Tag Archive | pregnant

Out of time

Breech baby is still breech, and has now run out of time.

At my 37 week appointment this week Dr Eminem couldn’t even manipulate her head away from my ribs to get an accurate fundal height measurement. (Fundal height is now measuring 40 weeks but he thinks her head lessened the accuracy.)

He said booboo is well and truly stuck and her chances of turning on her own are basically nil.

He also said trying a proper manual turn (ECV) was going to have a less than 5% success rate based on her position and I would be putting her at risk by attempting it.

He did however say that he was trained in vaginal breech delivery and as he knew how badly I wanted to give birth naturally he was willing to consider this option for me. Yaayyy.

Then…he did an ultrasound.

First of all the baby’s head was already measuring 40+4 weeks. The rest of her measured 39 weeks which is spot on with our guess that I’m two weeks ahead of our original estimated due date.

The obstetrician explained that in breech deliveries the head size was super important to take into consideration because it’s the last thing to exit the body during birth.

When a baby comes out head first the plates in their skull are still flexible and able to overlap to ease the head through the birth canal. But in a breech delivery the skull is unable to flex as the baby is coming out chin first and no pressure is placed on the top of the head. This increases the risk of the baby becoming stuck.

Dr Eminem said with a head that size the risk to the baby is very significant during birth and it would be a high risk delivery. He explained if the baby gets her head stuck but her body has been delivered, they have to cut the hell out of me to try to free her and if that doesn’t work they need to push her back in to perform a c-section. Her chance of surviving is around 1%.

Second of all the baby is footling breech. She has one foot up by her face  (which she happily had in her mouth for most of the ultrasound) and the other down in my pelvis. This is why I still feel kicks top and bottom, which sometimes confuses me.

Dr Eminem said vaginal breech deliveries can’t even be attempted with footling breech babies as there’s no way to safely deliver them when their legs are split.

So basically let me sum this up for you: no vaginal breech delivery for me.

C-section is now absolutely the only way this baby is coming out of me. And let me tell you I am not yet coping.

Yes I know I know the safety of the baby is most important. I’m not a looney I totally get that. I would never do anything to jeopardize her.

But this is it. This is my only baby. The baby I was never supposed to have.

I will never get to experience labour. I’ll never get that surprise as I start to experience contractions. All the books I bought about calmbirth and hypnobirth are wasted. All my research is wasted. The playlist I spent months putting together for the delivery room is wasted.

I’d paid the deposit for a birth photographer and she isn’t allowed to come into the theatre room so I had to cancel and she kindly offered me a refund.

What I really badly wanted was to give birth in water – I mean I picked my hospital because they offer water birth as a standard option.

What I really badly wanted was to deliver the baby up onto my chest and after skin-to-skin and the first feed to get up and have a shower and move around.

Now I’ll be confined to bed for 24 hours and unable to lift my baby out of her hospital crib on my own. As James will be with me I will have no choice but to rely on him for support. That may or may not go badly.

I’ll also need to be given drugs intravenously. I am super anti drugs crossing the placental barrier through an epidural (particularly pethidine) and also through my breast milk. But now I have no choice.

As I’ve put on 20kg this pregnancy I was also super super keen to get up and get exercising straight away. I wanted to get back to the gym as soon as possible. Now the gym is right off the table and I won’t even be able to drive a car for 6 weeks!

It’s all just a cluster of fuckery I wouldn’t ever choose for myself or my daughter.

It’s the hand we’ve been dealt and I’m fully aware that c-sections aren’t a big deal. They’re super common and normal and fine and lots of women have them.

I’ve just waited six years for this event and built it up in my mind for so long. I wanted it so badly to be different and now I have to let go of that dream. Just another way my body has failed me.

What’s actually causing me to be the most upset and has brought on several panic attacks is why my baby is breech.

She has been breech since I was 30 weeks pregnant and not attempted to turn.

Google the reasons babies stay breech for extended periods of time and enjoy your trip down the rabbit hole.

Common reasons for breech

1. The placenta is low and the baby can’t engage. My placenta is high so this one isn’t relevant.

2. Too much or not enough amniotic fluid. My fluid levels are perfect so this one isn’t relevant.

3. A growth in the uterus such as fibroids. Of all the things wrong with my reproductive system this is one problem I’ve never had so this isn’t relevant either.

4. Fetal abnormalities.


There it is.

Sadie has gone straight to DEFCON 1 on this one. Welcome to my anxiety filled brain.

So many websites say a baby turning head down is considered their first milestone. My baby has missed that milestone. Why??

The risk of a baby that never turns head down having an abnormality is triple that of head down babies. Triple. TRIPLE.

Do you know what causes a lot of those abnormalities? A lack of folic acid.

Do you know what I have? A double gene mutation which stops my body properly absorbing folic acid.

I mean is my baby sick or disabled and have I caused it myself?

I spent hours on Thursday night hysterically crying to my mother. I was in such a panic and had totally convinced myself there was something very wrong with my baby.

It got to the point where my mother was shouting at me to calm down because I was just being irrational and not listening to logic.

