First 6 months as a new Mom/Mum

Hello and Happy New Year. It's been six months since my last blog post. Hard to believe.

Please enjoy these pics of Sammy in order of birth to six months. Wow! He is a cutie I must say.

A couple of the biggest lessons I've learned so far as a Mom are:

- don't worry about getting it perfect, just get it done.

- prioritize, prioritize, prioritize

Using the new Mommy lessons, you will find future posts to be regular, shorter and include pics.

People keep asking me how much I'm enjoying being a Mom ("Mum"as they say here in Oz). Well, let's just say that I could never have imagined how totally consuming it is to be a new Mother. At the baby shower in February (another blog post that I need to complete!) people told me not to be upset if I found that I didn't have time in the day to brush my teeth or get out of my pajamas. I thought that sounded extreme. Ha! Time flies, day turns in to night and night in to day. It is Monday then Saturday. March and then October. It is all a blur to me.

Initially many of the challenges came as a result of my decision to breastfeed. It seems like it would be such a natural, easy thing to do: baby to the boob, drink, done. Not so much. Major learning curve. There are full-scale organizations dedicated to helping new moms learn to breastfeed and encouraging them not to give up. In the US only 14% of Moms exclusively breast fed for the first 6 months. How about this pic of a working mom multi-tasking?! Holy cow! Pun intended.

A baby's stomach is the size of his tiny little fist, so Sammy was eating every three hours around-the-clock. In fact, he still does. For the first couple of months it was especially exhausting because the feeds lasted about two hours including nappy (diaper) change. Tiny babies can't suck that strongly thus drink very slowly. That was two hours of hell during which time Sammy and I were both in tears. He was working so, so hard to attach himself to the boob, really struggling, and not always successful. I was feeling helpless, sleep-deprived and physically wrecked. My neck, back, arms, shoulders, wrists and hands ached through and through from contorting myself to position him properly so he could drink. Then I would have to hold the impressive Twister position for hours. I will never again look judgementally at the National Geographic women with their obscenely low hanging boobs; they have got it right;in fact, perfect!

To help with the positioning and relieve some of the pain during feeding, I tried all kinds of breast feeding pillows--from home-made foam jobs to $200 designer best-in-class models; nothing worked. Then, one day in an opp shop (what thrift stores are called here, short for "opportunity shop") my friend Daniela spotted a hard, blue crescent pillow with a teddy bear motif. For $5 it worked like a charm and I am eternally grateful to Daniela and the person who donated it to the Op Shop in the first place!

It wasn't just the pillow that saved the day. It was also correcting a tongue-tie and finding an awesome Lactation Consultant. I had never heard of tongue-tie before, but apparently it is really common. Many babies are born with it--basically the little piece of skin that connects under the tongue to the mouth (the frenum) is too short so restricts movement of the tongue, thus making it hard for babies to suck. If serious, it can affect speech abilities later in life. The medical name for tongue-tie is ankyloglossia (just in case that ever comes up in conversation!). Anyway, one of the Lactation Consultants in the hospital mentioned that Sammy had a tongue tie and she recommended that we have it "snipped" but the hospital Pediatrician said is was very slight and not to worry. I certainly didn't want to "snip" anything if it wasn't necessary. The lactation consultant's response to the Pediatrician's no-action point of view was "she isn't the one doing the breast feeding".

I initially learned how to breastfeed in the private hospital in which Sammy was born. One of the unique things about this newly renovated hospital (Frances Perry House) is that they offer a dedicated lactation room to assist new moms with breast feeding, fully staffed with the lactation consultants. These women were literally hands-on--they walked right over to you, grabbed your boob, squeezed it and shoved your nipple in to your baby's mouth. Yikes! Initially shocking, but I got used to it quickly. Some of the new moms had GINORMOUS boobs--seriously giant bowling balls and hard as bowling balls too. Crazy big. Wow.

One of the things that made the learning really challenging was that each Lactation consultant gave a different set of instructions. On top of that I was given multiple books,pamphlets and diagrams all containing heaps of detailed instructions and conflicting opinions. My brain and boobs were exploding; I wondered if I would ever get it right. I was scared to go home, thinking that I wouldn't be able to feed Sammy.

