I'd Never Trade Child Birth.....

A Woman's Great Fear

When my friend told me that giving birth to her first child was the most profoundly wonderful and empowering moment in her whole entire life, I laughed in her face, called her a sicko, and told her she was nuts. I had many friends who had given birth, I had heard the horror stories of pain like you have never experienced, babies with giant heads getting stuck and scars downstairs that never heal. Don't mention the possibility of doing a poo right there on the delivery table! That's right boys, it happens in most cases! I told her that only when my need for children overshadowed my fear of child birth, would I consider getting pregnant.

And then it happened. One day, I was late. And instead of the normal panic that I felt, a little bud of excitement was present. And when it turned out that my calculations were incorrect and Aunt Flo arrived the following evening, I cried (with both PMS and with disappointment). This is how I discovered I was finally ready!

But being ready, and realising at a later date that I was indeed pregnant, were two completely different feelings! I was over the moon excited, and slightly startled to think that now it (the baby) was in there, it definitely had to come out. Oh my! And so began the 9months of growing fear that most first time mothers feel... as that fateful day draws closer and closer.

3months before my big day arrived, my friend had her baby. I visited her the following day and she was still slightly shell shocked. But she told me that it was 'completely do-able', just that last part was tough. So I was encouraged. But that bravery left me as the day drew closer and closer and my pelvis became worse and worse. You see, I was unable to walk for the final 4months of my pregnancy, due to ligament, bone and alignment issues that were increasingly worse as time progressed. So in my mind, all I could envision was a tough labour, followed by emergency surgery because my body had literally split open and I needed to be sown back together. It was hard for me to imagine a positive experience.

But imagine my surprise when that is exactly what I got! I had been in chronic pain for some time due to my pelvis, so my threshold was already primed for intense pain. Greg and I were amused that between contractions, I was just the same old Lauren, but during contractions, I looked more and more like the ladies in the movies: groaning, throwing my head around, moving around trying to find a comfortable position.

When it was time to leave for the hospital, I was mortified to see our neighbours out the front of their house. I had been vomiting all morning, and between contractions I practically had to run down the stairs to make it before I either threw up or the next one started. Greg was amazing through the whole thing. He had two jobs - make sure I was drinking and going to the loo, and keep telling me what I great job I'm doing. He excelled at both!

I spent time in the bath at the hospital, which felt like heaven to me. Like a massive big heat pack had been placed all over my body! Aaaaah! And all of a sudden we were at the business end, things were extremely tough and then it was time to push. I had a funny moment when my midwife inspected me and said 'alright Lauren, this is going to happen very soon!', and just for clarification I said 'what is?'. She and Greg both looked at each other, slightly startled and she said in her kindest voice 'ah, you're going to have a baby Lauren, that's why you are in hospital!'. Thanks Captain Obvious! I know that! I just wanted to ensure she didn't mean okay, now you are going to get another contraction quite soon, or okay, you are going to have you baby quite soon, at least by midnight!!! (It was 4.30pm!) Low and behold, with some pushing, yelling, gas and effort, I did what I had spent the past 9 months worrying about.

And I did it all to the soundtrack of the girl in the next room, doing the same thing. She'd scream, I'd scream louder. She'd grunt, I'd grunt harder. She'd yell in frustration, I'd yell in fierce competition! And imagine my annoyance when I heard the cry of her tiny little person as they entered the world - and as I rode yet another hardcore contraction, hanging on for dear life. Finally with absolutely no restraint or control, I punched out our tiny person into the world with such force that the midwife had to throw her arm down on the bed to ensure the baby didn't slide right off the end and onto the floor! Oops!

It was, by far, the worst pain I have ever endured. I remember thinking in the bath that I felt sorry for our child, as they wouldn't have any siblings...surely I couldn't do this again! Was it hell? No, not for me. I got into my zone and focused and welcomed each contraction, knowing that it was one less I had to deal with. And Greg was amazing, staying calm and positive the whole time, believing in my capabilities.

Was it as bad as what they say? Probably. But would I do it again? In a heart beat. Because I would never trade that moment in time, knowing that I had just achieved the greatest thing I ever would. I had delivered our baby girl into the world, healthy, screaming and bright. I had done my job, my world was okay, and I could still walk. I love that day, more than any other day in my life. I cannot believe I could do such a thing and live to see the other side.