The next day she did a lot of research of her own (she even went to the library!) and she found a super common reason babies don’t turn head down is maternal stress. The uterine muscles behave differently when the mother is under stress and the baby can’t turn or engage.

If there’s one thing I’ve dealt with in excess this entire pregnancy it’s stress. The James situation is a daily struggle and in many ways I’ve never experienced 9 months under greater stress. Not even IVF can match it.

Oh please oh please oh please let that be the reason.

There’s nothing I can do now and no way I can change or control anything. I have just under two weeks until the date of my scheduled c-section and all I can do is wait.

The main thing for me right now is keeping my anxiety under control and trying to remember I’ve done honestly everything within my power to keep this baby safe and healthy.

I love her. She is my everything. Nothing will change that, no matter what happens. I need to trust myself. Trust my baby. Trust my body (if that’s at all possible). Trust my mind to stay calm enough to get me through these last few days.

As always, I’ll keep you updated.

Sadie xx


Holding my breath

Something has changed.

It’s like a switch has been flipped in my brain and suddenly I’m no longer coping with being pregnant.

It started five days ago.

I woke up in the morning super congested with really bad allergies. My allergies have been really good lately so this attack came out of nowhere.

In the third trimester of pregnancy there is no safe or recommended antihistamine so I had no choice but to suck it up and solider on without medication.

By the time I had my morning tea break at work I’d already gone through more than half a box of tissues from constant sneezing.

My belly was aching really badly and every time I sneezed I was getting braxton hicks contractions. I was in a whole world of discomfort.

At lunch time my breech baby kept pushing her hands up under my gallbladder and I was in a lot of pain. I decided at that point I’d had enough suffering and went home from work.

For the rest of the afternoon I lay in bed sneezing and snoozing intermittently.

At dinner time my mother brought me in a hot cup of (decaf) tea and a piece of vegetable pie.

I drank the tea first as the baby had been quiet for many hours and hot tea is usually the fastest way to get a response out of her. Nothing.

Then I ate my pie, expecting that would kick her awake. Or at least kick her into kicking me. Nothing.

Getting a bit worried, I went to the kitchen and poured myself a large glass of lemonade filled with ice cubes.

Apart from the occasional cup of decaf tea I don’t drink anything other than milk or water so on the rare times when I do have fizzy drink the baby gets an intense sugar rush and bounces off my uterus walls for hours. Still nothing.

I went back to bed, lay on my left side and opened up the pregnancy app on my phone. It has a kick counter that I’ve only used once or twice because my super active baby doesnt need constant monitoring.

After almost an hour I’d still registered no movement despite the hot tea, dinner, cold lemonade, resting and even insistent prodding on my belly.

At 8.30pm I was suitably panicked enough to phone the maternity ward at the hospital.

“Paradise Private Hospital maternity ward, this is Kathy.” said the midwife who answered.

“Um hi…my name is Sadie, I’m a patient of Dr Eminem.” I started nervously. “I don’t mean to bother you but…”

Suddenly there was intense scuffling on the other end of the phone line.

“OH MY GOD!” shouted Kathy, right into my ear. “SHE IS HAVING THE BABY! IT’S COMING NOW! IT’S COMING!”

Then the phone went oddly silent.

Half a minute later, I was just about to hang up when another voice came on the line.

“Hi this is Jennifer how can I help you?”

“Um…” I said. “I don’t think it’s worth it. I can tell you guys are super busy…”

“Oh yes sorry about that.” said Jennifer. “Kathy had to rush off to help a patient give birth.”

As if that wasn’t glaringly obvious. I thought.

“Look I was just calling because I can’t feel my baby move. I haven’t felt her since lunch time. But don’t worry if you’re too busy.” I explained.

“How far along are you? Have you tried lying on your left side and drinking something cold?” Jennifer asked.

“I’m almost 35 weeks and yes I have.” I replied.

“Okay you’re going to need to come in immediately. Can you do that?” Jennifer asked.

It wasn’t the answer I was expecting but I agreed and told her I’d be up at the hospital within 20 minutes.

I went and explained to my mother that I had to go up to the hospital so she quickly changed out of her pajamas and came along with me.

By the time I arrived, the midwife Jennifer that I’d spoken to on the phone had already set up a room for me. They quarantined me inside in case my allergies were actually the flu, as they couldn’t risk the babies on the ward getting ill.

She hooked me up to a CTG machine, explaining the dual screen monitor.

“The red screen on the right is your heartbeat.” she said. “We need to track your heartbeat to ensure we don’t confuse it with the baby’s. The green screen on the left will show info about the baby.”

I could see on both the left and right screens my own heartbeat was registering at 97bpm.

The midwife then placed the toco (the toggle that reads the heart) on my tummy to monitor the baby. She moved it all around, trying to locate her. Nothing. No baby.

I watched as the mirrored heart rate on the dual screens slowly started creeping up.


“Where is she?” I asked. “Why can’t you find her heart beat?”

The midwife, concern creeping across her face, then started roughly pushing on my stomach. She was digging her fingers into my uterus so badly I wanted to scream out in pain but I kept my mouth firmly shut.