In Australia, when you give birth, the hospital notifies your local neighborhood council and they assign a Maternal and Child Health Care nurse to come out to your home and check on you and your baby as soon as you are released from hospital, free of charge. Amazing. This person then becomes the equivalent of your Pediatrician and you go to their office (one in each neighborhood, a 10 minute walk from my house)weekly for the first month then at months 2, 4, 6 and 8 to have the baby weighed, measured and checked for healthy development. The Maternal and Child Health Care nurse in my neighborhood was a woman named Heather. A buxom woman with red hair and rainbow colored shoe laces. She had "been there, done that" and her response to every question and worry I had was "that's all normal. don't worry about it". She did, however, act decisively when I explained the trouble I was having with breastfeeding. She scheduled an appointment for Jane, a Lactation Consultant, to come out to the house the following day.

Jane was truly an angel. I told her about the lengthy and conflicting instructions I had received, how I was struggling desperately with the breastfeeding and showed her my thick book of "how to" notes from the hospital. She advised me to throw them all away and let the baby lead. She showed me a simple way to hold the baby. She was also the one who confirmed that Sammy had a tongue-tie and encouraged me to have it snipped. She gave me the name of a doctor who could do the procedure. I followed her advice. The procedure took no more than two minutes. I held Sammy, he didn't cry at all and immediately after he was able to attach and drink quite well. In fact, he began a massive growth spurt of 600g or 1.3lbs a week!

For that first couple of months, in between feeds Sammy slept very little--20 minutes naps a couple of times a day, then at midnight or 1am finally going to sleep for a three hour stint. Mostly, though, he was awake screaming in pain. Absolutely agonizing, stabbing, howls. He was practically inconsolable. I tried everything--laying him across my forearms on his tummy, walking him around, gently bouncing him, feeding him more, talking to him, rocking him in my arms, laying him on his back and bicycling his legs, any combination of those things, all of those things...for hours, until it was time to feed him again. Grueling. This explains the near disappearance of my personal hygiene routine and my sanity.

Funny, but no matter how tired I get, I never get tired of staring at Sammy's little face. To get from howling to smiling baby, I stopped eating wheat, beans and onions. I took him to an Osteopath to check his spinal alignment. That made a huge difference as well. Smiling baby. Apparently his sacrum was very compressed Sammy still cries when he is tired or hungry, but not the howling pain sound that rips through my nervous system and my heart.

By the way, breast feeding makes me hungry-- all day long. I cannot get enough food and I'm losing weight like mad. By the time 5pm rolls around, I'm delirious. Bren doesn't get home until 630 or 7pm so I'm pretty much on my own. Try buttering a piece of bread with one hand. No free hands means that meals are handfuls of almonds or cheese sandwiches. I have a baby sling but somehow it doesn't help me. I can't remember why. Maybe because the baby is out in front of me and I didn't feel it was safe or comfortable to deal with a gas stove and knives? Anyway, I ended up eating at KFC a lot, again. Really. Ridiculous.

On the weekends when Brendan did cook and it was time to sit down and relax for a meal, it seemed that it was always the time to feed Sam--or so his crying seemed to say. Our friend Kylie (most popular girls name in Oz)gave us a bouncy chair that I put on top of the table and rock with one hand while eating. He often would fall asleep in the bouncy chair.

More breast feeding joy...
I got abdominal cramps and bleeding after every feed-- all part of the normal discharge of lochia from the uterus. Yuck. My boobs would get painfully swollen, hard as rocks then needle-like, electric stabbing pains would shoot through them as the milk came in throughout the day. All resulting in milk leaking on the front of my shirts, creating circular stains which ultimately would dry in to crunchy patches. So sexy!! Did I mention the insane sugar cravings? I'm eating candy bars every day.. Mars bars, to be exact. Here in Oz that is the most popular candy bar. It is the equivalent of a Milky Way. And at a 7-11 (yes, they have those stores here too), they are $2 a bar or, the "$5 special": candy bar and a bottle of water. Ouch! I get mine at the supermarket when they go on sale for 99 cents.

Oh yes, I'm meant to be writing about the joys of motherhood. Right. So I'll skip the detailed results of not regularly brushing my teeth or hair-- my hair that is now so long and has so many knots that I am giving serious thought to dreadlocks.

