I’ve been a woman possessed recently, I’m sure you’ve noticed. I’ve been occupied 24-hours a day torturing myself with my GTBOM experiments for weeks and weeks. It’s all in the name of research though, you should know that, it’s not just my impatience that drives me on, but also a genuine passion for helping out my fellow suffering baby-makers. :-)

I’ve tried everything now. Well pretty much everything (the only one I haven’t actually tried yet, is, (forgive me,) this one.)

I feel now is the time I should document my findings and gather my research in order to draw a conclusion upon my previous experiment. (Do I sound all scientific here? I’m trying . . . ) So white coats and enormous goggles at the ready.

THE CASTOR OIL REPORT

Materials required for Castor Oil Experiment:
100ml Virgin Castor Oil
One willing (if not a little desperate) victim. (Ooops, I meant Candidate)

1:30pm— Massive yummy lunch consumed, (Pasta, Bacon and Cheese Sauce) - in order to line the stomach.
2:00pm—40ml of Virgin Castor Oil mixed with pure Orange Juice downed in one. (Managed entire glass though gagged lots at final mouthful. Tasted similar to Vaseline, not that I have ever actually tasted Vaseline. Tasted similar to how I imagine Vaseline would taste based on the smell . . . Oh you get what I mean.)
2:01pm—Chocolate consumed. (Chocolate in my opinion rarely needs an explanation but in this case I ate a little to take Vaseline taste away.)
6:00pm—Darling husband returns home from work armed with toilet roll.
6:15pm—No symptoms to report other than irregular Braxton Hicks contractions. Am shocked.
6:30pm—Repeat dosage of Castor Oil and OJ. Down in one. This time nearly puke all over the dog. (Very sorry dog)
7:00pm—Lamb, roast potatoes and peas consumed. Very yummy. (Thanks Mum)
7:30pm—No symptoms to report. Am even more shocked.
8:00pm—Braxton Hicks get stronger and a little more regular.
9:00pm—Braxton hicks getting even stronger.
10:00pm—Strong contractions. Am bemused how, after downing almost an entire bottle of strong laxative, I have no sudden urges to visit toilet. Seriously, I apologise if too much info but must be only woman in world to drink laxatives and suffer not even an attack of flactulance. Only wind coming from me is seeping from area formerly housing brain.
11:00pm—Bemusement comes to an end as contractions merge with tummy ache and I find I didn’t get lucky at all. Toilet roll coming in very handy indeed.
11:30pm—Still keeping toilet warm. Can hear Mother and Husband giggling like children. Bastards.
12:00am—Contractions kick in. Ouchy. Phone hospital.
1:00am—Lorelei is carried to friends house, Mummy is put in car with car-seat, notes and labour bag. Excited. Scared. Nervous. Pained.
1:15am—Arrive at Kettering hospital. Shoved onto ward with 5 other women. One woman panting for England. Sounds as though having asthma attack. Can also hear slurping wet sounds of her husbands kisses. Cannot see couple from shitty stained curtains but conclude both are ugly and sweaty and gross. Feel sick. Lots of other women panting and crying too, though none as loudly as first. Lots of scared partners trying to keep composed too. No staff.
1:25am—Still have yet to be greeted. Am feeling very upset.
1:35am—No acknowledgement of my presence at all. Perhaps should begin wailing like greasy woman in corner, however tend to be very quiet in pain and not very good actress.
1:45am—Nobody cares I am here and no one wants to check on me.
1:50am—Go to toilet. Find approx 15 midwives chatting happily, sitting on desks and drinking coffee in reception. Could scream and cry all at once. Am thinking, ‘bollocks, will have baby at home by myself.’ Lots of women do it. Lots of new age hippies and such.
1:52am—Tell Mum and Jay of my plans. Still having contractions, still crying, but starting to doubt am in labour at all. Contractions not as strong as before.
1:55am—Leave shithole known as Maternity Ward and come home. Via MacDonalds. (Micky D's never lets me down - Golden Archers are my saviour.)
2:30am—Am home, first port of call? Bathroom. :-(
2:45am—Finish my 'chat' with toilet, swallow some pain killers and hit the sack. 

My verdict? Well it definitely did something because I’ve not suffered tightening’s as painful as that in the entire pregnancy. As for the nasty side effects? (Or should that be ‘bottom’ effects?! Lol) - well that wasn't so bad in the sceme of things, (though that’s easy to say now that bottom is healed and tummy is no longer in knots.)

Mum, who had been staying with us for the past few days in case I popped has admitted defeat and returned home now. Which means I won’t be treated to as many wonderful Clary Sage Massages and reflexology as I was, alas I was becoming quite accustomed to them and therefore have been swanning about (less swanning more waddling actually) like the queen of Sheeba. (Where is Sheeba by the way? Does such a place exist? And whom, might I ask, is the real queen?! Lol)
 
Will be calling mum back as soon as I get some real action though, (that’s if I ever do) and this time I have been focusing a lot on exactly what I’m going to do when labour does kick off. I’m thinking I’m going to put my foot down and argue a little more for the homebirth that I so want.  The hospital just upsets me so much and I know I’m going to have a terrible time of it if I have to go back there. I’m not being pessimistic, I’m just trying to be realistic. And this is a big deal. The birth of a baby is something no Mother ever forgets in a hurry, I’ve gotta make it a positive experience. 