After what seemed like an eternity she cried out “Oh there’s her backbone!” and pushed the toco down on top of the hard lump she’d just located. The heart beat on the green screen jumped suddenly from 115bpm to 167bpm.

“Got her!” Jennifer said triumphantly and we both let out huge breaths of relief.

For a moment we watched as the baby’s heart danced between 150 and 170. The variation was good and meant the baby was healthy.

For the first time in hours I felt calm and started to relax. Jennifer seemed happy too and went across the room to fill in some details on my medical chart.

Suddenly the machine made a funny noise and just as we both looked over at it, the baby’s heart rate dropped to 90.

Mine was still 105bpm so the machine definitely wasn’t reading my heart beat accidentally.

Just as Jennifer started walking back across the room the baby’s heart flatlined for about 2 to 3 seconds before spiking to 205bpm.

“Oh my god what does that mean?” I asked in confusion.

“Um…Sadie…I know your baby is breech but did you want a vaginal birth or c-section?” she asked in reply.

“Err…vaginal?” I spluttered.

“I’m just going to step outside and phone your obstetrician.” She muttered before disappearing quickly out into the hallway.

Suddenly I started to panic. I wasn’t quite 35 weeks yet. Too early to have a baby. Even worse I hadn’t shaved my legs or washed my hair!

Then I realised something even more worrying. I hadn’t brought my super organised hospital bag with me. I was yet to pack a bag for the hospital…

The midwife came back a few minutes later and said that Dr Eminem suspected the baby was under a little stress due to my constant sneezing causing contractions. He wanted me monitored for a few more hours to see if she calmed down before considering any other options.

The midwife gave me a buzzer and told me to press it every time I felt the baby move, to determine whether spikes in her heart rate were related to movement. The machine itself was also registering movement so we could compare and contrast.

Her heart didn’t drop to 90 again, but it did spike above 200 on several occasions.

What was really interesting is that 75% of the time the machine would register movement when I didn’t. Like you could actually hear her move on the machine because Jennifer had the volume turned up.

You’d hear this sloosh of fluid like someone moving quickly in water and her heart would spike and the machine would register a movement. But I felt nothing.

Jennifer was very surprised that a baby of that size and gestation could get herself into a position where she was regularly moving but I wasn’t feeling any of it. But she said that was clearly the case.

“Nothing like this kind of news to make you super paranoid for the next 5 weeks!” she said. “Now you’ll never know if she’s stopped moving or you just can’t feel it.”

In the end it took a few hours but the baby’s heart rate completely stabilized so the doctor phoned in again and okayed me to go home.

But it was too late.

The damage was done.

I am now terrified my baby is going to die inside me and I won’t know it.

The paranoid anxiety of my first trimester, where every little sign and symptom meant the possibility of miscarriage…it was back. And it was worse.

I am living my life on a knife edge. I don’t know how to stop this. I don’t know how to unflip the switch.

I’ve come this far and I’ve spent all my money on her nursery and medical care. I’ve carried her for almost 9 months. And she might die. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

I’m already not sleeping well at night because of my constant need to pee. Now I’m waking myself up at least four times a night in some kind of panic because I need to check if the baby is alive.

I know it’s still too early but I just want her out now. I don’t care about a vaginal delivery anymore. Just cut her out of me. Let her come out of me alive.

I live my life in a cycle now. The baby kicks or I get a solid movement and my anxiety drops to zero. The seconds turn to minutes as I wait. I wait. I wait. My anxiety rises. I wait. My anxiety rises again. I’m panicking, eating sugary food, prodding her. She moves or kicks me. My anxiety drops to zero and the cycle repeats itself.

You see the thing is, since that hospital visit her movement patterns have genuinely changed.

I don’t get constant movement anymore. She can easily go still for 2 or 3 hours at a time. Is it just that I’m not feeling her anymore?

People keep saying babies movements decrease when labour is close. People keep dismissing my fears.

The other thing is I’m doing this on my own. I know my mum is an amazing support to me but James is very uninterested in my fears and just tells me I’m crazy.

“God wouldn’t let your baby die now.” he says dismissively. “Everything you went through with IVF and miscarriages…there’s no way God will take this one from you. God will look after this baby for you. That’s how God works.”

I forget sometimes that James is from a religious family. Mostly because he has the tendency to act like a complete douchecanoe. I’m not from a religious family so I have no freakin’ idea about how God works.

I do have an idea about science. I do know that statistically 1 in every 135 babies are stillborn in this country.

You can spin that and say well Sadie that’s less than 1%! The odds are in your favour!

I would then remind you that when I got my nuchal scan results my baby’s risk of carrying a chromosomal abnormality was 1 in 20,000 and I got really upset because I’d heard it was possible to get huge numbers like 1 in 300,000 and I felt like my results weren’t good enough.

If I was displeased by 1 in 20,000 how do you think I feel about 1 in 135?

My other fear is postnatal depression and anxiety. Having my anxiety spike now at almost 36 weeks pregnant does not bode well for my mental health right after the baby is born.

Or maybe 9 months of stress and trauma and dealing with baby daddy dramas are catching up with me. Coupled with the intense hormone dump I was warned to expect in my final weeks of pregnancy.

