As for how she got here? I can thank Anna Wintour.

Resigned to being overdue, I made plans to see Vogue documentary The September Issue at the movies at midday, secretly hoping that I’d jinx myself into labour. Sure enough, 15 minutes in to the movie, just as Paris Fashion Week was in full swing, I clocked the light contractions I’d had all morning at 6 minutes apart. The regularity convinced me that this could indeed be ‘it’ so I figured I needed to leave while I could still drive home, so rang my husband and had him meet me back at the house.

At home, I practised a few techniques from Active Birth to get me through the increasingly strong back contractions. Vocalisation (“Ahhhh”) worked well, stamping and bouncing on a fitball not so much. Just like my son’s posterior labour I found the greatest relief under a scalding hot shower by candlelight. Strangely, contractions usually came on when S. wasn’t in the room, giving credence to Michael Odent’s recent theories on men and labour.

Once the contractions were four minutes apart, I called the birth centre and asked if I should come in. The midwife’s advice was to hold out until either I couldn’t take the pain anymore or I ran out of hot water. Whatever came first.

I held out for another hour or so in the bathroom before the faint promise of pain relief became an overwhelming need. So at about 7.30pm we headed off to the hospital, me screaming through two contractions in the front seat and again out the front of the hospital. I think i may have frightened some small children…

At the birth centre I was examined and found to be 4-5cm dilated – promising, but I still thought I had a long wait ahead, based on my last labour which was about 17 hours long.

But back under the blissful double hot water jets, The frequency and force of the contractions, which had slowed as my body adjusted to the new environment, kicked back in with great intensity. I summoned for the gas and clamped down on the hose like a demented animal.

The next hour and a half was quite a blur of shouting, sucking on gas and sobbing as the contractions started to come right on top of each other. I frequently told my partner that I couldn’t do it anymore, he responded each time that I was doing it and that she’d be here soon. I felt really strong baby movements and could actually physically see my stomach distorting as she changed positions from posterior. No natural “pain management technique” was useful anymore, all I could do was hang in there for dear life.

The next thing I knew, the new shift Midwife, Sue, had me on my back in the bath and my waters broke. She took my crack pipe gas hose away said that if I felt like pushing, to go right ahead.

Woah, steady on! I was only just getting my breath back from going through transition. I announced that I was not ready to push and wanted to get out of the bath. Intense emotions are common at this stage of labour and in my case I was shaking and in denial. Sue and my husband kept up the encouragement and sure enough, the next contraction (thankfully these were not as fast and painful as the earlier ones) were accompanied by the urge to ‘bear down’. Having had an epidural with my son the feeling was unusual and scared the crap out of me.

Within only two rounds of pushing, her head was ready to crown. Terrified, but overwhelmed now by the incredible, primal urge running through me I bore down several times in quick succession and several excruciating seconds later the worst was over and her head was out. All too quickly I was being told to give just a couple of small pushes and she slid out, scooped out of the water by Sue and placed in my arms. Squealing ‘my baby, my baby!’ it was a moment of utter joy as Shane and I held our beautiful screaming girl for the first time. I felt the flood of oxytocin that I’d only read about and all pain was forgotten as I cradled her. Here is the magic moment.

It was 10.30pm, only 12 hours since I’d gone into early labour. The midwives marvelled at her size and the skipping-rope length umbilical cord. At 4.33kg she was almost half a kilo bigger than my son who was born 10 days later in gestation, with the same big head size of 37cm (yes, I needed stitches, lots of them, let’s not talk about it.)

The next couple of hours were idyllic as the placenta was delivered without incident and we were left alone in the home-like confines of the birth centre for skin-to-skin bonding time and a brilliant first breastfeed, after which Lucinda fell into a massive seven hour sleep.

I couldn’t believe how amazing I felt after a natural birth. Too wired to stay in bed, I woke at 5am, put on lip gloss, made some toast and read Grazia magazine while my new family slept. Such a civilised way to recover post-birth.

The exhaustion has caught up with me a few days later, but now that I’m home after a short hospital stay I can sit on my own couch, eat chocolates and take endless photos of Lucie. We’re getting the hang of the whole feeding thing, her brother is getting used to not being the centre of the universe anymore (anyone got any tips on sibling jealousy?) and I’m remarking at how it is indeed possible to function on only 4 hours of broken sleep a night.