I've just learned that babies need about 14 hours of sleep per day. Apparently they are supposed to go to bed at 7pm and sleep through the night-- with interruptions for eating. Then they are supposed to have two hours naps morning and afternoon. Wow. Certainly not my experience for the first five months. Little monkey Sam goes to sleep around midnight and only takes two 20 minute naps per day.

NOW
Now we are nearly through month six and things have improved. Whew!
Sammy is smiling and laughing. He goes to sleep between 7 and 830pm and wakes every 3-4 hours to eat. Now that I've mastered breast-feeding, it is simple to just roll over, feed Sammy and go back to sleep. Yes, we co-sleep. In the morning he is up around 730am, has a morning nap of 20-40 minutes and an afternoon nap of 1-2 hours. He now reaches for and grasps things with his tiny hands. He pushes up when he is on his belly. He can roll from front to back. He sits up on his own and only tips over sometimes. His cheeks are fabulously fat and healthy and cherry red. His eyes are bright and clear. I figured out that he likes to play when he first wakes up, so I quick put him in the bouncy chair and bring it in to the bathroom while I take a fast shower before he gets bored.

All of the earlier crying could have been a result of his tiny digestive system maturing or perhaps it is a bit like Cesar Milan and the Dog Whisperer--many of the baby issues are due to the parents. Uggh. Who knew that kicking his legs like a crazy man meant that he was tired? C'est la vie. I'm now more aware of early signs of tiredness and I also look at the clock to see how long he has been awake--since I now know that babies only stay awake for a couple of hours before they need to sleep again. Doh!

Interesting that when a baby sleeps more during the day he sleeps better and more at night. I've learned that it is possible to stretch the 20 minute naps in to a one to two hour nap (sometimes). That is thanks to the introduction of a pacifier (called a dummy here in Australia or NukNuk the nickname I gave it after the Nuk brand one that my friend Daniela gifted me). When he starts to wake up, I give him the NukNuk and sometimes he goes right back to sleep. Other times I have to pick him up and give him some boob and then he falls back to sleep. Or he doesn't.

Every day he is more and more fun to watch. He giggles and smiles and talks (well, makes lots of sounds that certainly must have meaning), he grabs his feet and puts them both in his mouth. Everything goes in his mouth. He is so proud of his ability to sit up and semi-crawl from place to place.

Enjoy the beautiful Sammy pics. Every morning he looks different; I can see him growing so fast!

Love,
D.

And then there were three! Welcome Samuel Carlton.

car seat sleepy, just born first bite, burrito

with dad week 1, happy baby, just born with Mom!

how cute am i?, just born with dad, happy in car seat

my downstairs bed, at home with mom, love me!

who says babies don't smile?!, first bath, photo-therapy for jaundice

BIRTH STORY

Samuel Carlton McCusker-Newman was born on Monday, March 14th at 5:40pm. Weighing in at 2.57 kilos/ 5.66 lbs. Samuel means "asked of G-d" or "G-d heard". Voila...ask and it is given! Carlton is the neighborhood where Sam was conceived, where Brendan and I used to live.

Samuel didn't wait for Mommy's scheduled surgery on Tuesday March 15th for removal of the cervical suture by her specially hand-picked high risk, high dollar OB/GYN whom she had been seeing throughout the pregnancy, the doc who in November 2010 put the stitch in. Instead, on Sunday night the 13th of March at around 830pm, Sam decided he would begin his break out. More than the usual amount of fluid leaked out of Deidre, prompting her to call the hospital delivery suite. Could this be my water breaking?? They suggested that I may have just "wee'd" on myself and directed me to put a pad in my underwear and check back in an hour". One hour later the pad was dry. I decided to go to sleep and that the baby would not be born until the scheduled surgery on Tuesday the 15th. A few hours later, however, at about 2:30am on Monday, March 14th, a crazy, giant, period-like cramp wrapped its jaws around my lower back and stomach and squeezed until I awoke gasping for air . Then 10 minutes later another breath-taking pain and another. Woah!! It took all of my concentration to breathe through them, so it was a good thing that they only lasted a minute each. I waited an hour to see if they kept coming; I was still clinging to the idea of everything happening as scheduled, not now. Maybe these were just gas pains? Woah! definitely not gas pains and a bit too coincidental that they were occurring every ten minutes. I guess this is it. Given that the date was Monday, 14 March, Labour Day (yes, really!) a public holiday in Australia, my doctor was away on vacation. At first I panicked then I thought c'est la vie. Nothing I could do to change things. Maybe the replacement Doc would be as good or better (all docs I would see would be from my guy's top-rated team). Nothing I could do to stop things, so, I took a shower and then woke Brendan. He was calm as usual, though a bit groggy given the time. We packed a few extra things to our already packed bags, grabbed the cord blood kit (we planned on storing baby's cord blood for future) and then headed to the hospital. We arrived around 5am and the contractions were 5 minutes apart at that point. The doctor turned out to be a gem. A completely approachable, talented, kind, professional: Dr. Salwan Al Salihi. He immediately acknowledged that my doctor was away, introduced himself and reviewed my history with me. He asked if there was anything else I'd like him to know, any questions I had, any concerns. My original Doc was concerned about the possibility of not being able to get the cervical suture out (that tissue may have grown over it) and in that case we would have to do a cesarean. My preference was to avoid a cesarean if possible. I reiterated this to Salwan (doctors go by their first names here in Oz) and he assured me that he would do everything he could for an outcome of vaginal birth. To really get in there and get the stitch out, he had to give me an epidural: he determined this after first having a quick feel around inside without anesthetic. Owwwww. The epidural was one of my biggest fears of the whole delivery experience--a giant needle in my spine that could potentially paralyze me or simply hurt like hell. TO BE CONTINUED...

