The birth of my niece, Isla!

Yesterday was a most unforgettable day. I was woken at 6:30, not by my little man, but by a phone call from Adam. Apparently, Lan thought she might be in labour. "It hurts!!", she said. As soon as I heard that, I started making plans. Phil called school and told them he wouldn't be in, I showered and pumped and headed off to Sutherland Hospital with Mum.

Katie, Adam, Mum and I were Lan's support team, but, to be honest, I'm pretty sure they could have done it without me. I felt a bit redundant, not having the midwifery knowledge that Mum and Katie do. I found it incredibly difficult to see my little sister in such pain. I didn't know I'd feel that way. I was stunned by how frustrating helpless, how very despondent and fearful I was feeling. Maybe it was because the pain is still quite real to me, I really empathised, knowing that it would only get worse, knowing she still had to push. It seemed so abjectly unfair — why should my sister have to go through that? Why should anybody? I hate it when midwives carry on about how beautiful and lovely the birth process is — yes, the actual delivery is a moment that can't be matched, but the (in this case, 11 hour lead up) is agonising, fraught and so very, very long. It's horrendous. There's no other word for it, and I would feel negligent in describing it any other way.

Everything started off textbook smooth. Lan laboured at home for about 3 or 4 hours, and was 4cm dilated on arrival. She then jumped in the shower, used the gas, and had a bath, and contractions were strong and regular, but she was coping. Then, much to our surprise and disappointment, we were told she had only progressed 1cm. Upon hearing that, she became slightly defeated, and stressed, and anxious, and, of course, the pain became unbearable, in light of the fact that she still had so much more of it to endure.

But once she hit 6cm, things really took off. Isla was born in the bath, after only 40 minutes of pushing, and her purplish little face let out a big healthy cry almost immediately. Lan's relief was palpable, and there was so much joy in the room. Isla is just perfect — 3550g, 50cm, 34cm head circumference, and a full head of hair. She looks like Adam from the nose down, but has Lan's eyes. She's little and pretty and, most importantly, healthy. I don't know if I'll ever witness a birth ever again — giving birth is just not the same as witnessing it — not sure whether I could. I'll never forget yesterday, and never forget the courage displayed by my beautiful, strong, capable sister.

Things are good. Great!

We are a very happy twosome... I know we're actually a threesome, Phil, Otis and I, but most of the time it's Oat Boy and Mama, one-on-one. And it's great! Last night I fed him to sleep, which was bliss after a few weeks of crying and extended patting (me) and hair-pulling (him). He only woke up twice, snuggled up to me keeping me warm on one of the coldest October days in Sydney's history, and made that angelic little pouty face that he does when he sleep. I must take a photo of that...

He's getting faster and more daring with his bizarre, chest-dragging crawl. Phil calls him the carpet shark.

Eating quite a bit — new things this week include blueberries and Magnum! Hmmm... Only a very occasional treat. He's worked out that he loves chocolate, though. I was ripping open a Freddo the other day, and he started gasping as soon as he heard the tear and saw the milky brown goodness!

I am a little stressed simply because I am so damn busy. Trying my best to finish this chapter, care for him, keep house, and maintain relationships!

Drained... But OK.

Not only does Otis sleep poorly and thus leave Phil and I both rather exhausted, but when he's awake he is just non-stop. Seriously, he is never still. He won't play for very long alone, it's usually only a matter of minutes before he's reaching out to me to hold him. And then I'll pick him up, and he'll want to get back to the toy he'd been playing with. Then he'll play again, then he'll want me again, then he won't want me. It's incredibly frustrating. I can't have a conversation, I can't eat, I can't read, I can't clean. I'm hoping once he's properly crawling and getting himself around that he'll be so busy exploring every inch of the carpet that he'll forget about being clingy to me.

His new favourite meal is a puree of canellinni beans and chicken pan-fried in garlic. He wolfed that down last night and again today for his lunch. He's still enjoying his Weet Bix with strawberry puree and milk, and loves summer fruits and Milk Arrowroots. He'll be having avocado mashed with tinned salmon for dinner tonight. Brain food for my developing boy.

Just saw Bonnie and Emily. They have to WAKE her for feeds! They HAVE TO WAKE THEIR BABY!! It is a totally different world. I have never woken Otis — well, never on purpose, there have been numerous occasions wherein I have accidentally put a saucepan down with just a tiny bit too much force and thus woken him — and can't imagine having that much time sans babe-in-arms. Just goes to show that much of the sleep issues babies have are there from the get go.

Bonnie is such a pretty girl, and she's putting on weight well. All is as it should be. I am so happy for the three of them.

Now I am just waiting for Lan to pop! Pop! It's such an odd expression. There's really no popping involved. Still feeling very strongly that little HD is a boy, but you never can know these things. 50% chance either way, I'd say!

How I hate to be away from him...

I am missing him terribly this morning. Now that he is just so overtly enamoured of me, it makes it at once more difficult to be around him AND more lovely. He really does adore me at the moment, last night he literally screamed when I left the room, and when he walks in the door with his Dad after a trip to the park, his smile is so huge it almost doesn't seem real. Mama, mama, mamamamamama... I love it!

Anyway, he'll be mine again tonight and we'll have plenty of cuddles and kisses.

Last night was great, after a tough afternoon. He slept 'til 12, and then 'til 3:30. An excellent night for my poor little sleeper.

Nine months old today. Wow. 3/4 of a year already gone. The best and worst year of my life, undoubtedly!

Yes, the best and WORST. It's always both at once.

I need a drink...

It just took me thirty minutes of patting to get Otis to sleep. No crying, just lots of squirming, kicking, pulling at the sheepskin, pulling my hair, and poking his feet between the cot rails.

My back hurts, my wrist and forearm hurt and I need a glass of wine like never before.

Dairy-free dieting...

No, it's not because I am keen to shed a few kilos... Although that is certainly true, weight loss has never been enough of a motivator for me to ditch the chocolate and the cheese. Mum spoke at length to a colleague of hers who also works as a mothercraft nurse. She talked to this woman about Oti's tendancy to squirm during the night. Mum and I both think it indicates discomfort of some sort. Anyway, this woman suggested trying a dairy-free diet — he and I — and see whether there is any change. Apparently lactose intolerance is quite common in babies, and lead to all sorts of tummy problems and pains. So, as much as it's hurting me, I haven't eaten any dairy products for the past two days.

Anything for my little boy, hey?!

I am in two minds about this. On the one hand, if there was a magic solution to his fractious sleeping habits, I'd be thrilled. On the other, if it does prove to be the problem, I'll either have to a) continue with the dairy-free diet, or b) put him on formula until 12 months of age. I'd feel so sad, all of a sudden denying him the boob. It would break my heart. But so, too, would Christmas without chocolate or ice cream...

Names...

I love how people are giving their babies such funky, everything-old-is-new-again names these days. I know of an Olive, a Bonnie, a Byron, a June... Lots of lovely new little people with cool, vintage names.