The Twins Birth Story - Part 3

Continued on from Part 1 here and Part 2 here

Once my waters broke, things really started to kick off.

My original plan was to order the epidural immediately upon arrival at the hospital but the thought of the epidural extending my labour encouraged me to labour naturally for as long as I could handle it. 
Seemingly out of nowhere {within about thirty minutes} around 3 contractions were coming in each 10 minute window and growing increasingly stronger. It wasn't too long before I was shouting from the rooftops 'get the epidural NOW!'

Roberto my saviour anaesthetist arrived pretty quickly and was very good at his job - not only because he arrived quickly and ensured the epidural was precise {he wasn't entirely happy with his first effort so went back for round two} but mostly because he mentioned that I was 'skinny and fit' ... Pretty powerful and encouraging words when you're not feeling your most glamourous. 

Epidural was working its magic before too long but at my next check I'd only progressed to 4cm so on advice from the team I was put on the syntocin drip to help with progression. 

Around 11pm the lovely team organised a fold out bed for Pat and within minutes he was asleep. Once the drip had started I was also encouraged to get some rest and was advised they would check dilation around 5am. 

It's seriously hard to sleep, let alone rest with machines and cords hanging from you {with one attached to twin 1's head} and constant monitoring from the midwives. The doctor popped in multiple times as well and there was a lot of discussion and study of the CTG output.

Unknowns to me {thank you epidural}, I was getting up to 6 contractions in 10 minutes and twin II's heart rate was sitting dangerously high around 180-190bpm and she was moving around like crazy. Naive me thought more contractions meant quicker progress and that I'd get to meet my babies sooner. Once the midwives explained that that an ideal number is around 3 or 4 contractions every 10 minutes and anything higher means the baby doesn't have time to rest, I really did start to get anxious. 

I was running through scenarios of what was going to happen and it wasn't helping with the panic I could feel creeping in rapidly.

Would I have to have a caesarean for one baby?

For both babies?

Is Twin II in danger? 

All of this ensued while Pat was still asleep.

The resident doctor Jess who was lovely ensured me that everything was okay and was trying to problem solve before calling in the consultant who generally only makes an appearance for the birth. She wasn't overly keen on waking him without really trying to determine herself what was making twin II so distressed. By this stage the syntocin had been turned off and completely flushed out.

For what felt like hours the CTG was studied until ... light bulb moment!

Jess said let's see if you've magically dilated to 10cm - literally hours before they expected me to. 

BINGO. 

We've all ignored or forgotten about the simple solution first in a range of situations so I wasn't bothered that I wasn't checked earlier - just relieved that we had an answer. 

It seemed my body just needed a little hit of the drug to really get things going and by little, really little. I later found out initially the drip was set to release 1ml then 2ml and then back down to 1, completely turned off and then flushed out. The maximum that it can be turned up to is 32!

Pat woke to the news of 'it's time to push' and basically avoided all the drama. The midwives were so supportive throughout that I didn't feel the need to wake him earlier and stress both of us out. 

Now I felt scared. Pushing meant that we were going to have not one, but two babies soon. But it also meant I had to push and given my two hour pushing experience with Ned, I wasn't excited about it at all. 

My pushing was good and progress was being made quickly but the team asked permission to use a vacuum to expedite delivery for twin I so we could get twin II out as quickly as possible. Six minutes of pushing and twin I was out at 3:21am weighing 2.285kgs.

A quick examination and ultrasound confirmed that twin II was in a breech position and we had a 10-15 minute window to get her out. Once it gets past that time period an emergency c-section may be required so I pushed as hard as I could. Twin II was out safely at 3:34am after 13 minutes of pushing and entered the world bum first complete with her first poo on the outside world. She weighed 3.205kgs.

She was quickly whisked away to the team of doctors and the birth report details she was resuscitated due to severe asphyxia/respiratory distress. I was kind of oblivious to the drama and then didn't really even get to see her for hours afterwards as she was moved to the special care nursery attached to the CPAP machine. I felt comforted knowing she was in safe hands and still had to birth the placenta/s.

I only birthed one placenta even though I was expecting to birth two so we assume the two placentas fused together in the womb or pregnancy scans were interpreted incorrectly and there really only was one. We may get DNA testing in the future but we are pretty certain they are not identical.  

Twin 1 who we named Frankie stayed with me for some time for skin to skin and feeding and then joined her sister Evie in the special care nursery.