Baby Shower!

This is a place holder for now. I will add this post soon!

How I Got Through Five Months of Bedrest

This is a place holder for now. I will add this post soon!

Peanut, CVS, DES, Cervical Cerclage Drama

Peanut at 11 weeks old

We've been calling the baby "Peanut" since we first saw it during an 8 week ultrasound back in August 2010. It looked like a little peanut. Just three short weeks later, you can see that Peanut looks like a little person-- little nose, fingers and toes! Amazing. At 34 weeks, last week of Feb 2011, we re-named Peanut something more fitting,"Wriggley", because it is such an active baby! I have been trying to capture on video the moments when it makes visible waves across my stomach as it rolls around or stretches its legs and arms. Wild!

Back in the "Peanut" days, I wondered why pregnant woman and doctors talked about babies in terms of "weeks rather than simple months. Now I understand, and for those of you who may still be perplexed: each week, no matter who you are or where you are in the world, there are set stages of fetal growth and development that occur each week. There are even websites where you can see what a baby looks like in each week of development and read specifics about what changes are occurring-- for both Mum and Bub. Docs check the baby's growth and development against these bench marks.

In Australia (Oz-tray-ya) they say "Mums" and "Bubs" NOT Mom's and babies (well, sometimes babies, but never mOms). On Mother's Day the cards all say "Mum". A popular baby website is called "BubHub". When Mum's go out for a coffee (*big* coffee culture here in Melbourne), the cafes all have "Bubbacinos" on the menu for the little kids who accompany their Mums. A Bubbachino is a cup full of the foamed milk from a latte, sprinkled with chocolate and sugar. If you Google it you'll find all kinds of videos people have posted of their kids devouring Bubbacinos. Some are pretty funny.


OK, back to the Peanut days... In addition to my puzzlement over the weeks vs. months terminology, I didn't quite understand the need for doctor involvement during pregnancy-- it is a natural thing and your body is going to do what it is going to do, right? Well, yes, but as it turns out, there may be some important warning signals that a Doc can recognize and, armed with that info, prevent some not-so-desirable outcomes. In my case, it was WAY more complicated than I ever would have imagined...

Because I was 45 years old at the time of my first appt with my high-risk OB/GYN, he advised me to have a CVS test to check for Down's Syndrome and he scheduled an appointment for me with a DES specialist. Woah! Glad I did the research to scope out the top high-risk OB/GYN and hospital in Melbourne.

According to the Doc, due to my age there was a "very high probability of Down's--10%". Admittedly, 10% didn't seem very high; I was focused on the 90% chance of everything being just fine. But in the world of medicine 10% is substantial. What is a CVS test? Nope, not related at all to CVS pharmacy; no such place here in Oz. CVS is an abbreviation for Chronic Villus Sampling, a test that determines chromosomal or genetic disorders in the fetus. Similar to amniocentesis but able to be done much earlier in a pregnancy. The test involves a giant needle going in to your stomach (after they've done an ultrasound to see exactly where/how the baby is positioned). They actually stab right in to the area where the baby is growing to get a sample of the tissue from the placenta. Freaky!! A friend told me that her baby grabbed the needle during the test. Waaayy too much information for. OMG! Did not want to know that.

