I did a podcast this week...

I did an interview for the podcast Motherland Australia this week, and it has inspired me to write an update here (thank you Steph!). Hopefully, I will get some momentum and keep writing more regularly, but as you will hopefully understand by the end of this, I’m very much just taking things as they come at the moment.

It’s been a big few years for Tim and I. The last three in particular have been really tough on us; since having two small kids and covid hitting together, all my coping strategies fell apart and I was barely functioning. Tim was having to really keep the whole family together, as well as running the farm and the business. And not just running the farm and business, but excelling at both- he is currently Landcare's Tasmanian farmer of the year and was recently flown to Sydney for the National awards dinner. We regularly host field days for other farms, we had a class of students here last week from a local high school. He has become one of the top pasture cropping minds in Tasmania, by quietly going about his business, learning and practicing, trying to do what he can to make our farm as environmentally sustainable as possible, while making sure to have something well established for our children.   

Tim had married this fierce, motivated, energetic go-getter and she had just completely disappeared. I didn’t like the version of me I was. I was in survival mode. I preach put on your oxygen mask before helping others but not only was I not putting mine on, I had lost it all together. When I say I was in survival mode, I mean my self-care was at an all-time low. I was managing to still feed everyone, pick up Will from school etc, but I couldn’t see the mess in the house around me because I just couldn’t deal with it. And outside just didn’t exist. If it wasn’t for the cleaner I got funded by the NDIS, I don’t know what sort of state my house would have been in. I was barely showering, as in maybe once a week, it was just too hard. I think the only reason I was really functioning at all was because I had the kids to look after. It was this weird juxtaposition where I was so damn bored from the monotony of the everyday mundane crap of being a stay-at-home mum, yet it was my kids that kept me from losing it completely, the fact they needed me to look after them kept me getting out of bed and moving on. I was escaping into my phone every second I could, into fantasy novels became the place I went to get away from the nothingness that was just the same every day. My brain needs stimulation, and it just wasn’t getting it. I literally forgot I had friends. I had contact with about three people outside of my family. I had started on antidepressants, and they had helped a bit, but they didn’t really seem to be doing what I had hoped. I couldn’t pull myself out of it this time. I have been in this space before. I used to call it ‘being in a rut’ before I realised it was actually depression. I’d always been able to get myself out, usually in 2 weeks to 2 months. But this have been going on for 2 years now really. It wasn’t getting any better. I’d also developed migraines in this point, bad enough that I’m still on preventatives for them. I was never in danger of self-harm in any way, I was just completely numb. A constant, exhausted state of nothingness.

Around the middle of last year, Em Rusciano (comedic genius, podcaster, writer), a woman I have resonated with greatly since I began following her work, was diagnosed with ADHD. As she shared her ‘journey’, her symptoms, the effect it had or her life, it became too much of a coincidence. It wasn’t so much a subtle hint as a flashing neon sign with sirens blaring. I started to do some research. After one particularly jarring article, I emailed my mum and asked her if she had ever considered that maybe she or I might have ADHD. (This article had particularly screamed ‘MUM!!!’ at me). Her reply? ‘Why would I have ADHD? I just have all the symptoms’. It was then I knew I wasn’t just reading into things, that I would have her support in this. Together, we talked a lot over the next few months. I am lucky enough that the physiologist I have been seeing over the past 4 years is also a woman with an adult ADHD diagnosis. She has been an invaluable resource when it has come to helping me through this minefield. She helped me find the right psychiatrist and by the middle of this year, I had my diagnosis, ADHD inattentive.

All of a sudden, so much about my life makes sense. We had been looking back over my life, at where my depression started- all these early episodes were linked to events that are highly problematic for girls with inattentive ADHD; starting mainstream schooling, hitting puberty and going through puberty. My issues around homework (unsupervised work), relationships (all in for about 18 months then essentially bored over-night- those poor guys I dated!), adrenaline seeking behaviour (Rodeos, horse racing, driving everything to the limit), poor time management, high sex drive and so, so much more.  

It's a funny thing getting an ADHD diagnosis. For those of us who get the diagnosis, it can be EVERYTHING. It’s all we want to talk about. So much makes sense. It’s like rediscovering yourself. I was doing an interview recently for Paraquad Tas and during the conversation we were talking about how not everyone with a disability is comfortable divulging personal medical information with strangers on the street, who seem to think they are entitled to just ask whatever questions they wish, yet I’m always comfortable to educate so long as the person is polite to me. And lightbulb moment! Ah, that is my ADHD! ADHD often causes us to overshare and over-explain things! There you go, I told you, I just worked that out, you can have that exclusive!

