Footage Friday: Who is Jesse’s favourite?

So… One of the long running discussions in our household has been who is Jesse’s favourite? Mum or Dad?

Well, we may have finally gotten to the bottom of it with Jesse telling Renee first hand, who he thinks the best parent is!!!

HOW YOU LIKE THEM APPLES MUMMY!!! I guess we can call this competition… GAME OVER!!!! Oh hang on, how does the score stack up… well lets see…

Dad: 1
Mum: 0

BOOM!!!

I’m taking this s*** to a higher level Mummy. Come and join me up here. The view is great! Time to step up your game!

Stop and Smell the Baby

In the early days and weeks after having a baby so much time is invested just being in the moment. Countless hours spent staring at your new baby and breathing in that intoxicating new baby smell. Giggling at every new facial expression. Gently tracing their features with your finger and committing it all to memory. Stroking their perfect fingers and toes.

The laundry piling up doesn’t matter (because you hardly leave the house anyway). There’s no need for cooking because you’ve got frozen lasagne loaded in the freezer. And the dishes somehow get done either by a generous visitor or husband.

But eventually, life with a baby becomes the new normal. And as well as being mum we also need to be housekeeper, cook, business owner, wife and finance manager, just to name a few. There’s washing to hang out, emails to send and mouths to feed. It can be a lot. And sometimes we can forget to slow down. Stop and smell the baby.

A few nights ago I was putting Jesse to sleep, as I do most nights, when I was struck by just how special that time with him is. I admit, sometimes it can feel like a drag as I run through my mind all the things I need to do. I can find myself wishing my 1 year old was able to put himself to sleep like I hear so many other babies do.

And suddenly I felt that little pang in my heart. I felt yet again that perhaps I’d gotten bogged down in daily life and hadn’t stopped to really soak in that moment.

So, I cuddled him a little tighter, gently rocked back and forth as I whispered ‘I love you’ and ‘mummy’s here’. I kissed his head and drew in his sweet smell. It felt good.

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Now I know that I’m not always preoccupied and I definitely don’t take motherhood for granted. Most of my days are spent playing with my boy, feeding him, clothing him. I kiss him a hundred times a day and tell him I love him. I watch him learn and discover new things. I teach him things and sing songs with him. But I admit, like everyone, I sometimes become frustrated when I just need to send this email or just need to get these dishes done.

But every so often I’m reminded that maybe those other things can wait.And that sometimes, maybe I need to just stop and smell the baby.

Our Birth Story: A Dad’s Perspective

Two days ago, our little guy turned one! Can you believe that? One! Jesse has officially been part of our lives for a whole year. Where has all that time gone?!

Today we celebrated this wonderful milestone with our closest family and friends at Jesse’s first birthday party.

All the festivities has me reminiscing about our amazing journey into parenthood. From right back to when we first kicked off trying to conceive, to falling pregnant, Jesse’s arrival into the world and those first few days and weeks as new parents. It all still seems so clear in my mind.

So following Renee’s last blog post, I thought I’d give my perspective on Jesse’s birth story. Because let’s face it, how many birth stories have you read from the perspective of the dad?

The last weeks – The calm before the storm

I was loving the fact that I had access to a permanent designated driver ever since we had found out that Renee was pregnant. It was just a shame I didn’t take advantage of this fact more often.

In all seriousness though, in those last weeks of Renee’s pregnancy, we were both starting to get very excited about meeting our little bundle of joy. But it wasn’t just excitement that was starting to build inside me. It was a mixture of emotions that included excitement, nervousness, joy, panic, elation, fear… you get the picture. I was excited but freaking out at the same time about becoming a first time dad.

Renee and I would constantly talk about the impending labour. We spoke about the birth plan, when I should start my parental leave, what kind of labour we thought Renee might experience and when the baby would finally decide it was time to greet the world.

In those last few weeks I constantly joked that I didn’t mind when the baby was born, just as long as it wasn’t born on State of Origin night. And if it was, well there better be a TV in the birthing suite, because I was not going to miss Game 1!

On the weekend of the 23/24 May 2015, Renee and I agreed that I should start my leave earlier than I had initially planned. While the plan was to work right up to when Renee was in labour, I started my leave on Monday, 25 May 2015, so we could enjoy some time together before the baby came.