Would I want to punish my husband by sending him through the same if I could. No. I wouldn't trade that moment for the world. Not the kicking, the sleepless nights, the indigestion, the chronic pain, or the 4months of not walking. I would keep it all, to have that incredible moment to feel that I was the most powerful person I had ever met. To realised my potential as a woman at the most basic level.

  The most precious moments in the world

All the pain in the world couldn't take that away from me. Strong. Fierce. Capable. Focused. Amazing.

Ciao for now,

LG, Life's Good!

Blood Runs Thicker Than Water... Or Does It?

Who is in your tribe?

The Great Big Pa Father. Sounds like some kind of warrior name, doesn't it? Perhaps a mythical, magical beast of epic proportions. Perhaps even a name for the big guy up in the sky? Well, it's none of those things. It's my Grandpa. When Ben met him (my cousins son, aged 2) met him, they explained that Grandpa was his great grandfather, Ben declared him to be the Great Big Pa Father, and it has stuck ever since. I suppose in a way, he is the Booth tribal leader. The Great Big Pa Father (GBPF) lives on the central coast, so we don't get to see him often but my dad brought him down to QBN for a week and it was such a wonderful time! It got me thinking of how important family is, but also I wondered why.

Does it strike anyone else as strange that you are to automatically be devoted and loyal to a group of people because you have something in common with them, whether it be a health history or a name. That somehow, knowing that you come from the same bloodline makes you connected in more than just the physical sense? That because you share a common ancestor you are now assigned to a group of people for the rest of your life? Or in the case of adoption, is it simply the power of the same name?

Society tells us to be loyal to our family members above and beyond anyone else, that blood runs thicker than water. But here I am pondering if they deserve such loyalties from me. Have they always given me the same loyalty in return? Have they always loved, supported and cared for me throughout my life? And have they done this is any way that is different from my close friends, who I consider to be as good as family?

And what happens if you don't actually like your family members? Must you still be loyal if they are actually a bunch of tosses? Should you still love them and continue to be there for them, even if they abuse you, mentally, emotionally or physically?

I can be quite harsh and my perspective often swings into a black and white mode. I have 'broken up' with friends previously because I found them to be a negative force in my life. In my opinion, life is already hard enough without surrounding yourself with people who bring you down. So I moved on and left them behind. It wasn't a matter of a grudge, or forgiveness, simply that I could no longer be around them without being affected negatively by them. Probably one of the more selfish things I have ever done, but I felt like I already have to deal with enough BS without their dramas too. I have been lucky that I have never felt this way about a family member.... I'm not sure if that ultimate loyalty would prevail.

But haven't we all heard of the gay son being kicked out of home? And the racist parents disowning their daughter because she married an Pakistani man? And the child celebrity divorcing their parents so they can live however they wish? So this family loyalty can be switched off, at the right price?

I wonder what you price would be? Your husband cheating on you with your sister? Your mother using your name to obtain credit cards? Your father having another child with the girl he is dating, a girl younger than you? A family inheritance fight? Differing ways we deal with grief? A father running over his child in the driveway?

I recommend, perhaps controversially, to judge each and every person in your life based on their own merit, to ensure that you are being loyal to the right people. That the people you surround yourself with are a constant source of support and love to you, but make sure that you are offering this in return. Because like I said earlier, life is hard enough without your own tribe pulling you down.

Now I am blessed with a very close knit group of extremely compassionate, generous, loving, supportive friends who are worthy of my love and I would give them just as much loyalty as my own sister or brother. I also married into a wonderful family, whose love and acceptance I have been grateful for, and returned, since day one. I have their loyalty and they have mine.

Oh, and do I think that my own family have a little something special? Yes I do. I come from a wonderful tribe of talented, driven, happy, openly loving, supportive and insightful individuals. But I believe it is due to their own credit that they deserve all my respect, love and loyalty, not simply because we share genetics or a name. I am proud to belong to them, and proud to have them belong to me.

Here are some of my tribe last week, all getting together to say hi to the Great Big Pa Father. 

