip in mummy's big bath. I'd started to listen to the first and latest podcast in the new series on 1 & 2 Peter for our church called  'More than Gold' which I'm sure will be just what I need when I get some time today. It was worth the lack of peace and extra headache to have my not-so-small girls still want to have a bath with me. The old 'they grow so fast' cliche is far too true and I'm grasping on desperately to any time with them that resembles the closeness that we have with our little ones.

I'm nearly at the end of this forgettable day. At the end of each tough day I do come to the conclusion that they are never altogether forgettable. I can always find something to be grateful for, always. I'm going to bed now, to curl up with my audiobook and crochet project. And I promise not whinge again any time soon....

xoxo

Things I'm loving

 AUTUMN:: My friend Sarah and I wondered through the beautiful Carlton Gardens to get to the Finders Keepers Market yesterday. There aren't as many autumn leaves about as is normal this time of year but this hardly limited the beauty with the morning sun shining through the trees. Autumn is simply beautiful.

 TEA:: and strawberries with cream surrounded by three gorgeous friends at Belinda's charming cottage. Vintage china and precious company:: things I'm always loving!

A COSY CAFE :: the sight of good coffee usually means I'm with my lovely (crazy) friend Sarah. At Kinfolk cafe on Friday her coffee was instagram-worthy and my peppermint tea was extra aromatic and served in a vintage teapot so with the easy comfort of old friends and the pleasure of people watching we were completely satisfied.

 THOUGHTS TO MAKE YOUR HEART SING:: I'm reading this with my almost 8yr-old and we are loving it! It does exactly what it says, it makes your heart sing :) Malya is really responding to it too and is eager to look up the corresponding bible verses afterwards in our adventure bible.

I DID IT! :: I am loving that I have started (or even finished) the plate display wall in our cubby that I planned aaaages ago, and the vintage hankie curtain I finally sewed together with the window in mind fits nicely across the green cabinet for now. I am loving being back in our home and being able to slowly tick off my half completed crochet, craft and sewing projects. It is really one of the best feelings.

Hope that does not disappoint

Tomorrow is the last day of school for our Malya Hope (for the term).  Its also my last CRE class and it is the day before Good Friday when everyone heads off for a long weekend, lots of chocolate, hot cross buns and usually family time.  

When I was pregnant with Malya (pronounced May-ah, silent 'l') I was extremely unwell and spent a good deal of the nine months in bed or in a wheelchair. It was, at times a dark time for me. It ended in such joy of course when our darling was born, but it was really tough even for months after the birth.  The entire time I held solely on to the hope I have in my Saviour, the hope I have for now and for ever and I had a constant feeling of joy amidst my suffering because of it. So Hope is her middle name and hope continues to fuel my faith and my life as she is about to turn 8!

According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,  to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, 1 Peter 1:3

Tomorrow I'l recap the historical story of Jesus, the Creator, suffering and dying on a cross 2000 odd year ago and being raised to life for the grade 3's at Malya's school. I'll have 30 minutes to share the reason we have an Easter holiday with each class which for most of them will be the only mention of Jesus in their lives until the next RE class.  I realise this is a huge privilege and that many do not agree with CRE in schools and the weight of this responsibility feels heavy at times. My greatest responsibility is to God, to show up and to teach well and to share the hope found only in Him.  But I also have a responsibility to the school and the parents to be respectful of the differing backgrounds of each student. Of course I make it fun and simplify the concepts of Sin and Propitiation and Forgiveness to help the eager listeners understand. And there just might be some eggs hidden in my bag for the end of class for all of them (including the small handful who don't take part in CRE).

In our family we spend Easter focusing more than usual on the saving grace of Jesus and in the hope that does not disappoint. We eat hot cross buns on Friday and lots of chocolate on Sunday and we spend time together and laugh a lot. We go to church at least once, not because we have to or to feel better about ourselves, but to gather together with our extended family, our friends and likeminded believers to give thanks and give our hearts to Him who is and was and is to come.  He who loved us as imperfect and helpless as we are enough to take all of it and die miserably so that we can live!

This is a great article to read on the history of Easter bunnies (what have they got to do with Jesus?)

A friend wrote  this on her facebook page an hour ago and I 'LIKE' it very much -

'Here's the thing: it's nearly Easter, and the story is not about a bunny. Today I read the following quote, and am compelled to share it. As is the chronic shortcoming of text, my tone here is not apparent, so let me tell you before you read it, it is earnest desperate beseeching longing imploring with heart brimful with love:

"If Jesus is Lord of the universe, and his resurrection proves that he is, and he is not Lord of your life, who do you think will win in the end?"

-Unknown'

xoxo

A weekend by the sea

No words necessary to describe the relief at having our man back for a whole weekend of family fun.

xoxo

The privileged two

 Our two girls are the most spoilt children I know.

Not literally spoilt as in 'ruined' or 'spoilt rotten'. How often we use the term with or without the 'rotten' after it without realising what it really means. If one of the girls is given a treat or gift I say 'aren't you spoilt?' What I mean is 'aren't you special (or loved)?'

So let me clarify, our girls are the most spoilt {special, loved and privileged} children I know. I'm biased of course. I hope you think the same of your little people.

I've always been so careful not to really spoil them. We don't buy lots of 'things' for them, especially plastic things. We have always been happy with pre-loved or hand-me-downs. We've managed (up until christmas just passed) to keep them 'latest free', latest technology, latest plastic collectables....etc.  Up until now its been elastics and hopscotch and paddle pools and fun with the hose, climbing trees is our favourite, collecting treasures and creating things with what we have.