It’s not really like that for our families though, well not the neurotypical members anyway. It turns out they can get bored of it pretty quick. To them it feels like we are making excuses. To us, we are making sense. We are relearning how we work. So much of what we thought we knew about ourselves has been wrong. And if, like me, a diagnosis has come about because of a crisis (like you’ve lost control of your life and you’re no longer functioning), well you need to learn how to put that back together, while learning how to use a new management system, new coping strategies, healthier patterns.  

When I started medication, I came back to life. It was like coming out of a boggy swamp, covered in pea soup for, out into dry land and clear blue skies. I remembered I had friends and I wanted to talk to them! I’m not exaggerating when I say medication for ADHD saved my marriage and me. Tim says he wasn’t going anywhere, but I don’t know how long he could have lasted before he was completely burnt out too. When we say in sickness or in health, I mean, this isn’t exactly what we expect by the sickness bit is it? 

I was so lucky to have had my psychologist on board; she had prepared me for the ups and downs going ahead, warned me to be aware of burn out, to really just try to focus on sleep, hydration and eating regularly and well for the first few months. And without that, I think I would have found it a really rough transition. I’ve still had quite a few slip ups as it is. My phone has been a huge issue still. Due to my improved ability to focus on medication, my phone addiction actually got a lot worse before it got better. For a while there I was sitting up reading until all hours of the morning. An alarm clock beside my bed and the phone staying in the kitchen overnight has fixed that. For the most part. I still slip up occasional and stay up by the fire reading later than I mean to, but on the whole, I’m doing ok.  

And my poor husband. I have always resisted the ‘hero for marrying me’ trope, because I hate how people see any guy who is with a woman with any kind of physical imperfection (i.e. a wheelchair) as oh so wonderful! But he has just about earnt it these past few years, I think. Not because of my physical disability, or because of my ADHD, but because it has been a hell of a shit storm riding all this out together! And of course, I had no idea while I was during said shit storm, just how bad I was (wait a sec, I think I was the shit storm in this analogy…) He was trying to tell me how much he was doing, struggling, how little I was doing, and I would just get defensive (because I felt guilty for how little I was achieving, because I felt I had no purpose or direction) and I was not capable of listening to him. I also hate him describing himself as my carer. It makes me feel useless, it takes away my independence. But looking back, I can see why he has felt like my carer over that time.

(In all of this, I mean no disrespect to mothers and fathers who do love and find satisfaction in their time as stay at home parents. I love being able to spend time at home with my kids, I just need something more. It is not enough stimulation for my brain. I need people, but I have a body that I must be careful not to over-do it with.)

Tim really has held this family together these past few years. It’s only been these past few months since my diagnosis and I started on medication that I’ve even begun to return to my usual self, to even be able to engage in proper 2-way conversations again, to form opinions of my own on things around the farm for example. I’ve also learnt I need extra time to process things in conversation, partially because I think in picture and not everyone does that! My mind pictures moving the cows from paddock A to B much more literally and step by step, than Tim’s does. He also has to draw me a lot of pictures. So, our communication is getting a lot better, even if it does have a long way to go and I can’t really process anything once my meds wear off at about 8pm.

I’ve come across this diagnosis at a time that I’m grateful for it. It would have been nice not to have had to suffer (and torture my family) for so long the past few years, but as ADHD is highly hereditary, it does mean that I know early enough to be aware to keep an eye on the boys and any symptoms they may have. Regardless of whether they were to be medicated, if they did have ADHD, an early diagnosis would provide them additional help at school, it provides us all with a better understanding of how their brains work, so we can help teach them appropriate ways to work with their brains. So, I’m grateful for the heads up there.

I still have a long way to go in my recovery. My poor husband has put everything on hold for us these past few years. I really hope I can get a bit of that fierce, go-getter he married back. I’m not sure which of us misses her more some days. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be the full-on farm wife he hopes for, but I know the better I get, the more I have to give and get out there. I do love the farm and I can’t imagine ever living anywhere else (in fact we’ve agreed if we ever do split up, I keep the house and he’s building an off-grid cottage out the back)! So hopefully it won’t be too long before he is off taking the boys camping and going fishing with his mates and taking time for himself, without having to worry about his wife breaking the wood fire door. Oh wait, I did that last week! But I also got it fixed, all by myself. Ha!