So that’s my next mission. To secure my homebirth. And in the meantime . . . (and I hate myself for saying this but I guess . . .) Baby will come when he’s ready. 

Steph x 

If there is one skill, and one skill only, that we 21st century women need to possess it's the ability to be decisive.
When it comes down to it, we seem to have so many major decisions thrown at us and so many options to choose from on a daily basis. More so than our ancestors ever had to deal with and many options these days are so easy to take, (so long as you have time, patience and money too that is.) 
 
For instance, instead of simply spending our lives wondering, we can choose to investigate the theory that blondes have more fun, merely by reaching for the bottle of bleach on a supermarket shelf. In fact we can indeed choose to live with barnets of practically every colour of the rainbow, should we wish.  

We can choose to don power suits and go out in pursuit of  fabulous careers, we can choose to have fabulous babies instead or we can choose to balance both!  

We can choose to marry, stay single or date forevermore without anyone really batting an eyelid, (certainly no-one from our generation anyway.)  

Yup, every single day we are faced with decisions and every single decision we make will have an impact on our lives in one way or another.  

So it's a wonder really that 5 years ago, when pregnant with my daughter, Lorelei, i didn't give the options regarding her actual arrival, the labour, much thought at all, instead, through fear and perhaps naivety the only decision i really made was to leave the decision-making up to the shambles that is also known as the NHS.   

I suppose i was under the impression that I didn't really have much control over the situation at all and that it was only passionate hippy types or high maintenance celebs who could determin how their labours would pan out. The average woman, as far as i could tell, simply went along with the norm.  

And so it was that my daughter was born in a hospital, delivered using the pain relief chosen for me by the midwife, (pethidine) and that the two of us were sent home a mere 3 hours after her arrival in order to make space for the next 'victim'. (Ooops, i mean, 'patient.')  

It wasn't a horrific ordeal, far from it, but it was the significantly painful and relatively frightening experience that i had pretty much expected it to be. And when i really think about it, really break it all down, i think in my case the whole thing could have been a damn sight easier if it hadn't of been for the restrictions and the policies at the hospital.  

Now I'd like to point out that I am by no means saying all hospital staff are rubbish, (this is definitely not the case, my midwife was fantastic, and anyone can see how hard they all work,) and I'm not saying that having a baby in hospital is a terrible decision, (many women find it works out perfectly for them!) - I am instead merely sharing my own experiences and future plans . . .  

So I have four weeks to prepare for Baby C's arrival, and whilst i am (pardon the expression,) shitting bricks at the thought of going through labour all over again, i am also strangely excited at the prospect of having my baby in the comfort of my own home.  

So what do you think? Are you shocked? Am I crazy? Or would you do it too?   Let me know, would love to hear your thoughts!  

Love to all!  

Stephie x

Last night we experienced a little drama in the Connolly household, not unusual, you might say, since Jay and I are the unofficial King & Queen of drama, (you only have to look at the events and incidents that have surrounded us in the last three years as evidence.) This time, however, the drama came indirectly from the smallest and newest member of our crew, little baby C (the bun in my oven.)

It started with shooting pains in my lower back and tightenings across my entire bump, which wasn't too alarming as i'd kinda figured the contractions were just the usual Braxton Hicks, ('practise contractions,') which tend to come and go pretty quickly at random times and without any real pain at all.

Yet when i found myself waddling around the house like a duck and unintentionally doing Darth Vader breathing impressions - with contractions coming on every five minutes or so - i begin to panic, just a tad.

Jay timed them, (using the Contractions Master website) and I got in the tub to shave my legs and wash my hair, (cannot have baby C witnessing his Mumma for the first time looking like shit now can I?!) - I then telephoned my own Mumma, (which is the first thing i do in any crisis) who decided she should head on over, just in case.

At this point in my tale i should inform you that whilst i am incredibly intuitive and quite psychic at times, (seriously, i know you won't believe me but it's true,) when it comes to my own life this psychic ability almost always fail me miserably. (It's a shame really, i bet a lot of the aforementioned drama could be avoided if only i could use, what i like to refer to as my, 'Magic Powers,' to actually benefit myself.)

Based on this you would have thought that i'd learn to put my instincts regarding my own personal life down as just cock and bull, so when my instincts tell me that baby C is going to arrive in May i really should just ignore them.

However I have yet to learn this lesson and so with strong contractions coming thick and fast i decided on this occassion my instincts were correct and that Baby C's debut would take place pretty soon.

Jay telephoned the delivery ward at the local hospital and they told me to come straight in, so Mumma, Jay, a very sleepy Lorelei and I drove to Kettering in the middle of the night in anticipation, (and pain.)

Obviously it turned out i was fine and not in labour at all, (thank god as despite wanting my bod back i'm not quite ready for my little one to arrive just yet.) - The pains and contractions can be put down to a small infection i have, (nothing to worry about, just another delightful side effect of growing a baby) and the visit just confirmed my decision to have this baby in the comfort of my own home.

I know so many people are against the idea of a homebirth, (but trust me, if you'd been in the hospital last night you'd soon be in agreement) - I'm looking forward to it, (as much as anyone can look forward to an event that involves excruciating pain that is) - I'm gonna talk to my midwife about it tomorrow and I'll be back with the next installment of my plans for a hippy-chic, mother-earth style homebirth in no time at all!

In the meantime I am off to play with my new travel system :-)