We spent four nights in the special care nursery {Evie was on CPAP and antibiotics for two days} and both girls were admitted due to their size. The nurses were wonderfully supportive and the stay was made that little bit better because I had my own room back on the ward. 

The girls were born on Tuesday and we got to go home on Saturday.

  

Then the fun started...

The Twins Birth Story - Part 2

Continued on from Part 1 - read here

Was I surprised I was only 3cm and not really in active labour? Actually, I was kind of happily surprised I was even 3cm - I assumed I would have only been 1cm given my pretty 'normal' state. As the midwife was continuing on with her assessment we were told that I'd probably be advised to go home and play the waiting game and thus all hope that my wishful thinking was working was diminished.

Just as the examination was finishing and I'd been delivered my disappointing news, the midwife removed her hand and exclaimed that it looked like the resulting discharge was too great a quantity to not be my waters.

Wait, what?!

You see, earlier we'd been chatting about her just 'accidentally' breaking my waters - well it wasn't so much of a chat - it was more of a request from me with the promise of keeping it top secret.

But no. My lovely midwife politely refused my request and I was left wondering if I should have asked for a different caregiver.

Damn ethics.

But seriously, what a coincidence. 

One second we're faced with the prospect of returning home and literally the next, it was GO time.

The midwife had not yet confirmed that my waters had broke and instead let me to go freshen up. As I got off the bed and walked the few steps to the toilet there was no doubt that indeed my waters had broken. A stream of liquid ran down each leg in a kind of surprising, hilarious event as I didn't experience that in my first labour.

We knew then that we would be meeting our princesses soon.

To be continued ...

The Twins Birth Story - Part I

When I found out I was pregnant with twins, I cried.

Hysterically.

Not happy tears.

disbelief and terror an hour or so after finding out {12 weeks + 5 days}

It took some time to come to grips with the reality but as time went on I began to become excited about twins.

Superficially I also was excited that I wouldn't have to endure a "full-term" pregnancy like I did with Ned who was four days over. My naivety led me to believe that all twins were born early - ideally around the 36 week mark.

But as that day approached, and disappeared, I was quite happy that they were still safe and secure in the confines of my belly and that they would come out when they were ready. Plus, I was totally again, naive, about special care requirements for babies born early.

Yet again my mindset changed when I was given an induction date. It was to be the night before I was 38 weeks meaning I would more than likely give birth bang on 38 weeks pregnant.

That spurred me on to get them out sooner and not have to go through the induction process. Last pregnancy I tried some of the ways that are supposed to naturally induce labour - a ridiculously hot vindaloo curry {never again}, long walks, and even the deed. Clearly none of those methods worked so this time around I didn't bother researching what else I could try via Dr Google.  Instead, I remained active throughout the whole term {for many weeks this meant barefoot group fitness classes} and hoped that that, combined with wishful and positive thinking might convince the twins to come out sooner, and without intervention.

The Sunday night before my planned Wednesday evening induction was spent mostly awake and restless. I had myself convinced that 'this was it' but when it all basically subsided on Monday I was left disappointed and thinking that induction was a certainty. Throughout the day I was in a bit of a bi-polar state wanting to rest and then wanting to keep busy and active in the hopes of getting the labour going. By late afternoon and really with nothing worse than period pain I'd been texting my student midwife and we both agreed that I should at least go up to birth suite to see where I was at. I think even then I was over exaggerating my symptoms.

My birth plan as organised with the team of obstetricians at the hospital was a natural birth with a planned epidural. We had discussed going to the hospital whenever I felt like I was in labour to make sure that twin I was still in a head down position, and suitable for a vaginal delivery, and to get the epi organised early so I didn't really have to endure too much pain.

We arrived at birth suite around 7:30pm after calling through a couple of hours earlier and I'm sure the team thought it was a joke that we were even there. Even I knew that I was not in active labour showing absolutely no signs of discomfort and felt like a bit of a fraud being there but I just wanted to be in labour {remember the aforementioned wishful thinking}

Regardless of my {non-active labour} state we were admitted into a room and left to chat, listen to the football on the radio and bounce like a crazy woman on the exercise ball trying to get things going. Again, the midwives could see I wasn't really in any pain and after around an hour or so they examined me to see where I was at.

Three centimetres and early labour was the news.

To be continued ...