The Doc who did the procedure on me is world famous for doing it, so I let go of horrific "what if" scenarios that were making me head explode and decided to simply trust him. Brendan went with me for the procedure and held my hand the whole time. It is amazing how much more laid back things are here in Oz than in the US. They called me in to the room whilst I was fully clothed. They asked me to get on the table. I did, with all of my clothes on, including my shoes, wondering what they were doing. I asked what they were doing. They said "the CVS test". No request for ID, no matching neon nurses uniforms, nada. Just "lift up your shirt" so they could get to my stomach. And then they moved the waistband of my pants down a bit. The cold jelly on the belly for the ultrasound (see Peanut Pic at top of this blog post) and then... the rubbing alcohol and giant needle. I turned my head and looked only at Brendan's face the whole time. The experienced Doc asked me heaps of distracting questions to keep me calm. It hurt no more than a blood test, in fact less. But man, do NOT let your mind think about what is actually going down in those few seconds. All done. Reassuring words from the Doc that the procedure had gone well. He handed me the Peanut pic and explained that I could receive expedited test results in 24 hours for a fee--rather than wait two weeks to find out if the baby was ok. Uhh, no-brainer there! I called in for the results 24 hours later and when they told me everything was okay, I burst in to tears with relief!!! The alternative was sooo overwhelming and I was sooo grateful not having to face that. The test also definitively told the sex of the baby and they asked me if we wanted to know. No thank you. That is one surprise we welcome.

The next complication involved DES. In the 1950's and 60's doctors advised pregnant women to take a drug called DES (Diethylstilbestrol) to keep them from miscarrying . My mom took it. This fact makes me a "DES Daughter" and also makes me a likely candidate for all types of reproductive issues. I'm sure at the time the Docs thought the drug was perfectly safe ( Argghh!). Anyway, it wasn't. The doctors I've seen here all tell me that the fact that I got pregnant so easily and naturally is quite the miracle. However, I did not escape unscathed from the DES...

Apparently what I ended up with is "an incompetent cervix". Rude name, I know (maybe "special-needs cervix" would be better?) but that is what they call it. Truthfully, I didn't even know exactly what a cervix was--other than some reproductive part (shame on me). It is the very bottom of the uterus. So what? Well, if that part ain't "competent", the door is basically open for the baby to come out whenever it wants. So, not a good thing.

Because I am a DES daughter, my Doc advised bi-weekly (fortnightly as they say here) ultrasound scans to check my cervix up until week 28. Around week 18, the week we were scheduled to move in to our new apartment, the scan showed a giant black space--open door cervix. The scan doctor immediately got on the phone with my OB/GYN and it was decided that surgery would take place first thing the next morning, Friday. I was scared; I don't "do" doctors and hospitals. Oh my. I called my friend Jen and she reminded me of the purpose of the procedure--to keep the baby inside, and how good it was that they detected the issue early and could actually do something about it. That helped me keep my perspective a bit. Then there was the practical matter of the move we were scheduled to make that weekend to our new apartment, truck rental, etc. Brendan would have to pack up and move everything on his own. Thank goodness we have amazing friends here. Deb, Gus, Brett, Dave, Andrew and Kai all made themselves available to Brendan for the weekend. So, I just had to focus on getting through the medical procedure.

What they did is called "cervical cerclage" (French make everything sound so beautiful!) Basically, they knocked me out, went inside and wrapped a shoelace-like cord around my cervix. Then they sewed it in place with dissolving stitches. So fun! Actually, it wasn't too bad. I woke up in the recovery room, they wheeled me back to my room, I slept and woke up feeling mostly fine. The worst part was that I still had an IV in my hand and needed to go to the bathroom. The nurse went with me and thank goodness warned me about what I would see. Let's just say that I left behind a GIANT amount of the colors of the American flag less the blue and white. That sight made me a bit nauseous. But everything calmed down and got back to normal slowly but surely.