National Landcare Awards (photo: Frank Exon)

An introduction to me...

My name is Katherine Reed and I’m mum to William (3) and Harrison (1). We live in Tasmania with my husband Tim on our farm. 

When I was 19, I fell off a horse and broke my back, leaving me paralysed from my chest down. While I mourned the loss of my ability to ride, my mum mourned the loss of my ability to have children. It turns out we were both wrong. 11 years later, I have gone on to ride again, to travel Australia solo, to represent my country in wheelchair basketball and attended ag college, all before coming home to Tasmania to settle down and have those babies my mum thought I’d never have.

My first son Will was born in 2016, and like new parents everywhere, Tim and I worked it out as we went. I tried to speak to as many women with spinal cord injuries as I could, to help learn what SCI specific issues I might need to prepare for, as well as any useful tips they might be able to provide. Unfortunately, I found there were few of these women to talk to and very little information to be found online. This led me to begin my blog, Para Pregnancy. I knew there were going to be plenty of other women coming after me who could benefit from my experiences.

I’m a complete paraplegic, at the level of the 4^th and 5^th thoracic vertebrae. I have pins and needles from half-way down my breasts and below, which meant I had to monitor a correct feeding latch by sound and sight, rather than feel. I can’t walk or stand, and my balance is impaired. My bowel and bladder care are managed by a combination of medications, timing, self-catheterisation (bladder) and suppositories and stomach massage (bowels). My bowel routine takes up to an hour most days. It’s sucks, but it is what it is. I also have trouble regulating my temperature and rely on a room thermometer to help know how warm to dress the boys, since I almost always feel cold. My reproductive system is not affected, so I can still menstruate and get pregnant as normal.

Because my body cannot feel pain or discomfort in the usual way, I have an ‘alarm system’ called autonomic dysreflexia. This means in painful situations (i.e. childbirth), I have to be careful to manage my pain. I laboured with both my boys, but for various reasons, both ended up emergency caesarean sections. I’ve written about both over three posts; here, here and here.

I’ve only ever been a mum in a wheelchair, so I don’t have anything to compare it to. I have many of the same issues as any other mum, so I just do my best to adjust to the situation. I find I often rely on strangers for help. I have to think ahead a little more sometimes. For example, there are only a select few spots in town I can park where I have flat access to both sides of the car in order to get both Will and Harry out safely. If they are all full, I might park where I have access to one side of the car, then recruit a passer-by to get Harry from the other side.

I need to be quite strict with Will about some things, like picking up toys in the walkways, so I don’t fall out of my chair holding baby Harry, and not to run away, since he can easily outrun me now. I very much pick my battles, allowing him to run and explore around whenever I can. We have a large house yard, so he is allowed a lot of freedom outside.

Often, I will be getting out of my car and someone passing by will comment on me, getting my chair out of the car. While I know they are just trying to be supportive and encouraging, I find it somewhat amusing, since I’m about to get two kids and a pram out too. Me operating the pram looks very impressive, but I promise you I find it quite easy. I keep one hand on my wheels and the other on the pram, alternating hands as I push one side, then the other. It does mean I travel in a bit of a zig zag until I get up momentum, but on a downhill we’re like a freight train!

When it comes to what equipment I’ve bought, a lot of my choice had been dictated by what I’ve had available to try out. We don’t have a huge range down here. The capsule we got was the only one I could get in and out of both the pram and car without assistance. We used a co-sleeper bassinet, so I could feed in bed and stay warm. Around home I used a regular pillow on my lap, so I could lay Harry on it (without him rolling off my lap) until he was big enough to sit up.

I find the word inspirational is overused. I know people are trying to be encouraging, but it’s my pet peeve. I’m not an extraordinary person, I just happen to be living a live many people (mistakenly) think is the worst thing that could happen to you. If I’d curing cancer, sure, but if it’s an activity completely ordinary without the wheelchair in the picture, I’d prefer ‘impressive’ or ‘interesting’. Of course, I can only speak for myself. I personally prefer people to talk to me, to ask their questions and learn, but many people with disabilities really don’t want to deal with this.

At the end of the day, I’m not much different to any other mum. I have good days and bad days. I always appreciate the offer for help, even if I don’t always accept it. I am also very aware of how good I have it. People can see my disability; they go out of their way to make sure I’m ok. We all have something that we struggle with, that makes some days hard for us.

Harry, Katherine, Will, Tim (& Pia the dog). 