{Not} High {Enough} Maintenance

I had the pleasure of spending the afternoon at a dear friend's baby shower and the word Gorilla was mentioned creating quite the conversation.

Living on the Sunshine Coast and being surrounded by quite the room of free-spirited Noosa folk you may expect that the conversation had led to the topic of Australia Zoo or palm oil but you'd be far from right.

In fact it was the word a friend used to describe her pubes prior to multiple rounds of laser treatment in response to asking if, at the start of treatment if her nether-hair was sparse.

So naturally, we started talking about the not-so-natural removal of hair-down-there.

I used to see a gorgeous Italian mama and her daughter for all of my waxing back in my Toowoomba days who stressed the importance of maintaining a hair-free baby exit route not only for hygiene but also out of respect for the doctors and midwives who most certainly would not want to see your short and curly's. So in taking their advice I travelled the nearly three hours back to my hometown three weeks or so before Ned was born to make myself presentable. It was the least painful Brazilian I had ever had but to date, it has also been my last. Nothing like ending on a high {or is that low?} I say.

You see, my sister had told me of a Braz experience here on the coast where they basically told her to lift her skirt up, take her undies off, and before you could say rip, rip, wood chip they were done. After having such nurturing and careful waxes in the past {still effing painful as hell} I have not been able to trust anyone here to go anywhere near my vagina with hot wax.

So for the last three years, it's been very infrequent and varied maintenance for me - kind of like my house cleaning regime.

1. The DIY Wax Job where the application is way easier than the reality of having to rip it off yourself.
   Several alternative wax removal methods not recommended on the box have been attempted, including, but not limited to:
• drowning waxed area with quantity of water equivalent to Sydney Harbour to see if wax magically falls or melts off
• leaving wax on in the hope that the wax and your undies will form an unbelievable relationship and subsequent breakup in your sleep and like magic, you'll be hair free in the morning 
2. The 'Honey, Can You Bring me the Scissors' Job where your disposable razor just ain't gonna cut it {literally} ... Note to self: buy pube-trimming scissors for such occasions.
3. The Nutbush City Limits Job where the only maintenance required is to ensure that nothing is hanging outside of your undies or swimmers - this doesn't even necessarily have to mean hair removal just hair placement. 

My pregnancy maintenance has been pretty much non-existent till yesterday when I started to think about the multiple medical professionals that will be present at the birth of the twins. Hubby was at work so I didn't have easy access to the aforementioned pube scissors so my only option was to use the stainless steel shower mixer as a pseudo mirror to assess the situation and begin stage one demolition.

Perhaps I should have sought a chainsaw manufacturer to sponsor this post? 

The Birth Story - Part III (The Finale)

Even though I was aware it was coming, I was in shock when the midwife said it was go time. I think the realisation that we were about to meet the little human that had been growing inside me for the last nine months really hit. By this stage I was exhausted; pain free but the most tired I have ever been in my life. I really was a little concerned that I wouldn't be able to push ‘properly’ given that I had no feeling whatsoever basically from my sternum down to my toes. The next contraction came, and whilst lying on my side I was instructed to push. Helen the midwife was providing great encouragement and giving me confidence that I was indeed pushing down in the right place and also providing enough oomph to get the baby down and out. The first couple of contractions were good – I felt tired but strong enough to concentrate on what I had to do. As the time and contractions went on though, my energy levels started to fade dramatically. By this stage I had been at the hospital in birth suite number five going on twelve hours, and could barely stay awake. I can vividly remember during one of the contractions (where I was encouraged to do five big push-till-you-run-out-of-breath pushes) forgetting who I was, what I was doing and basically losing consciousness. I was delirious and wasn't sure I’d be able to push the little man out but perked up when the word caesarean was mentioned due to the amount of time I’d been at it. A few more contractions passed and we were told that he was a big one and had a good amount of hair. I was so surprised and proud of trainee daddy. He had always joked that he would be waiting in the hallway during the labour and would come in and have his photo taken when the baby was out and had been cleaned up. Instead, I noticed (in the few odd times I had my eyes open) that he was down the ‘business’ end checking out what was happening as well as providing great support and praise during the pushes. The pushing was tough – I’m sure a few more frown lines were engrained in my forehead from the exertion expelled over that hour and a half. It was giving me a headache which was distracting me so I told trainee daddy to put a pillow over my face. He did say when a new person walked in to the room they were slightly confused why my ‘support partner’ was seemingly suffocating me. My pushes were from a combination of lying on my side and a sort of supported vertical squat. I was given the opportunity to view what was going on downstairs by looking into a mirror placed under the ‘exit’ but politely declined the offer; or maybe I gave a horrified ‘no thanks’ reply. Even if I did want to see the progress/hair/head, I did not have the energy (or my glasses/contacts) to focus. 