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The day before

We didn’t have much planned for the day. A casual stroll around the shops (or “the mall” depending on where you’re reading from) was the most exciting thing we had planned for the day. Mostly because we wanted to keep things as relaxed as possible to not put any undue stress on Renee.

After walking around for about an hour, Renee looks at me and tells me that she thinks she’s been having mild contractions the whole time we’ve been at the shops.

“What?! Really?! Do we need to go to the hospital?! Your water isn’t going to break in the middle of the shopping centre is it?!”

I have a slight tendency to overreact to certain situations sometimes. So after Renee assures me that it’s nothing too serious and that perhaps we just head home, I calm down we head off.

For the rest of the day, Renee kept me updated on how she was feeling, how intense the contractions were, how far apart they were and whether she needed me to do anything for her. There didn’t seem to be any consistency to the contractions with regards to how far apart they were, although they were getting more intense.

Later that night at around 11pm, as Renee was leaning up against the kitchen bench to help get her through each contraction, I asked again if we should tell anybody or ring ahead to the hospital. But again I got reassurance from Renee that we don’t need to ring through to anyone just yet, as for all we knew the contractions could stop. Plus, our midwife had told us to stay at home until the contractions were 3 minutes apart, which they weren’t.

So on Renee’s approval, it was off to bed for me to get some sleep, just in case things ramped up during the night.

D-Day

Renee gave me an update over breakfast about her night and how she was presently feeling and as she suspected, throughout the night, the contractions eventually began to get lighter and further apart until they faded away almost entirely. Regardless, we had a midwife appointment at 10:30am, so we could talk through what had happened with a professional soon enough.

I remember however that despite how calm things appeared on the surface, I was still a little anxious underneath it all, as all signs were starting to point to this baby making an appearance sometime in the next few days… if not earlier. And so while at the midwife appointment, I again make the joke that the baby better not come tonight because I really want to watch Game 1 of State of Origin. We all have a bit of a chuckle. We then head to Renee’s parents for a quick visit.

We barely last an hour there before Renee ends up bent back over the kitchen bench as the waves of pain from contractions start again. Renee’s mum looks both excited but supportive as she comforts her through each contraction. Not long after the contractions start again, Renee gives me the nod that she wants to head back home to ride them out.

I leave Renee at home (again, with her permission) to grab some lunch. When I get back, I find Renee doing what could be described as some sort of squatting manoeuvre beside the bed and in what appears to be a world of pain. Even I can tell that this time, it looks like it’s all systems go. Time to call the hospital!

Again, excitement, nervousness, joy, panic, elation, fear all washes over me and I feel my legs start to shake as I start to freak out. Wow… This is actually happening… Right now… This… Is… Happening… Right now… I must hide it well though, because it appears as though Renee doesn’t seem to notice my wave of emotions. Although, given the state she’s in, I can hardly blame her for taking notice of anything else other than the pain she was experiencing.

And while all this is happening, in the back of my mind I can’t help but think, “dammit… all that joking around about how I didn’t want the baby to come on State of Origin night, and now it’s happening!!!”

So I get all the bags we prepared for the birth together and start packing the car. I hit schedule TV to record State of Origin Game 1, just in case we do end up missing it (priorities right) and we head to the hospital.

The drive to the hospital was probably one of the longest drives we’ve ever had to take. I was a nervous ball of energy. Renee was in tears because of the pain she was experiencing with each contraction. And all I wished was that we could somehow teleport right to the doorstep of the hospital.

We make it. But the battle is far from over. I pile myself up with all our bags and help Renee out of the car. But it’s even a slow journey up to the maternity ward with Renee having to stop every few minutes to ride out yet another contraction. We make it to the maternity ward counter and our midwife team is called. Renee gets down on her haunches while holding onto the counter for another contraction when one of the midwives appear and says “Wow, looks like you ready to go then. Follow me.”

In the birthing suite

My first job was to call Sharon and Lia (Renee’s mum and sister) to ask them to come straight to the hospital as Renee wanted them both there for the birth. From that moment on my sole responsibility was making sure I helped Renee as much as possible and whenever she needed it.

And like that it was on… like Donkey Kong!

It was such an intense experience. I often felt a little helpless, as I watched Renee have to push through waves of pain as each contraction got more and more painful. I got her water when she needed it. I helped her move around the room when she needed. I let her squeeze my hands so hard at times that it felt like she was about to break my fingers off. Actually, at one point her mum took over the hand holding and I think Renee did cause her some finger damage!