Thanks for following my journey to this point and I wish all my pregnant readers the best of luck with their own births and baby moons. So, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go take a nap.

To say that such a long pre-labour is frustrating is an understatement. But now that I’m due tomorrow, I know that the end is in sight (well, no more than two weeks away). My son was born at 42 weeks so I’m under no illusion that due dates mean anything.

The other benefit of being due this week is that now when random strangers tell me that I look ready to pop, I can actually reply, “yes.. any day now” instead of  ”err… I’m actually about two months away”.

The texts and emails have started, and if I don’t update my Facebook status daily you can be sure there’ll be a query on my wall. It’s nice that people are interested, even if I feel like screaming SHE’S NOT HERE YET at the top of my lungs.

Among the advice I’ve been given to bring on labour this week have been the following:

- Bumpy bus ride

- Long walk followed by a curry

- Sex (semen contains prostaglandins which induce labour, apparently)

- Nipple stimulation

- Fresh pineapple

- Fancy restaurant reservation or hair appointment (acts as a jinx)

- Acupuncture/chiropathy/Bowen therapy

- Castor oil (did that last time, disgusting and ineffective)

- Brazilian waxing (ouch!)

But really, unless I’m staring a medical induction in the face I think I’ll stick to my regime of chilling out, nanna naps and life uninterrupted by a three-hourly feeding schedule for as long as I can.

Tell me – how did you bring on your labour?

Unlike those women whose waters break spontaneously and kicktstart a fast labour, my body likes to tease me with signs of pre-labour for weeks and weeks: strong braxton hicks ‘practice’ contractions, back pain, spotting, nausea and moodiness. I keep thinking ‘this is it!’ and then… nothing.

I’m on full holiday time now and couldn’t tell you what day it is. But unlike holidays that can be filled with activities I’m practically housebound, waddling from room to room, trying in vain to keep up with my toddler.

As another friend who is 39 weeks pregnant put it, “ I am hunkering down in trackie pants and comfy tops and doing NOTHING, unless absolutely necessary… the poor kids are climbing the walls.”

The place which is my saviour at the moment is a play centre with decent coffee and a multitude of slides. It may be expensive, but what price can you put on being able to eat a chocolate caramel slice in relative peace? It has the dual benefit of tiring Finn out so we can both have a decent afternoon nanna nap.

Still, my midwives assure me that it won’t be long at all until I’m enjoying the surrounds of the birth centre while visualising my cervix opening like a flower (thanks Juju Sundin.) I’m 3/5 engaged and could safely go in to labour at any time. Bags are packed, an iPod playlist is being created and I’ve been practising my birth mantras, also from Juju’s book:

Relax, release, let go

Pain means action

Baby’s coming, baby’s coming

I can only hope next week’s blog brings more exciting news!

Do let me know if any birth mantras worked for you, and what was on your labour soundtrack.

We don’t know if he actually has the dreaded pig lurgy or regular influenza, but he has the symptoms and it was enough for the doctor to hit him up with two packs of Tamiflu, one for each of us. I called my midwife clinic to confirm that I should take it as a precaution and apparently I should. Common side effects include nausea and vomiting. Can’t wait!

So now I’m trying to be as inactive as possible to ward off labour, now that my support person is coughing up a lung and shivering on the lounge.

In other news, I’ve been revisiting my birth plan from last pregnancy and deciding whether to use it again. Here is an extract, adapted from a template on birth.com.au.

Key points for caregivers
- Please don’t offer me drugs unless I ask for them
- Please don’t break my waters unless medically indicated
- We would like the option of my partner ‘catching’ the baby
- Would rather risk a tear than an episiotomy
- If assisted birth is necessary, I would prefer a ventouse over forceps
- If I require a caesarean, I would like my partner to be there at all times, given a spinal over an epidural, and have the baby given to me or my partner ASAP
- If the umbilical cord must be clamped due to caesarean, I would like to donate the cord blood. Otherwise, I would prefer to delay cord clamping until the cord has stopped pulsating.
- I would prefer to avoid the syntocinon injection unless it is necessary due to excessive bleeding or delayed 3rd stage.
- I would like to see the placenta afterwards
- Would like to have all weighing, measuring etc done after I’ve had time for skin to skin contact with the baby
- If I can’t be with the baby, I would like my partner to stay with the baby at all times
- If I need stitching, please do it ASAP

Unfortunately, my whole plan went out the window last time as soon as I left the birth centre due to a stalled labour. It was well and truly the last thing on my mind after I’d delivered and the midwife brought me my placenta in a silver dish ‘as requested in your birth plan’. I recoiled in horror!