After about an hour of pushing, the doctor mentioned that she may need to perform a vacuum delivery if I wasn't able to get the baby round that final bend as he was becoming distressed due to the amount of time it was taking (we later found out he was very close to having to be sent to Brisbane). The pushing was not working as effectively as required because bub was in a very awkward position to make his way through and down the final hurdle. The doctor and midwife did say my pushes ordinarily would have been more than sufficient to push a baby out who was in a normal position. Unfortunately, this baby was not in a normal or ideal position.  Being the overly competitive person that I am that ‘threat’ really spurred me on. Over the next few contractions I believe my pushes were a thousand times more effective and I believed that I might have been able to avoid the vacuum. Unfortunately though time and exhaustion got the better of me and the doctor attached the vacuum to the baby’s head. 

Before I knew it ‘congratulations’ were being thrown around the room. With the epidural I did feel the sensation of the baby coming out (and also when my waters were broken hours earlier) but did not feel any pain or feeling. This means I didn't know that I had done what all women are afraid of doing (yes, my husband saw my poo (he didn't want me to include that) and also didn't know that I had ‘torn’ (second degree). When the baby was shown to me I honestly thought he looked like a fat Asian baby or very much like his dad’s uncle Paul. His head was extremely big and his cheeks were huge. He was whisked over to the table to be attended to by the paediatrician as he had swallowed some of the meconium (his own poo) in the womb and was having a little trouble breathing. That five or ten or fifteen minutes went by so slowly. The other doctor was down at my end stitching me up and telling me who knows what. I was too shaken, exhausted and worried that I failed to really listen to anything she was saying. After the placenta was born (with the help of the injection to make it come quicker) the little human was brought over to me and placed on my chest. It was a surreal moment – very foreign. He did make his way to the boob to have his first feed and then just lay there for some time. 

Once he fell back to sleep I was able to have a sleep too. Trainee daddy took this photo – I think it shows just how zonked out we both were.

I really don’t know how safe it is to let such a worn out new mum (and dad) look after such an important little thing after such an ordeal. I can’t remember what we did or didn’t do in those next few hours in the birth suite but we survived. I was able to have a shower about three or four hours after he was born (I was still pretty numb but my legs were strong enough) and that was one of the best showers of my life. We then made our way down to the ward to start the next part of the journey – looking after a newborn. 

The Birth Story - Part II

So, where was I? Oh yea, wanting the pain gone. 

The midwife popped back in to check on me and I pleaded for the epidural. I don’t know how many times I apologised to my husband and the midwife for failing but it was quite a few times. I tell you what, if you decide to get an epidural, don’t expect it to happen immediately; be prepared to wait. First, the anaesthetist is notified and you are put on some sort of list – a list which doesn't appear to be prioritised based on how you are coping or not coping. Unfortunately it appears the anaesthetist isn't too concerned about your immediate need for pain relief – they come when they’re ready. Then the dude who puts the needle in your hand to connect your drip has to come. The midwife laid out a pile of needles and paraphernalia for him and I lay on my side with my eyes tightly shut attempting to breathe through the contractions. I think at that stage the idea that the pain would be gone soon enough was pain relief enough. I don’t know what that dude did or how he did it but fifteen or so minutes later I was that much closer to being pain free – all prepped and ready for a ginormous needle to be inserted in a very specific part of my back. Maybe an hour later my saviour arrived – the epidural lady. I’m sure I would have been more alert and responsive if Dr Patrick Reed had arrived but was happy enough with the young lady dressed in blue. I was sat up on the side of the bed and told in no uncertain terms how important it was that I kept completely still and was also notified of all the risks associated with epidural. For a split second I thought holy shit should I really get this needle given what can happen? That thought was gone before it even really eventuated. Keeping completely still is all good in theory except that your contractions don’t magically stop the minute you utter the words ‘I want an epidural’. Superhuman restraint must have taken over as I think I did pretty well to play statues during the insertion of the biggest needle you ever did see. As the epidural lady left I professed my love for her and was excited at the thought of the horrible pains fizzing out. I had no real expectation of what the epidural would do and in the hours to come it completely surpassed my expectations. The epidural was in and started to take effect around two thirty in the morning – probably around twelve hours since I’d really starting feeling it and maybe around three hours after I was in what they deem as active labour. Syntocinon which helps you dilate was also pumped in through my drip at the lowest dose to help the labour progress. After about an hour the full effect of the drug is supposed to be felt but I was still feeling somewhat painful feelings and let the midwife Kay know. The lovely lady increased my hourly dosage from the standard 6ml per hour to 10ml per hour.  The 10ml an hour dosage was AMAZING – I couldn't feel a thing. Unfortunately I couldn't get any sleep throughout the rest of the labour as the doctor and the midwife were in and out constantly reviewing my ECG graph and checking on the amount of blood that I was losing. The concern was that perhaps the blood loss was from my placenta which may have resulted in an emergency c-section. The other explanation for the blood loss was from my cervix which had had some treatment on it many years ago. They were pretty certain that it was from my cervix and let the labour progress. The syntocinon was later turned off as my body was actually dilating naturally – from six to nine cm. Given how long I’d been dilating, the syntocinon was turned back on to finish my dilation in preparation for pushing. 