You might look at me in my wheelchair and think you couldn’t handle it. You’d be surprised what you can deal with when you don’t have a choice. You might see my chair and think about all the things it stops me doing. In actual fact, that chair is what allows me to continue to live a free live; it’s my legs. And as anyone chasing a child escaping on a bike can tell you; wheels are a very efficient way to travel!



I was recently interviewed by Holly Wainwright for Mamamia's This Glorious Mess podcast. You can listen to that here. I managed to completely avoid talking about Tim the entire podcast. I tend to write mostly about myself and my experiences, but he is a very active part of our family, an excellent Dad and husband and absolutely deserves a shout out!

Paraplegic to parent

I was talking to a friend recently about parenting with a disability. Shelley and I have both spent many years using wheelchairs in order to lead a full life, (in her case for her whole life). We talked about how ingrained ableist attitudes are in our society, so much so that we even contribute to them ourselves. I met Shelley when we were both playing wheelchair basketball, a lifestyle that led both of us to really underestimate just how difficult it can be for people in Australia, living with a disability. We were both young, fit athletes, often traveling in a team. Now, as mums, less young, less fit, with a whole lot more responsibility and whole lot less support, we are seeing things from a different point of view. While Shelley used to be able to handle a couple of small steps, with a baby on her lap, those two steps are suddenly a whole lot bigger. We both find ourselves in situations where we have had to hand our babies to complete strangers, (something that is a risk in itself), in order to access parts of our communities.

A third friend, also an old team-mate, recently shared a post on social media about the way able bodied people talk to us about our disabilities. Now I am someone who has always been quite comfortable talking about my disability. I’ve always taken the attitude that the more people know, the better equipped they are to treat you appropriately. This post though, addressed the fact that what is actually happening, is a complete stranger is asking you a whole heap of incredibly personal and often invasive questions, with barely a ‘hello’ to preface it. How would we consider this appropriate behaviour in any other situation? Shelley shared how she was doing groceries one day when a woman stopped to say hello to her baby, before turning and asking her if she had a caesarean or vaginal delivery. I’ve had many people ask me when I was pregnant if I’d have to have a caesarean delivery. Now yes, woman often share our birth stories, but usually with people we know, or at the very least, within context. (God knows I probably share mine more than people want me to!)

By answering these questions, I’ve been reinforcing this behaviour. I don’t know how the next person they ask these questions will feel about it. We accept that sexual assault is a traumatic and personal experience and treat people accordingly. For many people with an acquired injury, their story can be just as traumatic (and it’s nigh on impossible to tell from looking at someone how long they’ve had their disability). For these people, to be asked ‘what happened to you?’ while going about their business, can be just very distressing. And don’t get me started on ‘what’s wrong with you?’. I actually lead a very full and happy life, the only thing ‘wrong’, is societies perception of my ability.

I find it secretly amusing when someone sees me out alone and offers me some encouraging words, telling me I do a good job getting my chair out of the car or some other mediocre task. I know they mean well, but it just shows how little we expect of people with disabilities. I’m capable of so much more. I find it amusing because I wonder what those same people will think next time they see me, with my two small children- we do live in a small town, after all.

I think my disability makes me a better parent. I know it makes me a more considerate, patient and empathetic person. I know I can take an extra breath (most of the time) when I watch my toddler struggle to get dressed, because I have a very real understanding and memory of how frustrating it is learning to do those things. Learning to dress yourself again as a 19-year-old is a very humbling experience. I am reminded of myself trying to learn to sit up again, to roll over, to shuffle across the floor, reach for something out of my grasp, as I watch my babies struggle to do the same.

I will still answer peoples questions, because I still believe that the more we know, the better we can respond, but I feel the need now to also gently remind people to consider if they would ask an able bodied person such intimate details, or how they’d feel if a stranger approached them to ask them such personal questions.

Now, I’m off to go fill out a highly invasive, totally irrelevant NDIS questionnaire…

This mum's post election debrief.

EDIT: 25/1/2020
Having had a few months to reflect on this, I'm still very disappointed with the election result, but I'm more sad than angry. I understand that it is a place of privilege to be able to put more importance on the environment, that my personal benefit. I don't have to worry if I'll still be able to feed my kids, as so many others do. I'm trying to be more understanding, to consider others position. It doesn't mean I think the environment is any less in trouble, but I'm trying to focus my anger in a more useful direction. Having learnt a bit more about our Pentecostal PM and how his beliefs affect his politics, I'm feeling even more wary of religion mixing with politics (Tasmania almost got a Pentecostal premier last week, which had me worried). Particularly since I find the more religious a person is, the further away from the actual core values of the religion they seem to be. I hope we will get through this, that we won't actually set the world on fire, but we still have a lot to do, don't we?