But I wasn’t going to complain about a single thing, because I knew I’d probably get a slap to the face.

The most annoying thing for me however, was the fact that I must have either been nervous or I drank too much water heading into the birthing suite, because I remember having to go to the toilet nearly every 20 mins. It was quite inconvenient, but whenever I did need to go, Sharon and Lia were there to continue to help Renee through the pain.

I couldn’t believe how well Renee was coping with labour. She wanted the birth to be as natural as it could be and with the exception of a little gas, she did it completely unassisted. And I don’t think I’ve ever told Renee this, but the midwife must have had more faith in Renee than she had in herself, because she turned the gas off well before Renee knew it was off.

And then, at 7:50pm, our beautiful boy was born. Wow… A wave of emotions flooded through me. There he was. A boy. So tiny. So beautiful. All 6lb 2oz of him. Renee caught him in her arms, brought him up to her chest and held him close as he took his first breaths. I nuzzled into them both. So proud of Renee for what she had just done. And so completely overwhelmed with what was now in front of me.

A little while after he was born, I had the pleasure of cutting the cord. And then not too long after that, I got to have my first cuddle of my new born son. Skin to skin. Just me and our baby boy. At that point, I remember thinking how tiny and delicate he was. I was so worried that I was going to break him.

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When the midwife had left to complete some paperwork and Renee and I got some alone time with him together, we started thinking about what we should name him. We didn’t want to rush naming him if we didn’t feel the names we had picked suited him. But, as we did already have a few combinations picked out, we thought that now was a good opportunity to go through them.

Once we got to the name Jesse Jack Barton, we immediately knew this was the one. It fit perfectly. He even looked like a Jesse Jack Barton.

And so as if it was always meant to be, we both looked down at Jesse Jack Barton. Our first child. Our son. Our life.

Like Renee said, I’ll never forget the moment my life changed forever. The moment in that birthing suite where I met our beautiful baby boy for the first time. The moment I fell madly in love with our sweet little Jesse.

My dearest Jesse, happy birthday!

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Photo Friday: Happy Birthday Jesse

Happy birthday to the most amazing little dude we know!

We can hardly believe that you turn one today Jesse! You have brought so much joy and happiness to our lives, more than you will probably ever know.

We love being woken by you every morning. We love your cheekiness. We love your spirit. We love that you suffer from FOMO, even when you should be sleeping. We love how you put a smile on the face of everyone who meets you.

Today, is all about you darling.

Happy birthday Jesse. We love you…

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Our Birth Story: A Mum’s Perspective

We are just days away from our little boy’s first birthday and we can’t quite believe it. No longer a ‘baby’ and becoming more toddler-like with each day.

This special milestone has me reminiscing about his arrival into the world and those first few days as a first time mum.

So I thought I might commemorate the occasion by telling Jesse’s birth story. Partly because all mum’s love to share their labour stories and partly because all kids love to hear about their entrance into the world. But also because I don’t want the details to get fuzzy. I want to document it so I will always remember.

Those last few weeks of pregnancy

I was loving pregnancy but I was also starting to get very excited about meeting our new family member. And if I’m honest, a little anxious about the pain I was about to endure. I had heard lots of birth stories and was even blessed to witness a few bubs coming into the world, but I had no idea what my birth experience would be like.

I knew what I wanted; a calm yet active labour. To labour at home for as long as possible. To do it as naturally and unassisted as possible. But I also knew that a birth plan doesn’t always go to plan and should be flexible.

Kaine would ask me every day towards the end if there was “any movement at the station” before leaving for work and each time I would smile and assure him no, not yet.

On the 25th of May, Kaine decided to start his leave from work. Even if bub didn’t come for another week or more, we would have some special time together before bub did come.

We went for a walk with the dog that day (well I waddled) and I distinctly remember on our way back the man across the road asked how long we had to go. Ten days I answered excitedly. And two days later we were parents.

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The final bump shot – 38 Weeks

Tuesday 26th May, 2015

7am – I’m lying in bed enjoying one of the last few sleep ins I’ll have for probably a very long while and feel myself drifting in and out of sleep. I start to realise that it’s mild period-like pain waking me from my slumber. Without opening my eyes I sleepily wonder to myself if it’s the early stages of contractions. I ignore it for a while longer and continue to snooze.

