On Angus, on live-baby motherhood, on 2009 and a flower blooms

I really should get around to writing that birth story. It has been six weeks now and details are starting to get fuzzy and I'm sure some people are possibly starting to get curious as to how it all unfolded and how we got him here safe and sound. But the more time that moves on, the more I realise the birth part is not important. For nine months, it most certainly was. And the day before he was born, when my ob scheduled the c-section due to Angus being very large, high, not engaged and my cervix not cooperating, it was the most important event of my life. But now that he's here, safe and sound, I realise it doesn't matter how he got here. He's just here.

Sure, part of me still wishes I got to push him out and I probably have a small dose of c-section regret. I still would love to know what it feels like to push out a real live baby, but hopefully that can be part of my future. We'll see I guess.

So for anyone not wanting to hear about life with a live baby after a dead baby, probably best to stop reading here. I know it can be tough and I know there are so many out there desperate to get where I am.

Angus is asleep right now. In his most favourite position - lying on Simon's chest. We are having trouble putting him down to sleep anywhere. He might get an hour here or there during the day in the pram, but he mostly only sleeps while being held. We gave up on the basinette of an evening some weeks ago, as he didn't like it and we were up and down all night and frustrated as all hell. We hadn't intended to be a co-sleeping family, but that's exactly what we are now. People shake their heads, judge and tell us we're creating bad habits, but we don't really care. We are doing what feels right and if he sleeps and we sleep, then that is the main thing.

We think he is mostly troubled by a bit of reflux. Hard to know whether to wait it out, see if he grows out of it, medicate, or buy one of the six bazillion gadgets out there that claim to help. Our heads are spinning, but we'll fumble through.

So far, my little boy has been fully breastfed, but not without our share of dramas - and pain. I can finally say though, that after six weeks, it is getting much easier and I am so glad I toughed it out and persisted, as I could have given it up a thousand times. It has been worth all the blood, sweat and tears - and there has been a lot of it! I nourished him perfectly well for nine months inside of me, now I can continue to do that for him on the outside. And that feels good.

He's putting on a lot of weight, though he was slow to start after dropping a bit of weight while we were still in hospital. He's now up a size in clothing and really filling out. And when we have to hold him all day, you really feel that weight in your arms. But what a joy that is.

The witching hour, as they call it, seems to last a lot longer than an hour around these parts. Angus is particularly unsettled of an evening and generally the only way to please him is to feed. I just feed and feed and feed for a few hours, until he finally nods off then I go to bed while Simon sits up with him for a few hours before bringing him in to me to feed. Again. Part of me wonders if his fussiness is karmic payback for what I like to call GDO, or, Gross Doppler Overuse. I'm sure there is a study out there somewhere that says the overuse of Dopplers or ultrasounds can lead to a particularly cranky kid.

The hard days here have been particularly hard. None harder than the day Simon had a car accident. Yes, a car accident. And not in our car. In a borrowed car to allow us to put our car on the market so we could buy a new one. Long story, but he's fine. It was a small accident with a very large truck. He was pushed across two lanes of traffic, in to the traffic island in the middle of the road, inches away from oncoming traffic. Simon was thankfully fine. Angus and I waiting back home, were not. You know when you just get a feeling something really shit has happened. And I had a feeling. When I called to ask Simon what was taking so long (he was out picking up a breast pump from a friend of mine) I was pretty much beside myself. But the car has been fixed so alls well that ends well.

I said on Angie's blog the other day that grief for our lost babies is relentless, but so is caring for a newborn. This however, is a relentless I can get used to. I am loving that he needs me so much, as overwhelming as it is.

Just on myself - I still feel like I don't fit in. I still feel like other mothers look at me like I don't belong. Obviously they don't, as they have no idea of my story, but I just don't feel a part of it all. Yesterday we took Angus out shopping for the day and I finally got to see behind the doors of the mother/baby rooms at the shopping centre. Those rooms have always been such a mystery to me. I sat in there and breastfed my little boy and ended up on a couch all by myself, with three other mums on another couch feeding their babies. They all chatted amongst themselves while I sat there in silence. Suited me though, I don't want to do small talk. Then at the maternal and child health centre a few days back, getting Angus weighed, there were three other mums there with babies, but all had a toddler with them as well. That was the life we were supposed to have. It was so brutal for me to get a real life picture of exactly how it could have and should have been for us. When I'm those situations, surrounded by other mums, I try and give off my best "please don't talk to me" vibes, but it doesn't always work. One of the mums at the health centre asked me if Angus was my first, and I told her. The truth. Thankfully she kept asking questions and seemed to "get it" on some level. Her first born, who was there with her, was born at 24 weeks so I know she'd been through her own version of hell as well.

In this part of the world, in less than 12 hours it will be 2010. Hard to believe. Also hard to know what to make of 2009. It wasn't the worst year of our lives, at least I don't think, and its hard to know whether it was the best. I guess it was, with the birth of our second child. But where does that leave 2008? The birth of our first child and the year that held the most joyous and happy pregnancy imaginable? It is fair to say, Angus' pregnancy wasn't a thing like Hope's was. Not even close. But he's here and he's alive and he's given our lives meaning and direction again.

I also couldn't leave here today without mentioning my good friend Sarah, who yesterday gave birth to Sunflower, her second child, a little boy who they named Micah Amir. A brother for her precious first born Ezra. Sarah is very special to me, and to Angus. In fact, she was the first to learn of Angus after Simon. The pee stick was barely dry but it was about 4am and too early to call my mum or sister, so I jumped online and Sarah, who knew I was taking the test was there to chat. So I was thrilled beyond belief last night to learn that Micah had made his way safely in to the world, in to his mum and dad's waiting arms.

The birth of Micah was a great way to end 2009, and indeed this decade. A decade where we experienced more pain and more joy than we ever thought possible. A decade that for us produced two babies. A son and a daughter. The loves of our lives.

Happy new year everyone.