Maybe this is to be expected? Maybe it’s okay?

I don’t know.

But I’m scared. I’m really scared.

I just want my baby to be safe and healthy and in my arms.

I just want to let out this breath I feel like I’ve been holding for the past 5 days.

Please let the next few weeks pass by quickly. Please let the baby be okay. Please please please let this time be my time and this baby be my take-home baby.

Please please please.

Sadie xx

Fatso status report

So I had an ultrasound this morning.

The monster baby is still very happily breech with her giant head tucked snugly up against my gallbladder and stomach. 

Pressure from her big ol’ head is causing me to vomit a lot of what I’m eating at the moment and I also continue to have gallbladder attacks.

Never mind the fact I can’t lie flat without her head pushing up onto my right lung and making it hard to breathe…

Fundal height and baby size are both still tracking perfectly 2 weeks ahead and as this has now been the case for several months the obstetrician is starting to become convinced I’m closer to 37 weeks than 35 weeks.

If Fatso hasn’t turned in the next fortnight we are apparently going to have a serious chat about c-section delivery.

Honestly I’m not yet okay with this idea. I’ve waited six years to have a baby and we know this will be my only baby.

I wanted to at least give natural childbirth a crack. I wanted to experience it. I wanted the excitement and the discomfort and the feeling that I’d achieved something.

Instead I’m facing the potential of never going into labour and just arriving at the hospital at a pre-determined time to let a doctor cut me open and remove my monster baby.

An emergency c-section I’m totally fine with. If the baby is in distress or unhealthy get her the heck outta me as fast as you can to save her. No problemo. I won’t even be sad about it.

But an elective c-section (even if the reason for electing this option is the fact the baby is breech) just seems so depressing.

Plus we all know how I feel about c-sections increasing the risk of postnatal depression and anxiety…

But c’est la vie I suppose.

Nothing and nobody can change what’s going to happen now apart from Fatty Booboo.

If she would consider turning around and engaging her head in my pelvis fairly soon I’d be pretty darn stoked. But she is her father’s daughter so I’m sure I’ll cop nothing but trouble from her hahaha.

Sadie xx

The Safety Net mystery

In Australia, our universal healthcare system is called Medicare.

To give you a basic rundown (mainly for the Americans who have a totally different system) anytime we use a public hospital it’s totally free. Our public hospitals are extremely high standard and often better equipped than private hospitals, so we tend to use them majority of the time.

No matter whether you go in for a sprained ankle and spend five hours in the emergency department, or attend three times a week for cancer treatment over the course of two years, or have a serious car accident and need five surgeries then spend three months in a ward…all totally free.

Other things outside the hospital setting are charged differently and attract different levels of “benefits”.

If you are a low income earner you get a healthcare card and then things like visits to your local doctor’s clinic, x-rays, psychiatry, pathology and dental treatments are free for you.

If you aren’t a low income earner then these benefits are partial subsidies. So for example, if Medicare decides that the scheduled fee (benefit) to visit a local doctor is $35 then that’s the subsidy amount you receive.

If Doctor A charges $65 for a visit then he is charging $30 above the scheduled fee and you will be required to pay $30 out of pocket rather than the full amount. If Doctor B charges $40 then you will only be required to pay $5 out of pocket, because it’s only slightly above the scheduled fee. And if Doctor C bulk bills then that means they only charge the scheduled fee so it costs you nothing.

(I do have a point to all of this by the way. I’m not just giving you a quick lesson in universal healthcare. I promise.)

To make life easier for people who have higher than average medical costs (for example people who often need to see doctors or get medical tests…in other words, people like me…) the Government has something called the Medicare Safety Net.

Depending on your individual circumstances, each citizen is set a threshold amount. Once you reach this threshold in out of pocket medical expenses, the Medicare Safety Net provides a higher Medicare benefit for all eligible services for the rest of the calendar year.

So for the example used above, if you haven’t met the Safety Net threshold then you get a $35 benefit if you see a local doctor. But once that threshold is reached your benefit may increase to $50 for each visit so your out of pocket expenses obviously become much less.

Now see there’s an added benefit to being married in Australia. Because the Medicare Safety Net for a single person without a healthcare card is $2030. So once a person reaches $2030 in out of pocket costs, they get the added benefits.

But if you are married or in a de facto relationship, you can combine both partners medical expenses and still only need to meet that same threshold of $2030. Twice as easy!

For all the years my ex-husband and I were going through IVF this was fantastic because I would reach the Safety Net almost immediately at the start of the year (egg collections, specialist visits, ultrasounds etc were only billed under my name) and then Doug would also get cheaper medical treatment for the rest of the year.

Well this pregnancy has unfortunately fallen across two calendar years in a very awkward way. I was 20 weeks pregnant when the clock struck midnight on New Years Eve.

So exactly half of my costs were in 2015, and half in 2016. For example the Harmony test and initial ultrasounds ($750 out of pocket) were in 2015, but my obstetrics management fee for the private hospital where I’m going to give birth ($1250 out of pocket) was in 2016.
So even though I’ve spent a lot of money, unfortunately it took me until the end of February to finally hit my threshold for the year and start accessing the higher medical benefits.