Later that morning we are both awake as we had plans to go the shops. It’s not until after we are there for about an hour that I mention to Kaine that I think I’m getting mild contractions. Nothing to freak out about, but perhaps we should go home. By this stage they were feeling a bit stronger and all I could think about was not wanting my waters to break in public (clean up in isle 5!).

As the day got later, the contractions got stronger and more painful, but still very irregular. Some were 20 minutes apart while others were 4 or 5 minutes apart.

11 pm – Kaine asked (yet again) if we should tell anyone. I told him no because I knew these things could stop and start. The midwives had told us to stay at home until the contractions were 3 minutes apart so that’s what I was going to do. I instructed Kaine to go and get some sleep. But there was no way I could with the waves of pain I was getting.

So, with the lights dimmed I had my contraction timer app and a game on my phone for in between and every time a contraction came I would get up and squat whilst bracing against the kitchen bench.

Sometime during the early hours of Wednesday I migrated to the spare room to get some rest in between contractions. The gap was getting longer and the pain was getting milder. By 6am the next morning, they were all but gone! I had a midwife appointment at 10.30am, so I knew that I could fill her in with the nights activity and see what she says.

Wednesday 27th May, 2015

After barely any sleep I was feeling particularly spritely – must have been adrenaline kicking in.

10am – We head off to my midwife appointment. I explain the last 24 hours and she says that’s all great signs and this could go on for a week. What now? A week?? Hell no. I have a couple of little pains in her office but nothing to really worry about.

Afterwards we drop by mum’s for a visit as she is right around the corner. Now she knows nothing of what’s been going on until I rush to the kitchen bench to resume my squat position. Conversation stops and breathing gets heavier. I see the look of glee on mum’s face which at the time, seems kind of cruel. After two more I say to Kaine for the second day in a row, “I think we need to go home now”.

12.30pm – We arrive home and while Kaine goes to get lunch I hop into bed with the lap top to continue watching Glee on Netflix which has been my guilty pleasure since starting my maternity leave.

I soon find myself hovering by the bed in a world of pain. I recommence timing contractions and they’re getting closer. It’s time to call the hospital.

The midwife answers and I can hardly talk I’m in so much pain. I manage to form enough words to tell her what’s happening and she tells us to come in.

Holy sh*t! This is happening! We grab our bags, I warm my heat pack one more time and we head out the door.

That car trip is not one I’ll forget anytime soon. I can’t squat my way through contractions in the car and instead have to sit up right. I clench the seat beside me. I start to cry. Partly from the pain and partly because I’m scared.

I have a contraction in the car park and two more getting up to the maternity ward.

2 pm – They hook me up to a machine to listen to bubby’s heartbeat and to monitor contractions. For the next 30 minutes, they just stand around and watch me ryth pain with each one. After deciding that I am indeed in labour they check to see how dilated I am and whether or not they can break my waters.

I was so happy to hear I was 4cm dilated (all that work last night paid off!) and breaking my waters was surprisingly easy and pain free.

Well, from that moment, it was game on! We put the call in to my parents as we had agreed that my mum and sister would join us in the birth suite. They were both unbelievable support as was Kaine.

And I was lucky enough to be able to stick to my birth plan entirely. I remained mobile throughout the whole labour and stayed off the bed pretty much the whole time. It was definitely leg day as I continued to squat with each contraction. Boy did I feel that the next day!

But it was part of my routine. I coped by doing the same thing every time. At one point the midwife suggested I count or get Kaine to count during each one. I remember thinking “if you start to count out loud and I will slap you!”

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When it came time to push I thought nature would just take over. But I found that I really had to deliberately switch gears from riding through the wave of contractions to using it to bear down. I was getting to the stage where I didn’t know how much more I could do or how much longer I could go for.

When I said that the midwife replied that they wouldn’t let me push for much longer. Immediately I wondered what that meant. Assisted delivery? Caesarean? Okay, time to get this baby out!

I realised what was holding me back was my fear of tearing after hearing one particular horror story. I just had to put that aside and breath this baby out.  And that’s exactly what I did.

7.50 pm – It’s finally over. The sweet relief of no more pain washes over me as does the love for the tiny baby I hold in my arms. “Well what is it?” I hear everyone say and I realise I haven’t yet looked to see whether I’m holding my son or my daughter. And nobody else in the room knows either.

It’s a boy I say as I look up at Kaine. We both smile as we look back down at our beautiful baby boy.