Experience tells me that you can’t prepare for every eventuality in labour and birth and I don’t think I’ll bother this time. However, the actual process of going through the likely options and decisions to be made is a very useful exercise for couples to go through, so you can be sure you are in agreement before the day.

As well as a plan for caregivers, some couples like to have a plan for the support person to follow in case they forget what has been taught in birth preparation classes. For example:

Key points for partner
- Offer me fluids or ice cubes to suck on to keep me hydrated.
- Suggest and physically help me into different labour positions.
- Walk with me if I need to do this.
- Breathe with me when I look lost.
- Remind me to relax between contractions (‘body check’).

This time around I am reading Juju Sundin’s Birth Skills (co-written with Sarah Murdoch) and I am likely to take along a few notes on pain-management techniques for my husband to refer to if what I’m doing isn’t working.

I’d love to hear from others if you had a birth plan – and if it was an accurate template for what followed!

I may be on maternity leave, but have so far managed to do very little in the baby preparation department other than wash a few small outfits for the hospital stay. It’s surely the most pleasing kind of laundry there is, a whole line full of divine 0000s blowing in the breeze.

The labour bag is still looking woefully empty. Here is my list — I think I may require a large suitcase.

Paperwork
Ante Natal Card
Birth plan (more on that next week)
Medicare Card/Details

Labour bag
Lip Balm – (lips can become dry and chafed during labour from heavy breathing)
Massage oils
CDs/Ipod
Lollies or lollipops to suck on
Cooling face mist
Face washers to wet during labour
Frozen juice poppers to suck on
Microwaveable heat pack
Charged mobile phone
Snacks for during and after labour
Digital Camera with film and extra batteries
Wallet
Pen for filling out paperwork

Hospital bag
Summer pyjamas
Slippers
Bathrobe
2 – 3 nursing bras
Underwear (lots)
2 1 pack maternity pads
Toiletries – toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, hairbrush, hair bands, make up, deodorant, liquid soap, moisturiser, Lanisoh (nipple cream), hairdryer
Makeup for those ‘naturally glowing’ post-birth photos
Towel
Comfy day clothes
Roll of soft toilet paper
Ural
Plastic bags for dirty clothes.
Tissues
Box of chocolates/card for midwifes.
Going home outfit & blanket/wrap for baby
A babycare book because I’ve forgotten what to do with a newborn
Chocolate for myself
Ear plugs
Breast pads
Laptop and wireless card for post-birth social networking announcements
Plastic Bag
Notepad
Present for Finn from baby sister (already bought: a Yo Gabba Gabba toy)

Have I missed anything? What were your essentials in labour and during your hospital stay?

Update: List has been amended above based on your feedback. Thanks!

I feel like my head is about to fall off from all the spinning. While I’m very excited that the baby is doing everything she is supposed to do and moving further down in to my pelvis (cue awkward waddling), the realisation that I’m full term and that the baby could theoretically come any time from here without efforts to stop the labour is confronting.

I’m not ready! I’m still working, for starters. I’ll be manning this Babble baby until a new editor starts —  or I give birth. But I have drawn the line and sitting in an uncomfortable office chair for any longer.

Unfortunately, as I’m to give birth 18 months before the government’s paid maternity leave scheme kicks in, I’m only entitled to the baby bonus, so once that runs out I’ll have to resort to selling my breastmilk on eBay to pay the mortgage*.

We’ve written quite a bit about paid parental leave here on Babble. I’m amazed that it took so long for Australia to join the dozens of countries around the world who offer paid parental leave schemes, and that the model we did end up with is right down the bottom end of the scale in terms of length of leave and percentage of wage that the parents are entitled to.