Except here is the thing (and here’s the point to this blog post that you’ve all been patiently waiting for)…

I logged into my online Medicare account last week and realised with a sickening dread that my ex-husband and I were still registered as a “family” for Medicare purposes.

He and I have been registered as a family for years, and obviously when our divorce was finalised last year some lawyer somewhere forgot to tell us to separate our Medicare files. So we were still linked.

I was outraged.

“Oh hell no!” I shouted. “There’s no way in damnation that man is accessing cheap medical care for the entire year because of my medical expenses. No way. No how. Not going to happen.”

So I phoned Medicare, explained the situation, and asked them to legally separate our Medicare files so that we were no longer sharing a Safety Net.

At that point, I was feeling pretty smug about myself.

That buffoon of a man clearly thought he could just slip in undetected and access cheap medical because of my expenses? Because of my child’s expenses? Well how rude!

But today I’ve logged back into my Medicare account online and something terrible has happened.

I’ve gone from sitting well above the threshold to dropping well below the threshold.

I’ve dropped right back down to having accumulated only $1500 in out of pocket expenses for the year. I still have another $530 to go!

I honestly don’t know how this is possible. It must mean that some of my medical expenses that I’ve paid this year aren’t listed on the schedule of benefits.

It also means Doug has spent a huge amount of money on out of pocket medical expenses in the first three months of the year.

This is just…unheard of.

In the whole time we were married I only ever remember him being seriously ill once, when we both had whooping cough. All his other expenses were fertility treatment related.

So of course my first reaction was to freak out – like, oh my god he’s sick. Is he okay? Is he dying? What’s wrong with him? He can’t die he’s the love of my life. I’ll die if he dies.

My second reaction was one of terrifying realisation – majority of his medical expenses over the past ten years have been fertility related. I know he has a new love in his life (thanks to a blabber-mouthed acquaintance filling me in on the news at the end of last year).

Does that…..is he…..could this….I mean….is that evil fucker doing…fertility treatment? With her? With the new girl?

And then I think back to the night he left me.

The night he told me he had to leave because he wanted to have children so badly, but I was incapable of giving them to him without IVF. And he couldn’t do IVF ever again because it was just too hard.

Has he changed his mind? Does he love this new girl more than he ever loved me? And so he is willing to do IVF with her?

The mere thought of it makes me want to vomit. And then kill him with my bare hands. And then vomit again.

Then I think about what my doctors told me when I fell pregnant this time around – the real reason I’d been unable to have children previously was a male fertility factor. He’d been the main cause of our infertility. Not my endometriosis, not my PCOS, not even my blocked Fallopian tubes.

So maybe he knows this now too. Maybe he knows now that IVF is actually his only option.

But not with me.

With the new girl.

The problem wasn’t actually the IVF. It was just me. I wasn’t good enough. He just didn’t love me.

And I’m 34 weeks pregnant.

And I’m super hormonal.

And I sometimes still miss my husband.

And I sometimes still dream about my husband.

And in my dreams he is the father of my unborn child.

And the idea that he’s undergoing fertility with someone else makes me want to cry and cry and cry and cry.

What if our lives were supposed to be a Nicholas Sparks novel?

Like we divorce but then re-discover each other years later, only for Doug to gasp in shock when he meets my precocious young daugher. Instead of being upset he thinks she is wonderful because she has my eyes. The eyes of his true love…

Then we each realise we’d never stopped loving each other, and even though I’m trapped in a loveless marriage, we share one amazing night of passion. I go home to tell my husband I’m leaving him, but then find out Doug has been killed trying to rescue stranded puppies in a freak tornado.

Devastated by my loss, I only find a reason to go on living when I discover a month later that our one soulful night of love-making had created miraculous new life. A son that I name Doug junior…


Now there can be no Nicholas Sparks ending. He has RUINED it.

This is ridiculous I know! Because I am having a baby with a man who isn’t my husband! I can clearly see how hypocritical I’m being.

But you guys my baby was a total accident. There’s a difference between a whoopsie accidental pregnancy and seeking fertility treatment.

If he’s doing fertility treatment it means he’s fully in love and super happy and wanting to start a family with this stupid trog.

I’m also aware that this freak-out is totally illogical. I mean I have no idea why he’s managed to incur so many out of pocket medical expenses.

Maybe he was in a car accident and needed a lot of x-rays.

Maybe he has something wrong with his back and needed lots of physiotherapy.

Maybe he has decided to have a sex change and he is paying for hormone treatment.

Maybe someone finally decided he was a smug little jerk and beat the shit out of him, so now he needs cosmetic surgery to fix his face…

In the end it doesn’t matter.

I know it doesn’t matter.

His medical expenses are none of my business. He is no longer my business.

But damn it I want to know!

What are you up to, Doug? What exactly is going on here?

It kills me that I can’t know.

It still hurts me so badly that I’m finally having a child, but that amazing event in my life has nothing to do with my ex-husband.

The man who was my forever. Who promised to love me until the day I died. And all the other blah blah blah lies that he told and I foolishly believed.