Lucy and I, my sis-in-law KJ, Dad (Lucy's Pa), my cousin Rose and her neice Olivia, my sister Jane, my cousin Vonnie (Olivia's mum), the Great Big Pa Father and my brother Mick, xoxox

I'd be interested in hearing your thoughts on this one, write a comment if a thought strikes you...and I also welcome any comments that argue a different perspective. 

Ciao for now,
LG, Life's Good!

Yes Man (Yes Chick?)

Just take a leap of faith!

You know how everyone remembers where they were on 9/11? Or when you first heard the news of Princess Di's death? Well I also remember distinctly the very moment when, out of boredom at work, I checked the news.com.au website and saw the first report of Steve Irwin's death! Now this was big news... he was a national hero/terror and everyone had something to say about it. Greg was a big fan of Steve's so when I heard the news, I called to break it to him. We still can't talk about it to this day.

For Christmas the following year, Greg got the Steve Irwin book, written by his wife Terri Irwin. She spoke of her husband as an adventurer, someone who constantly challenged her to step out of her comfort zone. I thought about this book recently because Terri says that she made a conscious choice right at the beginning of her relationship with Steve to always just say yes. By saying yes, she found she would experience the most amazing moments, laughs, excitement and joy! She could have said no, and experience an early night in bed instead but by taking each opportunity offered to her, her life took on a whole new meaning.

This attitude came into play for me a few years ago, when I travelled with Greg and 4 of our closest friends to New Zealand for (almost) 10 days. Now, Greg and I are last minute packers. When we got married, and we were to leave for our 4 week honeymoon on Monday evening, we packed on Monday afternoon. When we go to the coast for the weekend, we pack ten minutes before we leave. Granted since Lucy arrived we have to take a little longer to ensure we haven't forgotten anything for her, but it is still in the same crazy last minute style of pandemonium.

As I was madly packing toiletries 2 hours before we were supposed to leave (driving to Sydney that night and flying out first thing the following day) I realised that we only had shampoo and conditioner in big 1 litre bottles. Clearly I wasn't going to be lugging them across to NZ, so I had a genius thought! Just transfer some into these smaller bottles. First bottle, no worries. Second bottle, a little hard to get the lid off. Hmmmm, what to do! Oh! Here are some scissors, I will simply use them to just lever the lid off and OOOUCH! Aw shit! I stabbed myself right into my pointer finger on my left hand! Crapola!

I quickly wrapped a towel around it and went to find Greg for a little help. I showed him the damage and we assessed it with interest.

G: Oh, what have you done!?
L: Surely it will be okay with a band aid? It's only a tiny cut.
G: Oh, I don't know....Well, I suppose I have done worse at work over the years.
L: It doesn't hurt that bad, I'll maybe just clean it and chuck a band aid on and we can pretend it never happened?
G(skeptically): Well, okay....as long as you can bend it properly it should be fine....
L: OH GOD! I can't bend it! Oh my!!! And what is that little white worm thingy!?! Eeeeeew!

So I instructed Greg strictly to keep packing(!) and promptly drove myself up to the Emergency Room. I was fortunate...no one else was there! So straight in I went. The doctor took a look at my no longer bending finger and announced I would require surgery. 'Oh, well can I have it in 2 weeks? I am going to NZ tomorrow!' No! Apparently it was urgent and needed to be done in the next few days.

So Greg cancelled flights with doctors certificates, and we promised our friends we'd still be there as soon as we could be. And thanks to amazing action at the Canberra Hospital due to the wonderful doctor at QBN Emergency, I was operated on the following day. I felt amazing when I woke up - with some juice and a sandwich, they sent me home with some excellent pain killers and anti-inflammatories. Greg watched me like a hawk, waiting for me to flag, but I didn't. I remained sure that we should drive to Sydney that night and fly the following morning. So he booked the flights, we drive to Sydney, flew out the next morning and met our friends in NZ for our (now) 9 day holiday of a lifetime!