I realise that ‘para’parenting’ doesn’t exactly scream politics, but politics is about the rules and systems that govern our societies, and as a parent, our current political climate in Australia really worries me.

I am feeling angry, that people not only voted to keep the Morrison government, but that they actually gave them more seats. That Labour fucked up so badly. They had ‘an unlosable election’, and yet, here we are. And what happened to ‘this is the climate change election?’  

I’m glad that Shorten has stepped down. For the love of God, can we please give Penny Wong a go?? Ok, I realise she’s a senator, not an MP, but that just a technicality. How amazing would it be to have a gay woman in the top spot? Or just anyone who had some direction and leadership ability, really.

Off the top of my head, there are a few things I think Labour did that were really, really dumb. Like a 40% tax on inherences. I have to think they meant it to stop the rich just passing stuff onto their richer kids, because otherwise they’re not just stupid but incompetent if they didn’t realise the effect it would have on the lower end of the food chain. They’d lost that battle when it was broken down by the coalition as ‘Grandma will give you a $40,000 car and the ATO will give you a $16,000 bill’. I wonder why younger people receiving inherences weren’t keen on that idea? Or older people keen to know that their kids would be billed for the gifts they gave them?

Their plan for 50% electric cars, in a country the size of Australia was never going to fly. There are smarter ways to get our emissions down. Yes, most of our population is in urban areas, but how about the invested in cheap, reliable public transport in those areas, then people wouldn’t need to use cars.

Their tax on family trusts, again, stupid. So many small businesses, including our own, are set up using a family trust. This is because it protects the family assets (like the house you live in), in case of someone suing the business for something the business is responsible for (like because someone gets hurt working for you, or on your property). For many small family businesses, this is the money they live off, their only income. Especially, say, a mum working full time raising the children that will later inherit the property and go on to work on it (oh, look, they got hit twice). Labour are just so out of touch! Aren’t these the people they say they are trying to protect? Ordinary working people? What happened to taxing the rich end of town? Or you know, just making those big companies/mines pay any tax would be a good start!

And yet, even with these three policies that I did not agree with, I still wanted them to win. Because at the end of the day, if we don’t do something to stop the earth burning to a crisp, it won’t matter what tax anyone does or doesn’t pay!!  

I saw a video by Charlie Pickering this week, talking about Australia’s ‘share’ of global emissions. He talks about how we do only produce 1.3% of global emissions. However, our 1.3%, combined with England at around 2% and many other countries with small emissions, total 41% of fossil fuel emissions. The UK have declared a climate emergency. Our Politian’s, instead of trying to clean up our share, just say we are too small to matter. We only around 2% of allied forces in WW2, but we didn’t let that stop us doing our bit. Why should this be any different? As Pickering said, we have always punched above our weight.

There is very little, if anything, we can do about the 27% of emissions produced by China. We might be able to put political pressure on them, or stop selling them cheap coal, but really, that would need to be a global approach. We can however take care of our corner of the world. How about not letting a coal mine be built basically on top of the Great Barrier Reef? Our greatest living wonder is already being cooked, now they’re going to throw a mines worth of pollution at it too?

We are experiencing massive, catastrophic weather events, with increased regularity. Once in a century is rapidly approaching once a decade. What will it be like by the time our babies are having babies of their own? I come from a farming background and I see the pain our farmers are in; if they’re not fighting drought, it’s flood or fire. This past summer Tasmania had horrific fires that burnt areas that won’t ever recover, destroyed trees hundreds of years older than the Australian government that doesn’t seem to think their loss matters, that because there was no loss of human life that it wasn’t really that bad.  