I mean, if Bulgaria can finance 52 weeks at 100% of wage, plus another year at minimum wage, with the leave allowed to be taken by the father or a grandparents, I’m not sure how we ended up with 18 weeks leave at minimum wage, starting in two years from now!

In addition to paid parental leave, what many Australian parents are looking for is flexibility. Sending your child to daycare is less guilt-inducing if you can attend special Mother’s Day Morning teas or Christmas concerts. The ability to work from home, now that technology often allows us to is another huge bonus for working parents, although is often only afforded to those at the higher end of the wage scale, who have ‘earned’ the right to call the shots over their working hours.

I’m so lucky that my partner and I both work in tech-forward businesses which enable flexibility, to some degree. But for those whose workplaces can’t or won’t bring in family-friendly policies to the workplace (and this isn’t just about people with kids – many of us have other commitments which would benefit from a better work/life balance), where does government policy leave them?

The high cost of childcare means that many families make the decision to cut down to one wage for an indefinite period of time, supplemented by family tax benefits which do not stimulate the economy the same way that paid parental leave does.

While I’m so glad we’ve made the first step towards more equitable workplaces for parents, how about taking the next step and thinking about how we can improve workplaces beyond the first 18 weeks?

*Joking! Ebay won’t let you sell human remains, tissue or fluids.

I’ll give you a hint: “Get this baby out of here!”

By thirty-five weeks the sexy second trimester is well and truly over and it’s a downhill race to the birthing suite. My back is stuffed, my ankles are starting to puff (fortunately not as badly as last time) and even maternity clothes feel ill-fitting and uncomfortable. Unless there’s a special event on, even celebs seem to abandon make up and hairbrushes — so you can guess my level of grooming at the moment. Look, you’re lucky I’m getting off the couch at all.

In many ways, it’s wonderful to have an end in sight, and I can’t wait to meet my baby girl. Next week will be my last in the office and then the nesting period can begin. It won’t be quite the same this time with a toddler to look after, but at least that will keep my mind of the waiting game and hopefully stop too many kilos creeping on in the last weeks. I’ve put on twelve so far and that’s quite enough, thank you.

I wish I looked as upbeat and cute as Jennifer Garner or M.I.A:

But I’m feeling more like Naomi Watts. Just give me the fricken’ lattes, OK?

There is one heavily pregnant celebrity who blows all others out of the water. Sure, J-Lo and Ange carried their twins in style, but for sheer bumpage, you can’t go past Octomom:

I mean seriously. How did she even stand up without toppling over? I’ll never whinge about stretchmarks again.

I slept in a little, then worked in my pyjamas for a while before taking Finn down to the park. The sun was shining, the playground was bully-free and while there I ran into another mother I knew from Finn’s music class.

We had a chat while the kids chased each other around the playground, then headed to the local cafe for a snack and to feed the kids milkshakes.

Once sated, I cruised on over to the local op-shop, where I picked up an enormous bag of Duplo and some great baby clothes for the girl child.

I then headed home and put Finn to sleep before basking in the glow of my own parental perfection.

Unfortunately made the mistake of boasting about my morning to other mothers, who quickly reminded me that things would not be so easy with two children.

Just getting out of the house will require double the co-ordination, then there’ll be double nap-times to consider and feeding schedules to work around. I may spend a good portion of the first few months covered in vomit and rocking a little 4kg bundle from side to side.

All week the fear has been building. Am I mad? Is it too late to turn back (umm, yes.) I wonder if the babysitting offers will dry up once there are two little munchkins to feed and put to bed.

Holiday accommodation will get a whole lot more expensive as we can no longer just book a studio and pop up a port-a-cot. I can expect fights over who wants the green cup and what DVD to play. Everything suddenly seems… so much more complicated.

But something struck me while watching the rather strange Michael Jackson memorial today. Looking at Paris, Prince and Blanket (well, they are their names) I felt desperately sorry for these poor children, who never knew their mother and had now lost their father. Hidden behind masks until now, then thrust into the spotlight at their father’s funeral of all places, I don’t think these kids are in for an easy ride.

At least they have each other though, and that’s why we do it, right? I’m throwing my son a lifejacket and hoping it helps keep his head above water.

Pregnancy update: Baby is head down and threatening to engage. Starting to feel the downwards pressure – only seven weeks to go!

