Closing airways

The last few days, have been a blur. David took Peter to the emergency room at our local hospital, when he had problems breathing and was vomiting. By the time they got there, he was very limp and barely conscious. They saw him immediately, and a team of medical staff quickly ensued.

Fell asleep (with his sister) at midday ~

Mario and Luigi came to hospital, along with his favourite blankey

David and Sarah took the day-shift at the hospital, and I took the night-shift. He responded quickly to oxygen, but struggled to keep food down. I'm grateful we live in a country that will treat our children, regardless of whether they have health insurance or not. Because we didn't have to worry, when an overnight stay was advised.

He's back home now, and all is returning to normal. Except we are now treating him, for asthma. It only occurs when he has a respiratory infection - which is likely what he caught from school. So his medication is socked away, and ready to use, when required.

I have some gardening posts I want to get around to soon. For now though, we're just taking time to recuperate.

Bush baby

We've been living at Gully Grove for nine years, since Easter. It's where we've lived the longest in our married lives, and as a family. Our eldest daughter came to live here at four. I wish we had the time then, to spend with her in the garden, as we did with her younger brother. But those days, were filled with fears we brought back from the burbs with us. That she might get eaten by dingos and poisoned by snakes.

We know this place better now though, and while we've seen our fair share of snakes, we're not those nature-phobic suburbanites we once were. So when a new person came into our lives back in 2013, we didn't realise it, but we were bringing home a bush baby.

2013 ~ Peter comes home

Now we have the confidence and experience, to show our youngest the ropes at Gully Grove. He's lived here, for nearly three seasons of his new life, and its time to do what all young people are born to do. Explore!

 2016

You can find any number of logs to sit on, and scratch at the texture of the wood. Thinking why is it like that, and can I scratch it some more?

 Click image to enlarge

Then, of course, the taste test! All logs must be sampled because they are there and that's what you do when you're exploring in nature. Logs may be in the process of decaying, but that doesn't make them uninteresting or without flavour.

Logs placed across an empty water course, must also be traversed. First tried by crawling, then when all courage has gone...

...you can always call on Dad, to give a helping hand. These little steps, don't have to be experienced alone. Although, sometimes...

...you simply must give it a try all by yourself, because it looked so possible when Dad was by your side. Maybe you didn't get it this time, but it takes practice.

Running to a big, old tree, seemed a lot easier. The ground was more stable and the tree was comforting, standing up, instead of laying down. But then, someone else came to help.

Big sisters, we buy shirts which are way too big for, can help you across the logs too. Sometimes you need help, when you're learning new things. You will eventually master the balance in nature, you are looking for.

In the meantime, there are sandpits to play in. We made this sandpit for you. Or rather, nature did, when we blocked the water course with branches and debris. The running water drops silt now, instead of taking it away. There are lots of things to learn about nature, but the best part is experiencing it.

You showed me a clump of sand, you managed to excavate. I don't know how. It was tightly compacted, which made it look like a rock at first. Then we carefully turned it over, and found a little surprise underneath.

A tiny plant was clinging onto that clump of sand. You know what plants are, because mum is always showing you them. We like plants. They help us to keep cool, and grow into beautiful gardens. The kind you can run in.

And run in....

...and run, some more!

I couldn't catch you. My camera barely could. You're way too fast for me. But then we eventually found Dad and Sarah again. Just in time to hear Dad tell a story, about the dragon in our gully. The one we feed, by putting debris into the waterway. It stops to eat and get fatter, instead of being skinny and forced to eat up all our dirt instead.

Maybe they're just stories. But maybe there's just some truth in them too? Out here in the bush, you can look up to the sky, and think things, you cannot think anywhere else.

The sky, where the tall trees come to meet it - and if they didn't, it would be lonely for everyone. Especially us people, looking up to nothing and forgetting who we are and what belongs up in the sky. The trees point up there, where all life comes from.

Of course, when we aren't down in the gully, soaking in the magic of the bush, we have other things to keep us in contact with nature too. Like dinosaurs which use to belong to your sister. They visit the potted plants, around the verandah. Taking care, only to eat a little of the vegetation. Please. Only a little.

But there will always be more to explore, for our little bush baby, as he grows and discovers he can do more. And for his big sister too, we hope to build something for her to visit in the garden soon . A place where growing adults can have space for their thoughts. To draw or to read. Basically, just to be themselves.

It started with a move, followed by a lot of gardening, and rather unexpectedly, a flood. Not to mention, two young ones we've been raising in the meantime. I can understand why people become so attached to places they're familiar with. The stories and the experiences, get longer and more involved.

Next year will be a decade, living here. What stories will we have to share then? What stories will they share too, when we are long gone? I hope they remember this little place of ours. Of hungry dragons and tall trees. That we matter through it all, and we shouldn't forget. Because this is home, this planet of ours, and we need those things. Always.

Officially a tott!

 Back from the markets

Someone turned two this weekend. They went to the local markets with dad to buy some yummy fruit, and picked out a handmade wooden train, made from a local craftsman.