I was not at all enthusiastic about a Labour win, but I am feeling gutted that they lost. I went into the polling booth with a heavy heart, knowing there was no one running I felt I could enthusiastically get behind. I felt Labour had stupid policies and were not really very different from the Liberal party in anything I considered important. The Greens have strong environmental policies, but I find some of their policies really detrimental to the farming community. I also haven’t forgotten they were behind campaigns to get rodeos and horse racing banned, both sports I have long been involved in (some bad people, mostly good people who love their animals). Liberals I find utterly inhumane and their policies cruel. Their views on immigration and refugees are awful. I also believe that a woman should have the right to choose if and when she has a baby, so find the lack of reproductive health services woefully inadequate. Men should not be legislating women's bodies. My local Liberal candidate was dis-endorsed over a Facebook post she apparently wrote saying feminists should have their clitorises removed and be sold to the Arabs for fucks sake. As an out and proud feminist, I find that terrifying, horrific, abhorrent, disgusting and all those other adjectives!! (Don’t even get me started on the fact that feminism is the reason she’s even allowed to stand for parliament). And all the other minor parties seem to be one or more of the ‘ists’ or ‘phobes,’ racists, bigots, homophobes, islamophobe’s, sexists, ableist… the list goes on! Clive Palmer just bought himself a government that will let his mining businesses continue to operate, without forcing him to actually pay his staff. I guess he feels his $70m was well spent! Urgh!  

I don’t feel confused or surprised, just utterly disappointed and frustrated. I feel sad. I know that I did the right thing, but I can’t help but feel I’ve not done enough, I’m not doing enough. I know I need to do more, but I don’t know how or what. I only have a finite amount of time and energy to spare, so I want to use it well. But I know not doing anything, is no longer an option. I’ve been thinking about running for office for a while now. I don’t think I’m ready yet. I don’t feel I have enough knowledge or life experience. Then again Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez is my age and look what she’s doing with her life! I don’t want to run for a federal seat, because I don’t want to be away from my home and family that much, but I feel like that’s where the real changes are made. I guess I have a few years to decide about that now anyway.

So, people, what are you doing? How are you feeling after this election? Maybe you don’t see this as a bad thing? Have you found this uplifting, or do you want to move to New Zealand? What are you doing to help make Australia a better place for everyone? What can I do?

A baby is born

We had booked in a c-section for baby 2. There were a few reasons for this, including the fact that I was really struggling with all the extra weight I was carrying, baby was measuring big and Will had had a massive head. Because I'd had a c section already, my induction methods were very limited. While I wasn't scared of a big baby, or even a big head, I did know it wold make a vaginal delivery more difficult, and the likelihood of another emergency c section was much higher.
That said, Dr D, Tim and I were in agreement that if I went into labour spontaneously, then I could have a try at a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean). I really wasn't holding out any hope for this, since Will had had no interest in going anywhere at full term and we were booked in early this time. However....

Three days before surgery was scheduled, Will and I were at home, baking a cake. The cake was in the oven, Will had gone down for a nap and... yeah that's not just Braxton Hicks anymore. Shit. Ok. Tim had been trying to get a final couple of days of work in before baby arrived, so I called him home to take me to the hospital. My mother-in-law was already coming out to watch Will while I had a nap, so she had to put her foot down too.

As we left home, I was having contractions about 4 minutes apart. I can feel them come on- it's just like someone hugging me tightly around my belly, though it's hard for me to tell the duration of them as they fade off again. Basically I was feeling nervous, like maybe I needed to go to the toilet (tried that, I didn't). We live about 30 minutes from the hospital and by the time we were half way there, I was not good. Within a few minutes, I'd gone from basically fine, to feeling really sick, heart racing, feverish, nasty headache. The effort of getting out of the car actually did make me sick.

When we arrived on the ward, I was admitted, but there was no expectation from anyone (except me) that this was show time. It took a while for a canula to be successfully inserted. My veins aren't great at the best of times. (Even getting iron infusions while I was pregnant often took multiple attempts). That allowed them to start anti nausea medication (so I could take panadole) and fluids. Once that all happened, I started feeling much better.

For those of you who haven't had much exposure to spinal cord injuries, the thing to watch out for here is AD, autonomic dysreflexia. Because I can't feel pain or discomfort below my injury level, my body has a different warning system to tell me something is wrong. The first symptom is a headache as my blood pressure rises. Other symptoms include all the ones I'd been experiencing, though it changes from person to person. Now you might expect that labour would fit the 'pain or discomfort' bill, but my response had come on very hard and fast.

By the time I'd been in a few hours I'd progressed from 2cm dilated to 4cm.  Baby's heart rate was a little higher than we wanted, though it had come down as I'd begun to feel better. Then my waters broke, full of merconium. So we decided it was time to go to theater. Now, not only were we dealing with a baby a few days earlier than we'd expected (I'd literally only packed my hospital bag 3 hours before we left home), but Dr D wasn't working that day, so I was dealing with obstetricians I'd never met before. Don't get me wrong, they were lovely, did a good job and listened to me but it was still very off putting to be going through all this without her.