But what makes them privileged is that they get to spend much of their time at my parents hobby farm 15 minutes from where we live.

Here they learn to grow things and cuddle baby goats and chickens and even ducks, cows and frogs!  There's an old quirky cubby and playground and old bikes to ride. But best of all there are Grandma and Granddad who love them and welcome them anytime for any amount of time (almost).  Grandma has oodles of patience and is ready to teach and watch and share things with the girls and with each of their 9 cousins.  She is always cooking or baking or gardening or sewing. She makes fresh goats fetta and extracts honey from her bees and when Granddad isn't at work he's milking and feeding working on new projects.

I often lament my time not spent there when busyness, energy or routine restrict it. I'll often go a month without getting down to the Mount Duneed property for a cuddle of the goats and a wander. Mum or Dad will always show me a latest addition (or sadly, subtraction) in the paddocks or a burst of growth in the veggie patches.  Its rejuvenating and inspiring, and each new season brings something different to enjoy.

I have vague memories of visiting my Oma and Opa in Tasmania when we were small and watching Opa milk his cow and drinking it for breakfast. I remember playing in a big sloping field with long grass and wild daisys and walking through long dry grass with my cousin and yelling a lot to ward off snakes.  

Our girls' memories will be just as special but far less fleeting as they grow up so close to their wonderful, almost self-sufficient Grandparents.

xoxo

A week of beginnings

So its finally begun! City on a Hill Geelong has started with an excited small group made up of young families, singles, young marrieds and others meeting together to hear from the word, to sing and to pray together. We are a small bunch for now but for that I am thankful. It wont take long for us to grow into the 3 figure numbers and to need a building to meet in rather than our own homes, which for now are cosy and intimate. 

 Its taken over two years for the much talked about Acts 29 plant to kick off in Geelong and we have been excited from the start, with our good friends the Feavers nearby, equally as excited as us and just as eager for our Pastor family The Grills' to finish up at the Kapooka Army Base in NSW where Andrew was Chaplain, hurry on over to the US for training ad holiday time and finally get their butts down to Geelong to 'get this party started'.  

We are all aware that church planting is FAR from a big party.  So we are all glad that the beginning few months will involve mainly prayer, prayer, and more prayer. 

Our wonderful church for the past two years has been super supportive of us and we've made some lifelong friends who are also a major source of support as we move on to where we feel led.

.........

Almost as big a deal is that little Harper Grace started 4 yr old Kindy this week. My baby is getting ready for school! So when our Malya Hope headed off to her first day of grade 3 (the third beginning for the week) we celebrated the first day of the last year of being day-time buddies with a movie in bed followed by our first icecream date.

Genuine choc-mint flavoured happiness right there!

When big sis is away, with her iphone I will play...

I found time to work on the first rug for the 'new' abode.....

..... and be creative with their hair (and mine).

Our beautiful Miss 7 came home on Friday afternoon all aglow with happiness and confidence, telling us about her new friends and how she has the 'best classroom in the school' and how much fun grade 3 is......

And though I'm weary from the earlier mornings, new church meetings, and all the newness-of-everything angst on behalf of my littles, I can only feel glad and thankful for exciting new beginnings, knowing His hand is on it all.

xoxo

Oh BTW the reno peek IS coming, only they wouldn't let me in with my trusty iphone camera this week as the floors were drying! 

Recovering from all the ‘getting’

Our seven year old daughter is tired. She is still getting over a big fourth term of grade 2, an ear infection and the excitement of Christmas.  So I’ve been gracious with her moods and lack luster attitude. I’ve been somewhat patient with her competitiveness with her sister and unwillingness to be kind for kind’s sake. And we have been waiting patiently for both girls to settle into the holiday routine and be friends again.  

But enough is enough.

We have four weeks of school holidays to go and with the magic of Christmas behind us, the wonderful distraction of Jesus’ birthday month all but forgotten for another year, I’m sensing the need for a new focus.

So while we continue to move from place to place for another month or so we are going to spend each day being grateful.

All four of us will write down on a piece of paper something we are thankful for each evening and put the folded strips into our ‘Grateful Jar’. Each morning we’ll have turns at reaching in for a piece to leave on the bench so we can all aim to be thankful for that one thing for the day.  At some point during the day we’ll read a verse or passage from the bible that will help us along the journey and ultimately to remind us where to direct our gratitude because..

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

James 1:17

I’m hoping that by changing the focus from what they got or what they might still get these holidays to what they already have, they might be far more content.

There are loads of beautiful quotes out there to encourage us all to give thanks. But I feel that only the bible can teach true gratitude.  What I mean is that if my family were taken from me, my home, car and possessions stripped away and I had no friends left in the world and NOTHING to be thankful for on earth (not even a bent crochet hook or a pretty tree to look at), I would still be grateful, despite being miserable.  Only because of Jesus, my only eternal gift.

It is actually pretty easy to be grateful for family and things and beauty. I hope our family can learn to live more gratefully. I hope our jar can be filled to the brim by the time school starts again.

When we were children we were grateful to those who filled our stockings at Christmas time. Why are we not grateful to God for filling our stockings with legs?  

 -G.K Chesterton

xoxo

'Start each day with a grateful heart' - [source]