Nothing to be done about it, and I’m very aware that it’s silly I’m upset over this.

Just needed to vent, I guess.

If you’ve taken nothing else from this ridiculous blog post, at least now you will pass a pop quiz on the Medicare system and the Safety Net threshold.

This is a very important life skill.

You’re welcome you guys. You’re welcome…

Sadie xx

p.s if you steal my romance novel idea I’m going to be super pissed at you

A quick update

I’m still here. Still pregnant. Still chugging along quite nicely.

I haven’t had time to blog because most of my days are consumed with counting my new stretch marks. They appear faster than I can count them.

No…not really.

(But seriously though stretch marks are a curse and a plague. All those bitches who didn’t get stretch marks can take a hike.)

The real reason I haven’t been blogging is mainly work related. My boss is away for 6 weeks and I’ve been temporarily promoted into her role. It means much longer hours at work and much busier tasks because I’m doing her role, plus my own at the same time.

I’m loving that they trust me to do this role at 34 weeks pregnant. But also terrified that I’m doing this at 34 weeks pregnant.

That, coupled with the fact I’m still not sleeping great at night. The baby has turned breech and her gigantic boof head is permanently lodged under my ribcage on my upper right side. Her favourite thing to do right now is put her hands above her head and dig into my ribs. She’s a violent little bugger…

If you remember I had gall bladder problems around 7 weeks pregnant and had to go to hospital. Well now she’s pushing up against my stomach and gall bladder day and night and I’m in constant pain. Particularly when I eat. Yay!

My doctor is getting a bit concerned and says I’m having regular gall bladder attacks now. They’re monitoring the situation as they can’t remove my gall bladder until the baby has been evicted from her stretch marked palace.

In other news, I want to thank those of you who gave me advice about the whooping cough booster. I did further research, thought long and hard, and then decided to get my shot a few weeks ago.

I was completely paranoid  for the first few days after I received the shot, but now I’m very happy with my decision and feeling confident that fatso will have some of my vaccine protection when she’s born.

Speaking of being born, I went to the bathroom yesterday (as I tend to do 100 times a day) and when I wiped I noticed what looked like a giant piece of snot on the toilet paper.

I called my mother into the bathroom, told her I had something extremely gross to show her, and asked her if she thought part of my mucus plug had fallen out.

“Oh I wouldn’t know.” said my mother. “I never had a mucus plug with any of my pregnancies.”

For a moment I just looked at her like she’d grown a second head, and she looked back at me like I was silly.

“You…had a mucus plug…” I said slowly. “Every pregnant woman has a mucus plug.”

“No. Not me.” she replied confidently.

“Maybe you’ve just forgotten?” I suggested.

“No.” she said adamantly. “I never had them. Never. They’re a new thing.”

“You did, Mum.” I insisted. “They’re not a new thing. They aren’t artificially added to pregnancies through some sort of medicinal technological advancement. They’re just…there. For every woman. For every pregnancy. It stops bacteria getting into the uterus.”

“Oh well if you say so.” she shrugged. “But if I had one, I never saw it.”

Is she right here? Or am I right? Or am I crazy? Or what?

I mean maybe she just never saw her plugs? That’s possible right? Maybe she didn’t have a bloody show and didn’t lose the plugs until she was in labour?

Anyway…moving right along to something even more gross than mucus plugs…

Two boys have asked me out in the past two weeks.

Am I the only person really sickened by this?

I mean what are these guys thinking? I’m massively pregnant and neither of them know the full situation with James.

I was warned about this. I was warned that some guys are just into pregnant girls. I didn’t believe it was true until now.

One of them told me I was a MILF and he meant it in the very literal sense of the acronym. I mean that’s just…creepy.

The other told me I’m a total babe and he’d love to take me out to dinner.

Ew. No. Go away. Never come near me again.

To be honest things are going much, much better with James. I’ll properly update on that situation soon but for the most part since he moved back to the city we have stopped fighting, our communication is heaps better and he’s much more supportive.

I’d say we’re back in a very friendly place. Not a place where I’m looking to reconcile with him, but a place where we can co-exist happily as friends.

He has even started sending me money to help out with my bills. Not a huge amount of money, but anything is more than nothing. He’s given me $600 so far. Nothing compared to the thousands I’ve spent, but at least he’s making an effort.

He also sat through eight hours of antenatal classes with me a couple of weeks ago. That’s a whole lot of hours for a guy who refused to even pay attention to my 20 minute nuchal scan a few short months ago. I know his behaviour tends to change rapidly, but I’d say at the moment he gets an A+ for attitude improvement.

When I told him these guys had asked me out he got super angry and said he wanted to drive to Paradise and kick their asses for trying to date me while I’m a month away from giving birth to his child. And I totally get where he’s coming from. That would make me mad too.

Thankfully I diffused the situation and there was no ass kicking involved. Particularly as I stressed I wasn’t interested in dating anybody at this time, or any time in the near future. Because…gross.

And that’s pretty much it for this post.

Lots more to talk about but my lunch break at work is over and I’ve got about 100 things to do before the day is over.

Hopefully update soon!