9" cake (made gluten free)

The night before, I was busy making New York Baked Cheesecake, adding the black cherry topping this morning. Which made this little Mister, quite a happy chappy!

Someone likes cake

Given that his sister's birthday was a few weeks earlier, he seemed to know what blowing out the candle was, without needing any prompting from us. Even before we got the candles on, he was practicing his blowing at the cake. But it was more fun when everyone joined in!

Make a wish

Then it was time to taste the cake. We think our little Mister liked it. Frankly, so did we! Second helpings anyone?

Mmmm...

Still, there was plenty of leftovers for tomorrow, and probably the next day, and the day after that!

Never mind the mess!

It was a quiet day, with no special activities except the local markets, but we have been a busy family lately.  We still had a delicious cake though, blew out candles and even got a round of block playing (and demolishing) in with Dad.

My birthday is the last in the family, but thankfully still a few months away! No more cake!


UPDATE: I have a link to the cheesecake recipe. I tweaked it a little, by adding an extra 1/4 cup of crushed biscuits to the base, as well as another tablespoon of butter. For the cherry topping, I added an extra tablespoon of sugar, as well as 2 teaspoons of arrowroot flour to the cherry syrup, and simmered for a minute, before removing from the heat and gently stirring the cherries back in. That's because I couldn't find "cherry pie" filling, only black cherries in syrup.

When it baked, it rose over the tin but didn't spill over. Once it cooled a little out of the oven I was able to gently push the "muffin top" back into the tin. If I made this again, I would put a strip of oiled baking paper, around the edge of the springform pan, to hold it all in.

Looking dapper

A special little somebody, turned one recently. How the time has flown by and how he's transformed into a little boy, right before our eyes. What a cheeky little smile he has too, but if you're wondering where he gets that snazzy dress-sense from, just ask his dad...

David wanted to get Peter a tie and and outfit for his first birthday. My two special guys with ties! What a carefree and uneventful time we had for his first birthday, unlike the day of his arrival. I look at how happy he is today, taking his baby footsteps which make him giggle all the way to my legs - it's hard to remember that tiny baby in the humidicrib, with tubes in his arms which made me worry I couldn't hold him in mine.

What a difference twelve months can make. We'll be happy if the next twelve months are equally as uneventful. Smiling over regular stuff in life, holding hands and stealing as many cuddles as we can in a day. It may be uneventful, but what a way to live!

We're glad you came along, Peter, even if you do get into absolutely everything now with your eager curiosity and newly found motor skills. It's all just part of growing up. I bet the next year will fly by, just as quickly too! May you keep reminding us that smiles are infectious and you're never too young to wear a tie.


PS: This is a velcro tie, so comes off when pulled - in case anyone was worried it could be a choking hazard.

I wonder...

...if babies dream, what do they dream about? It must be wonderful, as Peter dreams a lot and even laughs in his sleep. This picture was taken not long before he developed a stomach bug, which his sister shared unintentionally. I have been covered in poop, vomit and preparing meals fit for sensitive tummies for several days now. Of all weeks for the washing machine to die, it had to be on the day we had a lot of mess to clean up too.

I managed to fix the washing machine, but not before creating another dandy wet mess, all over the laundry floor. Believe it or not though, I don't feel bad about it all. I don't feel life owed me anything special this week - as if it ever owes me anything.

We got through it as we so often do, together. Which is something worth smiling about, I reckon.

Peter's Story - days 6 - 8

Days six and seven, were Peter's first real taste of home. It's where he got to see his family in action, and where we got to see how everything suddenly changed around this new little person.

After our first bath at home

Peter enjoyed his first bath at home, and Dad was proud to see him wearing the "Doctor Who" body suit he got especially for him. I dedicated a lot of time breastfeeding, which I missed out on doing while in hospital. It was a lovely time.

Of course, speaking of 'hospital' there was a little proviso in leaving - getting a follow-up blood test to check how his borderline jaundice was progressing. On day eight, we had a lactation consultant appointment at the hospital (which was brilliant at helping me) and so we took Peter to do the blood test afterwards. Then it was off to catch-up on some food shopping!

Life was returning to normal. But just as we hit the first shop to collect some bibs for Peter, we received a phone call on the mobile. It was the dreaded paediatricians again, and it wasn't good news. Two hours later and the blood results were already in. They wanted to admit him that night, to do some light therapy for his jaundice. It broke my heart...

Love you Sweetie!

So my little baby boy, got another feeding tube up his nose, he was cooked under the lights for 12 hours and had to wear a blindfold so it wouldn't burn his eyes. My breastfeeding got put on hold again, but at least I got to spend the night with him in the Pediatric ward. On the whole though, I hated it and I hated the whole industrialised attitude at the hospital.

I don't want to mar Peter's story with grievances about hospitals, but I will say that while I respect the need of trained medical staff to save lives which are in serious jeopardy, I'm not sure why they would want to clog the system up with "just in case" patients. One would think a firm diagnosis would ensure necessary treatment, rather than treating every baby as if they were in serious jeopardy.