Unfortunately, I cannot be so complementary of the anesthetist I had. Now I want to preface this saying that I understand her primary job is to get both Mum and Baby through the surgery safely, but that is not her only job. She did not listen to me when I told her that my fever was a result of my AD, rather she said it must be the result of an infection, despite my blood tests having come back clear and the fact my symptoms came on so quickly, and were fixed by panadole.
Because I'd had a fever, she would only do a GA (general anesthetic). Her reasoning for this was that if I had an infection and it got into my spinal column from the spinal tap, it would be a horrific infection to try and get rid of. Treatment included multiple surgeries over years. So if I'd had an infection, that would be very sensible, except that my fever was from AD. This decision was devastating to me. It meant that I would be asleep for the delivery, but it also meant no one else, including Tim, is allowed in the delivery room.

When we got to the theater door, she berated me like a child, speaking about me as if I wasn't there. She said if I didn't want a GA, that I needed to get another anesthetist, as if that was a viable option when we were at the theater door and everyone was telling me my baby was in distress and needed to be born now. Then when I said I was 'fucking furious' (in reply to 'how are you feeling?'), she told me she wouldn't give me a GA if I wasn't happy. Well. I saw red. I am not someone who is confrontational, especially people in positions of authority, like doctors! But she poked the wrong Mama Bear! I told her she had no right to ask that of me. That I consented, we needed to get this baby out and now, but she did not get to tell me I had to be happy about it!!

Ok, deep breathes. Can you tell I am still a little frustrated about this, almost three months later? (For those of you wondering, I did put in a complaint, about 6 weeks after. I wanted to take time to process what had happened, to make sure I wasn't being irrational).

Tim was kicked out (unfortunately no one had actually told him anything about where he was meant to go, so he was a bit lost for a while), and they took me into the theater. As I counted down, I had tears running down my face. My only memory between then and recovery, was a dark haired boy being offered for a kiss and being asked if he had a name. Harrison Trevor. You've never seen a newborn with so much hair!

Harry was taken off to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit, NICU, and I was taken to recovery, where I slowly woke up and got snippets of news about him. His Apgar score was 2, so very low at birth. He had needed some help to breath, most likely because he'd also got some GA, and weighted 8lb, 3.5oz, so a pound lighter than Will, but the same sized head, almost 2 weeks earlier!

When he needed his first feed, I was still in recovery. Tim insisted they come see me to try express some milk before they gave him formula. I was so proud of him for this. He knew exactly what I wanted and made sure it happened. Sure enough, the midwife for 15ml in 5 minutes, off one boob. For those of you who haven't had babies, 15ml of colostrum is really good!!

Once I was discharged from recovery, I was taken up to the nursery to meet Harry properly. Poor baby was hooked up to a drip, but he was well and truly alive, which is the main thing.

I'm going to leave it there for today.     

A new direction...

I've thrown myself off the deep end! Over the past three plus years, this blog has been entirely about babies. Well over this time my life has been largely about babies. Now however, I'm branching out.

There are many women out there who devote themselves wholly to their children. If you're one of them, good for you. I need something else though. Last year I went back to uni and I loved it, but with a newborn at home, it's just not sustainable for me.

So this is going to be my 'place'. I like to write about what I know. At the moment this is largely parenting and children, but I'm more than just a mum. So I'm going to try something new. In between my Paraparenting experiences, I'm going to share some other pieces I've been working on, both non-fiction and the occasional fiction piece. 

I'm also going to try and learn how to use Instagram, so you can find me there at https://www.instagram.com/paraparenting/

I have lots to catch up on after a very slow writing, busy living year, including a birth story.

So, let's see how this goes shall we?

Welcome back!

Well, it has certainly been a while and what a lot I have to tell you about! 

After having a very dark period over winter last year, I decided I needed something to wake my brain up. So this year, I began a Bachelor of Arts, in gender studies and politics. We are very lucky to have both Will's sets of grandparents close by, so he spends one day a week at each house. I'm not sure who is happier about this arrangement, Will or his grandparents... Actually, it could be me! 

The first half of the year, this worked beautifully! 