Sadie xx

p.s I got some professional maternity photos taken last week and I’m seriously in love with them. Is there a way I can post them privately and you guys still see them? I don’t want the whole of the internet to see them but happy for my followers to catch a glimpse of my face without the protective heart sticker haha.

The baby shower!

So I had my baby shower on the weekend.

That’s actually really weird for me to say because I never, ever thought I would have a baby shower.

I mean I never thought I would have a baby. I still don’t, if I’m honest with you. I’m still waiting for that other shoe to drop.

Even when my baby shower invitations were ordered and then sent out to people, it still didn’t feel like a tangible thing. It felt like someone else’s life. I kept on worrying that somehow having a baby shower would bring me bad luck.

I also felt really bad asking people to bring me gifts, so I put on the invitations that presents weren’t necessary. I know the gifts are for the baby, but I’m not the kind of person who likes people to go out of their way for me or fuss over me. I don’t feel comfortable as the centre of attention.
Not to mention the fact that I stressed for weeks in the lead up to the event that hardly anybody would turn up.
For basically 10 years I belonged to the same group of friends, and Doug got custody of them in our divorce. I haven’t even seen any of them since the day we split and I don’t think they even know where I live nowadays let alone that I’m pregnant. So obviously none of them were invited to my shower.
20 months ago when Doug left me (has it actually been that long?!) I was lucky enough to make a new group of friends in the city. Just as I was starting to really become ingratiated in that little clique, I up and moved to Paradise. For the most part I tried to stay in touch with my city friends, but it just wasn’t the same.
Then I had just started making some new friendships here in Paradise when I fell pregnant, went through the emotional hell that I’ve previously documented on my blog and basically became a social hermit.

Not to mention my three closest friends are all males so they couldn’t be invited because it was a girls-only event.

Plus the fact that some of my “close” friends had reacted really badly when I announced I was pregnant 12 weeks ago and had refused to congratulate me.
Basically, because I felt like I didn’t have any super close girlfriends left in either the city or Paradise I was getting chest pain anxiety that my mother and I would be sitting alone at my baby shower surrounded by uneaten cupcakes and cucumber sandwiches.
It didn’t help that a whole swag of people never bothered to RSVP to the invites I sent out, and of those who did respond, five pulled out in the few days before the baby shower.

My mother spent a week in the lead-up to the event slaving away organising decorations, planning games, baking cookies and cakes and making so much food it could feed an army. I kept on begging her not to put in so much effort in case nobody showed up.

On the morning of my baby shower, I stupidly weighed myself. I was officially up 17kg (37 pounds) on my pre-pregnancy weight. I was absolutely appalled and devastated and ashamed and every other negative adjective you can think of.

Although to be honest I’m pretty sure each of my breasts weighs 3kg each at the moment because they’re hard and heavy like rocks.

This is the part where I shamefully admit that I wore pregnancy spanx under my baby shower dress to smooth my lumps and bumps. No, I didn’t know they made pregnancy spanx either. But it turns out that they do! And I love them.

I may even marry them. After I’ve married my pregnancy pillow. Yes I will be in a polygamous marriage with my spanx and my pregnancy pillow. That’s not unusual at all, right? 

Anyway, I got myself all ready for the baby shower – still expecting nobody to show up – and did my hair all pretty. Then I stepped outside and realised it was 34 degrees (93F) outside and there was no way I was going to cope in the heat with my hair down. My makeup was basically melting off my face.

At that point, my cousin Phoebe turned up so she took me back into my bathroom and did my hair for me so it still looked pretty but was up off my neck. I was extremely grateful.

Then the doorbell started ringing.

At first it was just my family – my aunt, some cousins, my grandmother.

Then suddenly I couldn’t even get the front door shut because girls kept turning up so rapidly. Fourteen of the people who turned up had even driven two hours from the city to be there!

In the end I had 27 family members and girlfriends attend the baby shower, which was completely above and beyond anything I had ever expected. I mean we didn’t even have enough chairs for everybody! Luckily my mother had organised all that food because it was certainly needed.

The other thing that shocked me was that every single person who walked through that door was carrying a gift. I had specifically printed on the invitation not to bring me anything, but they’d gone ahead and bought gifts anyway.

I’d left a little space on a side table in the kitchen in case a few people turned up with something small. But the gifts overtook the whole table and then spilled onto the floor and were just everywhere. Honestly I was completely overwhelmed and didn’t know how to even react.

From that point onward everything was pretty chaotic. I didn’t get to sit down or eat anything because every 15 seconds someone else called my name and wanted to talk to me.

Girls wanted tours of the nursery, everyone wanted to touch my belly, everyone wanted photos. I got some amazing photos and I’m so sad I can’t share them with you. I’ll be weird and just post a few with faces covered.

There were a few glitchy moments during the afternoon…

James’ mother, stepmother and sister all turned up for the event – which I was very grateful for.

But there was a giant card by the front door for people to sign their well wishes for the baby. Every single person wrote “To Sadie…” and then left a nice message.

The three of them were the only ones who wrote “To James and Sadie…” which I felt was very passive aggressive. Especially as they are completely aware of the situation and the way James has treated me in the past.

