As big as a baby’s head

A darling friend of mine is pregnant. And absent. She decided that America, despite being full of Septics, was a great place to have a baby. Something about her support system being over there. Or something.

So of course I must knit something for her. My standard baby gift is a cotton hat, a simple pattern, machine washable, cute, and useful (I hope!).

This particular friend fell in love with a man from the Pacific. And many jokes have been made about head size, especially in relation to this baby, and his imminent birth. Since he will be born in the Northern hemisphere spring, I also thought that a larger hat would be useful for longer. So, a larger hat was cast on.

How big?

IMG_0082.jpg

Big enough to fit the resuscitation dummy at our First Aid for Parents course on the weekend 🙂

In Praise of the C-Section

This article talks about the good stuff associated with having to have a c/s. Mainly, a living baby.

The article raises a lot of issues for me – mainly because I still feel crap about not experiencing the labour I had imagined. And worse, experiencing a procedure that was about as far from the what I had imagined as it could be. Of course, having a live baby is very important, of course I would be feeling a lot worse today if I didn’t have the squishy guy around, of course I acknowledge that his life is of primary importance.

But if, for a second, we can separate the outcome for Inigo, and the outcome for me, the C/S was a horrible experience for me. Still 18 months later, I think of those minutes of fear, and huddles of medical personnel, the haste which overcame the importance of treating me like a person instead of a host organism, the LOSS OF CONTROL, and I can’t read that article dispassionately.

And when I hear of someone cheerfully planning a C/S, being upbeat about the positives (I can make dinner for my husband before I go in to the hospital!), I feel sick inside. I’m sure that a rational me would be fine about all of this – but that’s the point. I lost that rational part of me in the confusion 18 months ago, and I don’t know where to find it again.

I’ve bought “Birth Crisis” by Sheila Kitzinger, now I just have to psyche myself into reading it.