You know how they say that every baby is different? Well, after a relatively easy pregnancy with Will, his little brother/sister felt the need to remind me of the reason that saying was invented. Yep, we have number two on the way! What was meant to be a nice few week off between semesters, a chance to do some fun stuff with Will and just catch my breath, was spent feeling like absolute shit. I was just hanging out for the 12-14 week mark, waiting for that feeling I had with Will. That didn't happen, not by a long shot. 

It was always my intention to start blogging again, but I've had so little left to give anything or one, that it has not been possible until now, at 29 weeks. 

I'm someone who knows I am capable of good grades, so I don't like to settle for anything less than that. This pregnancy has meant I've had to reassess my expectations of myself. I've had to lower my cooking and housekeeping standards. I haven't been able to see my girlfriends as much as I want or even need. I am someone who gets so much from my female relationships and I've really felt the lack of those catch-ups over the past 6 months. So if you're one of the few who have managed to keep seeing me over this period; thank you! You have helped me keep my head above water. 

I have the most delightful little boy here. Will is two and half now and everyday makes me laugh at some crazy thing he does. He's an outdoor adventurer who loves nothing more than to wrestle his dog to the ground and go off on adventures around the yard, something he's been doing since he was crawling and worked out how to open the screen door. But he also loves to sit reading on his puppy mat, to help his mum bake kiss biscuits, to play dress ups with his friends, running round in a tutu. This morning he baked me some 'biscuits' (curtain rings), using his socks as oven mitts to make sure he didn't burn his hands. He amazes me with the things he's observed. 

I don't know how much he understands about this baby, but when he says goodnight to Mummy and Daddy, he also pulls up my top and gives my bump a kiss, a cuddle and several raspberries! So we will see how he goes! I think he'll be ok.

So far as the pregnancy, baby is going really well. We have chosen not to find out the gender again, since it doesn't make any real difference to us. Our nursery was painted gender neutral and hasn't changed. We will be using Wills clothes again. My doctor is obviously not worried about us, since I am also seeing the midwife. I think they call it combined care. I've only had a couple of scans this time, (like most people). Baby is growing well and was measuring about 8 days ahead at our last scan. I'm feeling lots of movement now too, which is nice and reassuring. 

Baby has been doing much better than me. I've had two iron infusions now, which has helped, but a month ago, finishing off uni, I was totally wiped out. Pregnancy is exhausting, as is having a toddler, but I was sleeping ten hours and still needing to nap. I was having to rest on the way to the clothes line, which is maybe 10 metres from the house. I wasn't ok. 

I have also had constipation a LOT earlier this time round. I'm mostly on top of it now, but at about 22 weeks it was a bit of an issue. Coloxyl with Senna and Normacol have helped. I've also been horribly bloated from about 10 weeks. I'm on Zantac again twice daily and that's helped, as well as eating little and often. And I'm on Clexane (anticoagulant) injections again, since I've been swollen (like I'd been attacked by bees) since about 18 weeks. I'm guessing. I've barely written anything about anything this time round! 

The good news is that while I'm tired still, and really noticing the extra weight, I am actually starting to get to that nice bit in the middle, where I mostly feel alright. 

I am going to have to change chairs soon. I got a new chair 18 months ago and this one, while a little wider, is taller than my last chair. I went into this pregnancy carrying a few more kilos than last time, so that extra inch or so makes a big difference! I've had a bit of niggly discomfort in my left shoulder this year, so I'm really conscious of not putting too much pressure on it. Or rather, as little as possible. 

I think bub has Will's nose...

So, where to from here? I have my next check up just before Christmas, then scan and visit with Dr D in January. She told me after Will that if I had an uncomplicated pregnancy and a small baby, a natural delivery would be possible. Induction options are limited, as the drugs they use weaken the cesarean scar, but if I went into labour spontaneously, then it would all be possible. 

This baby does not seem to be complying with the order of a 'small baby' though. It is certainly good that it's healthy and growing well, but I have a feeling Dr D will be recommending scheduling a C-section. 

So while I am coming into this a lot more mentally prepared (as opposed to last time where I decided I was going to have a natural delivery, so I just didn't think about a C-section, or what that would mean/involve) I'm still a bit disappointed. I really wanted to have that experience, and I know that if I have a second cesarean, that's it. Even if/when we go back for number three, a natural delivery won't be an option after two C-sections. I know at the end of the day we just want a healthy mum and bub, but I'm not quite ready to accept that I might need to give up my natural delivery to get that. Good thing I still have a couple of months to get used to the idea! 

I'm going to stop now, before this gets too long, but I will try to keep updating over Christmas. 

Thanks for coming back. Until next time!