I mean James wasn’t at the baby shower and had specifically said he’d rather die than attend because it didn’t interest him. So why include him?! In a weird way I almost felt like it ruined the card because now his name is stuck on it forever.

The other weird moment was when everyone was sitting out on the back patio chatting happily, when James’ stepmother suddenly says “Oh Sadie have I told you the latest news on my granddaughter?”

James’ stepsister has a 10 month old baby who is severely disabled. She has microcephaly, is blind, deaf, mute and unable to even cry, amongst other health problems. She basically lives in the hospital and has a very poor prognosis.

This has caused me immense stress during my pregnancy, because none of her health issues were picked up in-utero. As a first time mum who already has quite serious anxiety, the idea that something similar could be wrong with my own baby is very frightening.

James had specifically told his stepmother on multiple occasions not to raise the subject of the disabled baby around me because it was causing me to have panic attacks. Not to say that I don’t care because I really do, just that I can’t cope with the horrible news at the moment. It sets me off into a panic.

But she sat there at the table, surrounded by my friends and family and gave me a full report on the baby’s prognosis. Talking about a dying baby at a baby shower isn’t overly appropriate and made me feel kind of sick to my stomach.

Other than that, the whole day was wonderful.

I received some amazing gifts which I was so grateful for.

My aunt gave me a tiny silver baby bracelet with a little diamond encrusted baby charm on it. I have no idea why my kid needs a fancy diamond encrusted bracelet but now she has one hahaha.

One of my newer friends from Paradise brought me a huge gift bag full of books for the baby. I’m so excited to read to her and have been keeping all my own childhood books for her, but now she will have her own new books too. I was so happy I almost cried.

I received a few toys – some rattles, stuffed toys and some of those fancy light up singing educational toys that I know babies love. She was also given one of those play mats for newborns that have the toys hanging above them. What are they called? Play gyms?

Ummmm…heaps of baby wipes, nappies, baby shampoo, nappy balm, lotions, some gift cards, clothes, hats, beanies, socks, mittens, wash cloths. Honestly there was so much stuff I can’t even recall most of it.

One of my friends gave me some candles and bath salts to pamper myself too because she wanted me to have my own little gift and not just stuff for the baby. I thought that was very sweet. She also gave me a whole heap of chocolates to pack into my hospital bag – clearly she knows me very well haha.

Oh and my brother’s girlfriend gave me a gift on behalf of both of them: the Bright Starts Ingenuity Baby Swing (click for here more info) which I really badly wanted but couldn’t afford and also some money in a card to buy a charlichair (also click for more info) which was the other thing at the top of my list. In no way did I ever expect anyone to be so generous.

I’m so excited that my brother is so excited to become an uncle. Particularly as his initial reaction to my pregnancy was negative and he blurted out that I’d made a huge mistake. I’m close with my brother and so glad he’s now fully on board.

But anyway.

The point is my baby shower was an amazing day. It was surreal and wonderful.

For the first time in my whole pregnancy I felt truly loved and supported instead of stressed and isolated.

I will be forever grateful to my mother for hosting such a lovely afternoon for me and I’m so glad everything went so smoothly.

Now for the photos with the weird blurred out faces!

This is me at 31 weeks pregnant. Can you say huuuuuge mama? Not just a huge bump but the fact I’m carrying 17 extra kilograms!

The hairstyle my cousin Phoebe jazzed up for me – complete with a fresh flower.

The backyard all set up for the event (obviously before everyone arrived…)

Just a small sample of the decorations. My mother did that bunting by hand!

Some of the cakes and cookies my mum baked. My biggest regret is everyone eating the food before I could take photos of it – particularly the cakes!

More food…

My mum even created a weird fruit baby hahaha!

My littlest baby thorougly enjoyed being passed around and cuddled by 27 adoring women.

Opening just a few of my gifts and trying not to blubber because I was so grateful.

This is my friend who said Rachel was a yuk name so if your name is Rachel feel free to send bad vibes her way hahaha (no I’m kidding don’t actually do that…).

My brother’s girlfriend – the one who gave me the amazing baby swing. We sent this photo to him and told him that babies are catching. He was horrified!

This is James’ sister. I am 31 weeks pregnant in this photo and she is 29 weeks pregnant. Can you see now why I am so self conscious about my body? And never mind my chicken vagina – she proudly announced on Facebook she has zero stretchmarks at all. *Sigh*

My lovely mum who made the whole day possible. Don’t ask me why I look so rotund in this photo I think it’s just a bad angle..

I wish I could share heaps more photos with you guys but they all have too many faces in them to block out.

So you’ll just have to take my word for it that the day was very special and I’m a very happy mama-to-be.

Sadie xx


Why I’m keeping my kid’s name a secret…

Exhibit A:


(I guess it’s a good thing her name isn’t Rachel)

Straight after I received this message, the same friend messaged again to guess the name was Bethany. Then followed up with “no scrap Bethany it’s gross and old” so I suppose it’s also a good thing her name isn’t Bethany.

Surprisingly, this friend isn’t allowed any more guesses…