I’m far from a hippy, but the facts on disposable nappies make me pretty ill. Australians use 800 million disposable nappies per year, which ends up as 145,000 cubic metres of landfill. That’s enough to fill the MCG at least three times over each and every year. A single disposable nappy can take as long as 500 years to decompose in landfill. Gross, huh?

Last time, I had the excuse of living in a flat with no outside drying area for why I couldn’t use cloth nappies. Now I have a clothesline, there’s no reason not to give it a try.

Except, that is, that you practically need a PHD in Modern Cloth Nappy (MCN) lingo to figure out what to buy.

I don’t think I’m particularly dim, but when you’re shopping for nappies and the terms “Fuzzi bunz size small and Bumgenius OSFM” appear, well, I need a Guide for Dummies (this glossary is a good place to start).

You see, cloth nappies have changed since the terry towelling squares our mothers pinned us in to. Modern Cloth Nappies are made from fabrics like hemp or bamboo and are often cut into a ‘fitted’ nappy shape, just like a disposable. Some are all-in-one jobs, others have pockets that can be stuffed with more absorbent materials. Then there are the associated liners, covers, boosters and fasteners. Confusing much?

Most cloth nappy brands have cute, often scatological names like BumGenius, Monkey Doodlez, Happy Heiney’s or Fuzzibunz.

My own ’stash’ so far contains a few Tot Bots Bamboozles, some Mother-ease covers, a Blueberry AIO and a few homemade terry fitted nappies. I’ll probably need many more to have enough for every day of the week: a full time package of one-size, all-in-one cloth nappies (with washing every 2 days) is about $850.

If that sounds like a hell of a lot of money to spend on poo-cloths, consider that disposable nappies will set you back about $20 a week, for at least two years, plus overnight nappies for a year or more after that. We’re talking several thousand bucks, folks, without factoring in the environmental impact.

The environmental savings aren’t actually that incredible — great article on the subject in The Independent — but when combined with the cost savings it’s a pretty compelling option.

For more tips on sustainable parenthood, check out the new book Sustainable Baby by Debbie Hodgson. Billed as ‘A parent’s practical guide for consuming less and living better’, it is full of simple ideas for living a less commercial lifestyle, like how to re-use clothes and make your own baby food.

I’m speaking to Debbie today and hoping to get a few special tips for Babble readers.

Here’s a thought: if I wanted your opinion, I’d ask!

So I pretty much never bring up the topic, unless a new name has sprung to mind and I am contemplating on whether to add it to The List. Then I might ask. This drives friends and family crazy. I know they mean well. But until people can keep their random and tenuous name prejudices out of the conversation, I’d rather just not go there, OK?

The List is an Excel spreadsheet that currently has 16 names on it. Not exactly a shortlist. But for some reason, I’m finding girl’s names infinitely harder to settle on than boys names. I’m pretty sure there are more of them, for starters. And so many of them are pretty and eminently suitable.

To even get to 16 names has been a long process. First, my husband and I went through a baby name book and came up with individual lists, which we then cross-referenced and combined, vetoing any that either of us really disliked. I am still unsure why he doesn’t like Violet and Audrey, but we run our marriage as a democracy, so all I can do is hmmph in protest.

Then I visited the fabulous Nymbler site to find more names based on our preferences. The site uses a list of your preferred names to generate more in that style. You can then build up a list of your favourites and email to your partner. Too easy!

Once we had a big list, it was time to start refining. This is when I sought the opinion of a few trusted friends on the names I wasn’t so sure about. I also checked out the NSW Births Deaths and Marriages website to see which 100 girls names were most popular last year. I don’t want a kre8ive name like Myk’nzie, but nor do I want my daughter to be one of five Emilys in her class.

The next step was saying all the names out loud combined with our chosen surname (my husband’s). Combinations which look find on paper can sound dreadful when spoken – the very lovely Amelia was discarded for this reason.

Which brings us to our present list of 16 names. I’ll try to refine these more over the coming weeks, but I’ve got a feeling my baby will be one of those poor sods who remain unnamed for the first few days of life. How does Baby X sound?

Quick pregnancy update: A midwife visit this week revealed that baby has indeed turned head down! She’s punching my guts out at the moment, as 31-33 weeks is often the peak of movement. All is looking well for a late August delivery.