On fatherhood (by alaric)

The role of the father in pregnancy and childbirth is often misunderstood. It's easy to imagine that we have it easy - the conception is a hard six hours' work, sure, and then after nine months you have an extra mouth to feed; but nothing compared to pregnancy and childbirth, right?

But there's a little more to it than that.

The thing I've found hardest, to be honest, is feeling powerless. I can carry Sarah's bags, and help her get in and out of the car, and so on, but I have to just stand there looking awkward as she winces in pain at every step. It was at its worst in the delivery room, when Jean was being born; I had been keeping myself going with Optimism and Enthusiasm as Sarah's condition declined and the number of tubes and wires connected to her rose, right up to the point when the medical stuff had a worried conversation with each other and started bringing in extra trollies full of equipment. The sight of the "crash cart" laden with defibrillator and its breathing-bag thing with a set of individually wrapped sterile airways, and a cart with surgical instruments, finally brought it home that they were seriously concerned that Sarah's heart would fail under the strain. They told me that if she died, they would try and save the baby. And all I could do was stand and wait and try not to get in the way.

Once Jean was out, it was great - I could hold her, and change nappies, and take the strain off of Sarah whiled looking after her recovery. That was far easier than just having to stand and watch.

Tomorrow at 8am we have to report to the hospital, where Jean's sibling will be extracted by planned Caesarian section. Again, I'm feeling the powerlessness... I'm rushing around getting everything ready, and making Sarah a nice meal of whatever she wants before she has to go on Nil By Mouth in preparation for the surgery, and laying out everything needed for Sarah's parents to look after Jean; ticking the last things off of lists, checking and cross-checking preparations. I'm surrounding myself in hyperactivity, because I know there's not actually all that much more I can do that will actually make a difference.

Glass Bones (by sarah)

This is the other poem - tomorrow I have my pre-opp - Friday I get my baby and then the pain will matter less.

Glass Bones

A glass pelvis
Loose at the seams
My own pain apocolypse
Drenched in crises
Drowning in agonies
Each step a razor blade
Cutting into the fabric of me
Misalined, broken, bent
A pelvic shard
Shatters in muffled screams
Crying in the night
Fragile
Walking burns
Dwindling the memory
Sensation a shade
Of grey nothing
Dampening thought
Punctured, pierced
By electric blue
Fizzing of the tail bone
A primate with glass bones
Can no longer climb trees
Nor hold onto the top branches
To which they once clung
The fruits of life
Are within those branches
Instead
Sitting Pain
Standing PaiN
Sleeping PAiN
Sensation PAIN
Separeted Pelvis
Pubis synthesises
Gurdle stretched and broke
Aches and daggers
Dragging down
ME
Whinning of the glass rim
I do not drink of this misery
Just listen
Pelvis sing
Glass siren lurring
Monsters of the Id
All nasty qualities
Are distorded within

The Fear (by sarah)

Coming up to this little ones birth my mind has turned itself inside out with the memories of what happened before with Jean - it keep from overly panicking I have written a couple of poems which make me cry but I think are over all helpful at least to me.

The Fear

Before you were born
The Fear began
Blood marked anxiety
Over your future
Later it grabbed me
By the Lungs
As they injected me
To develop your
So if I died
You could be plucked
Not ready but surviable
Death was a shadow over us
Labour dawned
With complications
A room bristled
With activity
I could say nothing
Just scream
Silently - SAVE MY BABY
Intervention, blood, pain
You were there
And I could speak
Whispering softly
Too Daddy
'Go with the Baby'
His worried eyes boring
Into me

The Fear did not go
They placed you on me
And I sang a grace
'Thankyou'
Thankyou for my
Cone headed, alien-primate
My bueatiful monkey
Ancient and New
In the crib with you
The Fear tingled
As it still does
I check you each night
Even now
As often as I could then
Holding my breath
Checking yours

And as you grow
The Fear
Punctuates my thoughts
The less lickely to choke
The more you run off
Into the world
Of dangers
Fear constricts my mind
But I can not restrain you
Killing out of kindness
Out of Fear
Is still killing
Including the mind death
Stiffling the life
I watch you run
Explore

This is what love
Has wrought me?
This Fear
Fear of loosing you
And yet I would not undo
Would not exchange
The Fear
I would suffer more
For you
My little one
You grow
Grow strong and free
Maybe my fear
Is your blanket
Of protection
Innoculation against
The bad places?
I hope so
What else are
Parents for?