I was sitting up in the hospital bed the next morning, Saturday,when a really hot guy in jeans, a t-shirt and boots came in to the room. I smiled and said hello and waited for him to explain his presence. He introduced himself as my Doctor's colleague (they share rotations). I had read about him online and he is also a famous high-risk OB/GYN here. Anyway, he asked me sternly "what are you doing?" And before I could say anything, he said "you should not be sitting up. That puts a lot of stress on your cervix. Do you want to be in the hospital over the holidays-- for weeks?". Woah. OK. As he spoke I slowly slid down in the bed until my torso was flat. He asked me how I was feeling, bleeding stats etc. and then ultimately approved my release to go home. He made it clear that I needed to lie flat as much as possible, no exercise and no sex or I could end up in the hospital for the remainder of the pregnancy on bedrest. That was November 6th, so would have meant 5 months in hospital. Enough incentive to motivate me to lie flat. But he also advised "don't stop your life". A bit confusing... how does one lie flat all day and continue a normal life?

Our friend Balu picked me up at the hospital (had the passenger seat completely reclined for me) and took me over to his and Shannon's house to lie on their couch and rest/recover while Brendan and friends moved an initial chunk of our belongings to the new house. Balu and Shannon fed me and then, at the end of the day, took me home to my half empty old apartment.

I slept hard that night and early the next morning a second shift of friends packed an moved the rest of our things to the new house, all while I laid still on a futon mattress watching. It was really important to keep the stitch in place.

The Doctors are thrilled that I've made it to 35 weeks with the stitch in place. In my next post I'll talk about how I did it.

Back on the Blog--Finally!!

Me at 32 weeks. Summertime in Australia. Feb 2011

So I asked myself, "How should I begin blogging again when I've not posted for over six months??" I came up with all sorts of ideas, but in the end a tell-all photo seemed best...do you agree?

It all seems very surreal. I'm 46 years old! Could the vitamin D supplements have anything to do with it or was it simply meant to be? Before I left the US for Australia I said "I'm 45 years old. I guess the only way that I'll have a family now is if I meet someone in Melbourne right away, he's a great guy and I get pregnant soon after." Whoa! Ask and it is given. I'm due March/April and the doctors are all pretty chuffed (pleased). They asked me if it was IVF (invitro fertilisation). Nope. Just naturelle. They know the baby's gender based on a bunch of scary tests I was required to undergo due to my age(results all good), but Brendan and I prefer to wait and be surprised. My preference? Healthy. That's it. All body/mind/spirit parts in place and everything working great--major gift!

So how does "pregnant" equate to not being able to type a few sentences for a blog? Well, in addition to being very, very sick and very, very exhausted the whole time, I was pretty stunned and overtaken by the news. Amazing news, but also a shocking jolt of reality for both of us. Our lives were changed instantly. Here is how we found out ...

When Brendan and I got back from our US trip at the beginning of August, we were both sooo sick, but not from jet lag. Food poisoning of some sort...so we thought. Brendan recovered in a few days, I continued to feel nauseous day and night with a nasty, sour-bile taste in my mouth. Any and every smell made me want to hurl. I kept dragging myself through every day continuing to work full-time in my sales role and basically passing out at 6pm. It took me about 10 days to accept that I wasn't getting better; at that point I called an acupuncturist for help.

Brendan dropped me off at the acupuncturist's office. The doc asked me a zillion questions, the concluding one being "Do you think you might be pregnant?" My jaw dropped. "What??" I asked squinching up my face in disbelief and doubt. He tried again "Is there any chance you could be pregnant?" My mind was racing. Well... technically... I suppose... yes." He then said he would give me a very gentle acupuncture treatment suitable for one who may be pregnant and he suggested that afterward I go to the pharmacy and pick up a pregnancy test. Dead silence. I really couldn't wrap my head around what I was hearing. Was this for real?? After the treatment Brendan came to pick me up. He saw my deer-in-the-headlights face and asked "What happened? Are you alright?" I could barely speak (I know, hard to believe!). In a robotic whisper I said "The doctor wants us to go to the pharmacy to pick up a pregnancy test".

Brendan the meditator and I silently held hands and walked around the corner to the pharmacy. I told the pharmacist I wanted the simplest test possible and, two of them please. The last thing I wanted was to end up dealing with some confusing instruction booklet and confounding results explanation.