For quite some time I was in euphoria – professing my love to the inventor of the epidural (and saying it was even better than cruise control) and talking a whole pile of other smack – I’m sure of which most of it was completely gobbeldy gook. I thought I was quite the comedian given my exhaustion. At one stage I said something along the lines of ‘if I tried to get up right now I would be like (insert Forrest Gump accent here) Lieutenant Dan’. Trainee Daddy reckons all the people in the room (of which there were a few) had no idea what I was talking about. At some stage of the morning there was a midwife shift change. A lovely British lady named Helen took over and one of the first things she checked was my numbness. Maybe my euphoria was a little too OTT. She was a little surprised when I had no real feeling right up to around my lungs. She turned the epidural down from 10ml to 9ml which was fine with me as it didn't make any difference. I was still totally in love with the epidural but also getting quite exhausted. I’d been focusing some much on the holy grail of 10cm that I’d forgotten that I actually had to push this baby out. Before I knew it (well not really – I’d been in birth suite number 5 for many hours) Helen said ‘it’s time to push’.

Yep, you know it – To Be Continued …

To read part I go here.

The Birth Story - Part I

For those of you who are offspring fans, this birth story is nothing like the somewhat lovely five minute labour that Nina endured.

It was a Thursday and four days past my due date. I had started feeling feelings a little different to any niggles I had already felt throughout the last few weeks of my pregnancy and wondered if this was it. To encourage these feelings along just in case they were the real deal, I decided a little boog-ay Sh’Bam style with my favourite group fitness instructor was in order. Throughout the class the ‘feelings’ continued (some of them a wee bit uncomfortable) and I returned home with more enthusiasm for exercise (or perhaps enthusiasm at the thought of meeting my little man) so took my dog for a walk. This was all done and dusted by 11am. Trainee daddy returned home from work around 2pm and I was pretty certain that something was happening. I trialled a combination of heat packs and hot showers to ease the pain but four hours or so later we decided a trip to the hospital was in order even though we expected to be sent home to wait it out for a bit longer. Being my first time I just wanted to know if this was it, which would then give me some perspective of what I had to look forward to should be expecting. I was asked if I wanted an examination to see where I was at and jumped at the chance but was also a little hesitant in case these feelings were not labour. An examination revealed I was only 1cm dilated so the midwife did a stretch and sweep to keep things moving. We returned home at around 8:30pm and I hopped straight back in the shower. Ten minutes later the hot water ran out!!! It was the best form of pain relief at that stage and it was gone. Half an hour or so later (when the heat pack was not helping one bit) we rang the hospital and told them we were coming back. I needed to use their hot water as I knew I wouldn’t have been far enough along for extra pain relief. The shower at the hospital was not one hundred percent fantastic due to the regulated temperature and pathetic water pressure but a pretty good option to dull out the pain. I’d been in the shower for quite a while (hello prune lady) and wanted to try something else. Our plan (we didn’t have a birth plan) was to move up the spectrum of pain relief when and if it was needed. The gas did nothing for me – I found breathing deeply through the contractions worked better for me. Oh, that and performing some sort of hybrid rain dance/sumo wrestler warm up routine whenever a contraction was happening. The contractions were coming pretty regularly (two to three minutes) lasting around a minute and were pretty darn intense. A second internal examination revealed I was a ‘good’ 3cm dilated but found out bub’s head was arching back into my pelvis meaning the contractions were a lot more painful than normal at this stage (if you can label any labour ‘normal’). I was having terrible pains in my lower front and back and the midwife on duty suggested I try a new form of pain relief that has only been available for a short time (sterile water injections) to try and combat my back pain. Trainee daddy and I had heard about these at our ante-natal class and there were mixed opinions about their effectiveness. In the end I was happy to try anything and in came the doctor. I was propped up on my knees leaning over the bed and prepared myself for the needles – four of them. 