The Glass Pelvis (by sarah)

Through my tears and the creation of a dark transient poem I have hit upon the concept of writing a self-help/how to survive book on chronic pain and truma during and pregnancy, child birth and the after math. It would be called the Glass Pelvis. Arrogant? Probably - something that's needed definatly.

I slipped over yesterday which would have been pain full for anyone as pregnant as me but with the seperated pelvis - I could not speak for the tears of pain. This have been quiet bad pain wise as I have had a mini pain flare up with my left arm anyway which sucks as it has ment no proper writing and no guitar practice for about a week now.

Chronic pain has many books on it - but seperated pelvises are relatively new thing in medicine. A great increase has been seen in the last ten years - I have my theories on this involving modern live style and gyms not getting to the right areas that women need strengthened and modern diet with it's additives and loss of various things like sea food.

You see I am on the crutches and it is an issue but I am not anywhere near the state I was in with Jeany and looking at how things like gestational diebetes come about I feel that management of such conditions as the 'broken pelvis' are important. Especially as it can lead to complications and more truma for both mother and child.

Now there was nothing avalible for me when I had Jean and everybody seemed quiet confused over the whole thing. I have been told this time round that even the physios are now giving up with the condition.

So I want to share what I went through, to aliviate some of the isolation that mothers in this sort of position suffer. Of course I also had lots of other things from the miscarriage stuff, to the blood clots to the pre-clampsia and pregnancy induced hyper tension. Even being in the hospital when the bombs went off in London. I think with research and checking with medical people I could produce a good guide to mother who don't have it easy.

Separeted Pelvis is termed symphysis pubis dysfunction or SPD and having seen the result of being not allowed out of bed with Jean's pregnancy (due to blood clots and what not!) I have been desperate to keep my mobility up what ever the pain levels (once I'd checked that there was no danger of baby popping out!). I have interesting comparisions but then this pregnancy has been managed much better - the only issue is that a) the pelvic pain never completely went away from Jeany and b) due to issues I've had I've had a body pumped full of pregnancy hormones on some level for well over a year now meaning that the pelvis has been far more mobile than expected.

The truth is that I didn't now that I would end up on crutches again before the baby was born - becuase I was bed and wheel chair for the last half of Jean's pregnancy the pelvic issues were only found after the birth and was told that it was from the childbirth because of an old back injury and a large baby but they have said this is wrong and it is the hormone levels and stuff. This was a bit of a blow for us but hey I can still walk (with crutches) in the week when my baby is due!

I think the main issue with producing such a book will be that I don't know what a 'normal' pregnancy and labour is like. And even the c-section is going to be interesting on the recovery side of things due to walking with crutches etc...

My mood is fragile at the moment due to the pain I'm in but what is actually concerning me is that after Jean was born I was bunged in a side room at Harold Wood with no one to talk too and depending on shifts was not even given water to drink! (resulting in dehydration and my milk drying up and me then having to suppliment and work hard at getting the milk back again!). People have said it's not like that here but the fear of hospitals is still nagging at me - I am concerned as to what is going to happen to my mood when I get the post birth hormone crash and a hospital stay. I'm hoping that I will just know how to cope with it better this time.

So in some ways I think this is going to be a self help project as well.

Me and My Guitar! (by sarah)

Ok here are some pics of me and the purple sparkly electric guitar :) It is a Vintage and if it had been bought new it would have been hundreds of pounds! And I would have had to hit Al on the head for buying it! As it is repairing the damage it got in transit would cost more than three times the sort of money he paid!

Only thing is please bare in mind that I am like ready to drop the sprog in these photos so am a little on the erm... large size! Also these are posed photos from before we got the string for it so I'm not actually playing.

Dad got a string for it today and I have tied ribbon onto it as a strap until I extract my existing strap from my brother - I then played it until my fingers got sore - making about with the nobs and what not - I got an OH YEAH! sound out of it - unfortunatly the only things I can play really well at the more are nursery rhymes so we had a rock version of Goosey Goosey Gander ;)

I tried out some Guns and Roses and Nivana on it too - just to check you know ;) I haven't a clue what I am doing with it and thin Come As You Are actually sounds better on my old battered acoustic!

I think I am in love.... droool - I think I may make up my own musical genre too. When I have the Purple Vin in my hands I magically transform into Bubble Gum Goth!!!! a.k.a. the Happy Mosher who has not been seen for a few years but is still lurking around ;)