After we bought the tests we both decided that dinner would be a good idea. We were up on Sydney Road where there are loads of amazing Middle Eastern restaurants, so that was an easy decision. The places were standing-room only, lines out the door. What was going on? Ramadan. We decided to wait for a table. Cravings were happening big time, so I hoped that vegetarian Brendan wouldn't freak out about the fact that lamb and french fries (chips) were the only possibility for me at that moment. He was okay with it, figuring that there may actually be three of us and that iron/red meat would be good for the virtual third person. He has a friend who told him a true story about another friend who insisted that his wife eat a very limited raw veg/fruit diet throughout the entire pregnancy and the result was disastrous. As we waited for the Ramadan crowd to clear (almost sundown), my nausea was magnifying. Finally, a table. I inhaled my lamb and chips--sooo good!

After dinner, we headed back to the house. Isn't it funny that somehow I had no need at all to go to the bathroom. Ha! It was nearly an hour before I finally braved my way in to the loo (bathroom). A nice thing abut my husband is that he is not impatient; he doesn't push.

I thought I had chosen the most idiot proof method...cup with dipstick (less likely that I'd pee all over my hand and miss the stick). Little did I know that post-pee, there was assembly required and a multi-page instruction booklet! Damn that pharmacist! "BRENDAN!!!". Thank goodness another one of Brendan's good traits is that he can figure things out quickly and calmly. "Yes" he said after reading through the booklet and checking the set up and results. "YES, WHAT???!!!!" I demanded. "Positive". I couldn't believe it and exclaimed "I'm taking the second test!" Brendan quietly went back upstairs. I was able to do the second test on my own and got the same results: Pregnosis = Positive. Holy Cow!!!! I had to lie down.

After a while Brendan came downstairs to check on me. I told him the news. He had already accepted the result from the first test. Those tests only show positive if you have the pregnancy hormone HCG in your urine. The test can give a false negative (if it is very early in the pregnancy and a non-detectable amount of HCG is present), but not a false positive. "Everything will be OK" he assured me.

So, on August 16, 2010 we found out that we were going to be a family. Wow.

I will write a little bit in the blog every day from now on to catch up since my last post in June 2010 (oy!). That means stories and pics from our US trip, our wedding, the move to a new apartment, the pregnancy journey and of course, each post will be peppered with Australia facts and funnies. I'll be sure to include updates on present moment happenings too! The baby is due in 4-6 weeks!

OK, I'll end with an Australian fun fact and a PP (Pregnancy Perk). I had to create a name for all of the new weirdnesses I've been experiencing as a result of the pregnancy!

I just came back from KFC. Yes, Kentucky Fried Chicken. Yes, in Australia. Yes, DEIDRE in KFC in Australia! Anyone who has been pregnant will understand: I HAD to have chicken NOW. The place is across the street from our house. Yup, across the street. Guess what is next door to the KFC? A Subway franchise. Really. Hard to feel far from home with the proliferation of American fast food chains, American TV shows and music, Kmart and Target. Although, in KFC ironcially, I actually did feel like a"foreigner" for the first time since I moved to Melbourne one year ago.

What made me feel "foreign?":

1.) I asked for biscuits and they told me to go next door to Subway. How confused was I?!!! Ohhhhh yeah. "Biscuits" here in Australia biscuits are cookies. I wanted the buttery, pull apart, flaky stuff--Texas style. No such beast here in Australia. The closest thing you will find are scones. Scones are NOT biscuits.

2.) Then I ordered a "fillet to go"-- a chicken breast fillet to go. I pointed at the lovely photograph on the light-up menu, but apparently the pointing didn't help. It was as if I had four heads. Squinching up her forehead to the point where her eyes were nearly closed, the polyester-clad girl behind the counter said, "What??" completely confused by me. "A chicken breast fillet", I answered. Her face further contorted-- absolutely no concept. Finally, her colleague at the other register whispered loudly enough for me to hear "fill-it". "Ohhh" said the girl with recognition. "Fill-it!" she announced to me. "No", I said. "Fill-AY", its a French word and you don't pronounce the "t". One of the many nice things about Ozzies is that they let stuff roll off. Rather than slap me (which my French comment clearly deserved), the two simply exchanged "whatevah" glances and the girl proceeded to type my order in to the computer.

3.) "Take Away? " she asked me next. "Yes, To Go" I answered. Her eyes glazed over again. Blank look. "What?" she asked quizzically. "Yes, TAKE AWAY". I conceded for the ease of the transaction.