Well at least I thought I was prepared. 

Four needles were inserted in my back (two each from the doctor and the midwife) and before I knew it, four of the loudest and high pitched squeals you ever would hear exited my body and filled the birth suite. I tell you what … if anyone else was considering those injections at that time my screams definitely would have put them off. Those needles EFFING STUNG. HOLY MOLEY I cannot even explain the pain that those things inflicted on me. They did take the edge off the pain for about an hour but it did wear off. At that stage my body and my head had given in. I told the husband that I wanted an epidural. He initially thought we should ask the midwife about the next-in-line pain relief option – pethidine but I didn’t want to take the edge off the pain; I wanted the pain gone.

To Be Continued …

The Waiting Game

The waiting game sucks. At thirty nine weeks and three days I'm well and truly over it. Each night I go to sleep hoping and praying that I am woken up by a massive contraction (yes I am wishing pain upon myself) or by an usually wet feeling in the bed that has been unfamiliar for quite some time (apart from the time sometime in high school when I work up from a dream where I was peeing and well you can guess the rest).

I'm in a facebook group of ladies who are due in August (formed from the bubhub site) and quite a few babies have already been born. These babies are already with us due to conditions like preeclampsia, gestational diabetes and high blood pressure. I've had amazing test results and scans throughout my whole pregnancy and really should be super happy about that but can't help but feel a little jealous of those mummies who already have met their little offspring. It's kinda like when you're driving around the shopping centre looking for a park that quite clearly doesn't exist and thinking to yourself that you wish you were disabled. Totally irrational but at least you'd have a park right (and close to the entrance).

If you ask trainee daddy he'll tell you I'm cranky and emotional and I wouldn't at all disagree. I had a spat at him this morning as he wanted to snooze the bloody alarm three times (I am not a snoozer) and it resulted in a small tearie. Then the waterworks returned in the meditation section of the body balance class I went to later in morning (at the thought that this little human seems quite happy where he currently lives).
Luckily I was able to keep the tears and sniffles contained and noone in the class could have guessed that the crazy heavily-pregnant lady up the back was having an emotional meltdown.

After an afternoon of TV watching and a bit of a snooze the crazy lady has taken a back seat and the slightly less crazy lady has concocted this little ditty. Thanks for listening.

P.S. Couldn't resist sharing these images of my niece who turned one yesterday (taken by another proud aunty of hers)

A~LA NAT~U~RAL

In the last 4 days the husband and I have been bombarded with information regarding ripe cervixes, nipple shaping and a bunch of other topics that probably are useful to know but also quite confronting. I've found myself every second day or so really stopping and thinking to myself that 'holy shit, we are going to have our own little baby' and shit gets real. With the little bundle making his way into the world at the most in eight weeks time (if it gets to the stage that I need an induction), I need to get myself mentally ready for his arrival.

But how does one do that? I know I can have the house ready for the baby but what about myself?

Many people have said it will all come instinctively and it will all kick in once he arrives. I don't doubt that. However, I did have someone once say 'oh Peta, you're such a natural ... NOT!' while holding a months-old baby and although I laugh it off and it is quite the joke amongst those that heard it, I do wonder, what if I am not (a natural that is)?

natural or NOT?

Either way, I'm so excited to meet this little dude. I just wish I was finishing work this week instead of being flat out busy for the next three weeks! A little apartment overlooking the ocean ten minutes down the road from our place will be a very welcome relief in a couple of weeks time. Not much of a babymoon, but still a babymoon ... even if I have to share a part of it with the in-laws.