 Old Swannie - my cast that always created conversation

And I decided from the beginning that I wouldn't let it ruin my holiday at all. So if people were going out, I was there (not drinking, hardcore painmeds gave me my buzz). The only thing I opted not to do was the bunji jumping that 3 of my friends did. But even when I was tired, and my hand hurt, and I could have easily gone to bed, I partied on with my buddies, danced up a storm at World Bar and just loving life. We all have so many memories from that trip, and the pics are amazing...all with my funny looking 'swanlike' cast featuring. I thought of Terri Irwin, not missing out on anything because she simply said yes. So I did too, and have never regretted it for a second.

 

 As we arrived on our first night, our best friends were delighted to see my amusing cast shape, 

and wished they had one too.

I have a wicked scar on my finger now, and even after the surgery and many months of physio...it still doesn't bend. My little tribute to the incorrect use of scissors will be with me forever.

Ciao for now,
LG, Life's Good!

Old Habits Died Easy!

When I was your age....

When I was a kid, my siblings and I would play all the normal kiddie games.  Rollerskates were my favourite activity, followed by shooting netballs with Jane in the driveway and using the swing set as pretend high bars in my efforts to become the next Nadia.

I played netball for years and years - starting when I was in kindy and retiring when I was 16. I loved it. But it was netball that caused my fear of hurting myself to blossom. Every weekend up at the courts, some poor girl would be carried off to the first aid sector, with a sprained ankle, dislocated knee or jarred fingers. Of course, I had my own set of injuries from netball, as did my sister. And in the end I decided that the risk was too high. I no longer wanted to play something that could see me injured. I wish that I had just realised that sometimes when you push your body hard, it occasionally gets hurt but that is okay cause you recover and just keep going.

I'm too scared to play netball anymore.

I also excelled at swimming carnivals. Mum signed Jane and I up for swimming club on Wednesday nights - but we only went a few times, it was apparently too cold. But despite not training, I still did very well at backstroke...doing well at my school level, then zone level, then I got to go to regionals! I loved swimming too! Perhaps I could have been the next Steph Rice with a little practice?

I did Jazz Ballet as a child, and continued that off and on through my primary school years - until I grew boobs.....and was the only one in my whole class who had them. I remember in year 6, performing a dance routine with the other girls in my troupe for the whole school. And I distinctly remember being absolutely mortified at how obvious my new boobs were in my white leotard, especially amongst the other flat chested girls. I'm pretty sure I know who those little randy year 6 boys were staring at during that dance.

As an early teenage, I was highly aware of the two expanding lumps on my chest, and people constantly brought them to my attention. The was one guy at school a couple of years above me, who would always comment loudly if I ever was stupid enough to walk past him, saying horrid things like 'see that chick? Look at the size of her boobs! I wonder if she lets anyone touch them?' Yes, I can just hear you all saying 'Oh Lauren, pay him no heed. He is clearly a wanker who will probably end up in gaol'. But does that make the 13yr old Lauren feel any more confident when she walks passed? No. And what about the time I flogged a Mars Bar from Karabar Shops on my way home from a friends, and I got busted? The man approached me at the corner of the building, I thought I had gotten away with it! He suggested that if I let him touch my boobs he wouldn't dob me in. I threw the Mars in his face, told him my dad was a cop and he'd better watch himself, and ran most of the way home...in tears. Stupid boobs! Why must they be such a burden to young girls?

So I found a solution to reducing this unwanted attention. Don't wear tight fitting clothes. Don't go to Karabar. Don't walk past that dickhead at school if it could be helped. And make yourself unattractive in other ways so they don't even take a second look.

Have you ever seen an undercut? On a girl? The word sexy runs screaming from the room and in saunters the descriptions 'butch' and 'tough'. Add black hair, gothic makeup, baggy ill fitting clothes and an attitude of 'don't even think about talking to me' and my transformation was complete. How little did I realise at the time that trying to hide my boobs amongst a growing waistline was actually also increasing them in size too! Oops!

I no longer played netball. I didn't swim. I didn't dance. I stopped all my activities for reasons mostly surrounding my insecurities about my developing body, turning me into a beautiful, curvy young woman. I wish now that I had the confidence back them to realise that dickheads will come and go in your life but there is no need to give them such power over your life, changing hobbies and images to prevent attention.