My dad, who was not-so-patiently waiting in the waiting room this whole time, joins us while we all marvel at our beautiful baby boy. Around that time, we all put in our final guesses for baby’s weight. He was a delicate parcel of 6 pound 2 ounces. I think Kaine might have guessed his weight exactly.

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I was just completely in new mum bliss mode now. Thrilled to have had such an amazing birth experience but also thrilled it was over. Just in time for my next challenge. Motherhood.

I’ll never forget the moment my life changed forever. The moment I fell even more madly in love with my husband and the moment my heart started to live outside my body.

Jesse, my darling boy, happy birthday.

365 Project: The Home Stretch

A little over a year ago we decided to document our first year as parents – a 365 project and one of the catalysts for this blog.

Here’s a little reminder of what we set out to do.

We will:

  • For the entire first year of Jesse’s life and our first year as parents, chronicle our journey through writings and photos.
  • Both journal something every day of Jesse’s first year of life and our first year as parents, no excuses (no matter how sleep deprived we are)!
  • Each take a photo every day of Jesse’s first year of life and our first year as parents, no excuses (crappy, badly lit, grainy selfies at 5 minutes to midnight included)!
  • Not share our journal entries or photos with each other, until after Jesse’s first birthday (the official end of the project).
  • At the conclusion of The 365 Project, compile and publish the journals and photos as two individual books titled ‘Not So Secret Life Of Us: A year in the life of a first time Dad’ and ‘Not So Secret Life Of Us: A year in the life of a first time Mum’.

We are 343 days in now so well and truly on the home stretch. And though it’s been challenging at times I’m proud to say that we have managed to stick to our intentions for the project.

The hardest part for me has been taking a photo every day. It sounds easy enough and like most mum’s my camera roll is full of photos of my baby. But some days have been so full on the only time I’ve been able to take a quick snap is when Jesse has fallen asleep for the night. And other days there’s just enough time to click a few selfies in between meal times, play time and nappy changes. So this means plenty of dark, grainy shots of Jesse sleeping and selfies with bad hair and dark circles under the eyes.

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Day 56

I’m not sure how interesting it will be for others to read. A New York Times best seller is probably out of the picture! Some days my entries are only a few words long while on other days I have waxed lyrical about the joys and challenges of new motherhood. But I am really intrigued to read Kaine’s finished product as I’m sure he has written thoughts and feelings that weren’t vocalised (as I have) over the last 12 months. I’m also looking forward to looking back over my own and reminiscing, particularly those early days and weeks.

Honestly, it really hasn’t felt like a chore at all and it will actually be kind of weird not to do it any more. Though preparing our finished products as books will certainly keep us busy for a while yet.

I’m really proud that we have stuck with it and no doubt we will have a new project in the works soon enough.

Our Breastfeeding Journey: Part III

I think its over. After nearly 11 months I think my breastfeeding journey with Jesse is coming to an end.

And yes, I am sad about it. I never really understood the emotional part of stopping until recently. But I’m also really  happy and proud that we were able to do it for this long.

When I last shared about my breastfeeding experiences Jesse was 5 months old and I was hoping to keep going for at least one more month. And here we are another 5 months later.

Breast feeds have become less and less frequent over the last few months, so about two weeks ago we decided to start weaning from night feeds and start encouraging Jesse to take a bottle through the night instead. This was mostly because he was waking up so many times during the night to comfort feed that I needed to do something. Within a few days it had worked and I was then just offering once through the day; more so because I wasn’t quite ready to stop yet. But it has now been several days since our last feed so I am coming to terms with it being over for good now.

I could feel the end was near so I made sure I treasured those few minutes a day together over the last couple of weeks. And I’m embracing the fact that my baby is no longer a baby and will soon be turning one. Oh my!

Now that I’m at the final stages, I have loved breastfeeding my son so much. It was such a special time together and often times the only thing that would soothe him. Whether it be sore gums from teething, a tummy ache or a bad dream. It was Mummy and her magic boobs to the rescue.

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But there were times when I was so tired and felt so touched out that it really was one of the most challenging parts of being a new mum. There are many things I will miss about breastfeeding but also several that I won’t. I am also really excited to wear normal bras again. Normal clothes again. And not be the only one that can get up to him through the night! Yay!

Let’s face it though, I probably still will.

So until next time, that is the end of breastfeeding for me. It has been lovely. And hard. And beautiful. And exhausting.

And I wouldn’t change a thing.