Talking over the weekend, my friends and I realised the importance of teaching our children about respect. Self respect, and respect for others. It is most important to teach our young boys to respect women. And to teach our young girls to respect themselves. Yes, and to respect boys too. My parents tried their best to teach us these important qualities, but I was still a struggling teenager. Imagine how much harder it would have been without such loving parents.

Fathers, be the type of man that you want your daughter to marry, because she will look up to you and see your relationship with your spouse to be how she should be treated. Make sure you are a man who treats your partner with love, respect, loyalty, kindness and support.

Mothers, be the most self respecting woman you can be, so that your children see a strong, compassionate, healthy, loving and engaging woman that they will look up to. Your daughters will watch you and see how you are treated, how you treat yourself. And your sons will note how you allow yourself to be treated by others and will learn to treat you like that.

Live the life you want for your children... for they will watch and learn.

With the girls in music class...maybe if I slump you won't see my chest? 

Ciao for now,
LG, Life's Good!

The Imperfect Person

Pick you battles!

I have long believed that I am mostly aware of my faults. Very rarely does it come as a surprise to me if I am criticised....I might even agree. What? I am pretty emotional. Correct. I talk to much at work. Correct. I eat too much. Correct. I judge others quite harshly. Correct. I am forgetful and vague. Correct. I expect a lot of others (perhaps too much) and am disappointed when I they don't meet my expectations. Correct. And there are many more.

But what happens when you aren't aware of your faults? Should they be brought to your attention? Not everyone can hear them as willingly as some, and others in fact can be quite hurt by accusations of imperfection. Does it actually help to point out a fault that you have noticed in someone else? What are they going to do about it? Stop being that person with those faults? Try to change? Perhaps they can alter their behaviours to fix your problem. Or perhaps it is simply who they are and nothing can be done.

So here is the real question.....is it actually fair to bring to light these imperfections you have found so carefully with your Inspector Gadget looking glass, brushing over a fine-toothed comb over their behaviour because it simply isn't meeting your standards and expectations? Is it rude perhaps? Or is it simply letting them a need hasn't been met in your relationship - whether it be your spouse, mother, father, sister, brother, child or friend. What happens when you tell them that you have identified a problem (and it's them!) and nothing changes. Why don't they change dammit!!?! Because they shouldn't have to? Maybe it is that they actually can't. 

We are so busy looking at everyone else's flaws and seeing all the reasons that they aren't holding up their side of the bargain that we waste precious time waiting for them to change the very person they are. And I am not talking about which way the toilet paper is hanging or if you squeeze the toothpaste from the top or bottom. And soon your eyes may fill with so much pent up frustration and anger that you no longer see anything else.

So should you continue in a relationship waiting for them to change and becoming more and more upset when they can't? Or should you stop the relationship then and there, deciding that if your needs can't be met and you can no longer see the good in them that its better to forget it completely?

I'm pretty sure there is a whole other option - what about the option to readjust your own perspective? How about realising that you will never find a perfect partner or friend. And that actually, they might be annoyed at your faults at times too. Have a think about it. Have they changed? In most circumstances, probably not. They are still the same person you found yourself liking in the first place. Its you that has changed. Suddenly you no longer see them as perfect. Damn shame that. Because just yesterday, weren't they the ants pants? What happened?

I'll tell you what happened. Movies, TV, Books (I'm looking at you self-help section) and our limited understanding of other relationships around us, thinking that our friends and family members have it all sorted. That somehow, suddenly, we are missing something very important. It's our society. We are all so focused on what we don't have (keeping up with the Joneses) that we can't be happy and satisfied with what we do have.

Surely you can't go into a relationship expecting someone to change for you. If they don't have the same ideals, values and goals as you do, you can expect them to morph into your image of them. You have two choices. Man up and choose to leave if you can't bear it any longer. Or accept them for who they always have been. I'm not saying to stay sweet and just shut up if you have a problem....I am saying that you have chosen this person for many reasons, keep them in mind too. And pick your battles. Don't let everyday become a drag when there is so much joy, fun and love to be found in each other.  

A friend once told me that you can't expect someone to change for you....but equally you can't expect them to stay the same for your whole life either.

God knows I've changed, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. But thankfully, I am still loved.

Ciao for now,
LG, Life's Good!