I can only say this having birthed two children, ten years apart. The system has changed from a diagnosis based treatment plan, to a mass production line of neonates - all being treated as if they're going to die. My son was denied breast milk during those vital few days following birth, in preference for being dosed up on antibiotics, formula and glucose drips instead.

I cannot say if these added measures saved his life or not, because it wasn't a diagnosis based treatment plan. It was explained to me every time, as a, 'just in case', measure.

 Peter loves cuddles

But that part of our lives is behind us now. Our little Peter is going from strength to strength. Whatever lack of appetite he experienced in the past, has been made up for now! Sadly, we had to give up breast milk, due to Peter's tongue being the wrong shape for good extraction, but it was the second bout of mastitis which really did it for me. I'm glad we stuck with it, for as long as we could though.

And now about Peter's name. We had originally selected another one, and it's one I really loved. It was, "Millan". Feedback from relatives however, wasn't very encouraging. We decided to err on the side of caution and stick with a traditional name instead. "Peter" was in honour of David's departed Father.

So in a nutshell, that is Peter's story, of the first eight days of his life. When I look at his older sister though, I know how quickly time flies by. It's why I cherish every smile I give him now. He will linger with us for as long as possible, but manhood will soon call him one day, and I will have to say goodbye to my little boy, once and for all.

In the meantime its lots of cuddles and kisses!

Peter's Story - day 5

Day five from birth was coming home day! Our little guy had been through so much in the Special Care Nursery. He started with a feeding tube in his nose, which then became a glucose drip in his wee little hand, that lead to a nasty course of antibiotics.

For the record, I believe a lot of this was unnecessary, but that's a subject for another post. Because when it was the day to come home for Peter, nothing could have wiped the smile from my face.

Returned to hospital 24 hours after my discharge

I kept my hospital tag on, until we arrived home together

With the feeding tube removed from his nose, I was able to successfully breastfeed him for the first time before we left the hospital. I couldn't wait to leave the place, but we will miss "Lincoln" who was Peter's little premature room buddy. He was so tiny compared to Peter, yet just as robust!

 You've earned the rest, Peter

My boy looked just like a regular baby now. No more facial bruising, and I even noticed how much blonder he appeared, than his older sister when she first left the hospital. But they both still had Dad's long eyelashes!

Mum's papoose

I almost felt like a prison escapee when I tucked my precious little bundle under my wing and fled the hospital confines. We had our own paparazzi following our every step though, with David clicking madly to capture everything - even when we finally wrangled him into the baby capsule to drive home.

Dad's got you!

But driving home was the best feeling of all, because 24 hours earlier I was arriving home after my discharge without our baby boy. I stayed in the car for at least 10 minutes, afraid to go inside and not find him there. All of those five days had been spent in a matter of confines. I couldn't take him out of the Special Care Nursery, I couldn't feed him, nor could I hold him close - not without some tangle of medical tubing getting in the way.

Yet coming home that day made up for it all. We brought him home and he was where he belonged. We all took our turn holding and adoring him.

Our two treasures

We even got that precious picture of sister and brother, we failed to capture at the hospital. She likes to hold her little brother - in fact, we all do. The novelty hasn't worn off for any of us. Although the occasional sore arm reminds us to swap sides more frequently! I swear we can see him growing every day.

Never too young to start garden appreciation

Of course, what would be coming home without a casual walk through the garden. I couldn't wait to show him everything out there. In a day of patchy weather, we were even fortunate to catch some afternoon rays too.

A fitting end to a tumultuous five days - or - so we thought...

Peter's Story - day 2

Day two of Peter's entry into life, would have been the hardest for me as a mother. I had given birth under traumatic circumstances, and just as my body and mind had a chance to clear from the blur, I'm faced with the reality there are babies crying in the maternity ward all around me, but none of them were mine.

My little boy was in the Special Care Nursery, with a feeding tube in his nose. Others were looking after him, and I had to press a buzzer to be allowed in to see him.  But see him we did.

Proud parents

David was as proud as punch, but I was still a cocktail of conflicting emotions. Here was our baby and I loved him immensely, but he hated the tube up his nose and I couldn't take it away from him.

Sweet siblings

Sarah got to meet her new brother for the first time in the Special Care Nursery, and she even got to hold him. We didn't get a photo because visiting hours were coming to an end.

A loving glance from Nan

There was still enough time for Nan (my mum) to have a cuddle though. If Peter's head looks a little blue, it was from the bruising he received during birth. It took a while for his normal colour to return.

I wasn't sure how much I should share about that day, as it was particularly difficult. Not only because I was mourning something I didn't entirely understand, but I realised the conflicting advice/communication with staff in the Special Care Nursery added to my woes.

Everything hinged on who was on the next shift. If they were all about "procedure", that is what happened to my son, regardless of what I had to say about it. If they were about working with the parents, then they worked your requests into the treatment plan. It was the kind of unnecessary confusion I didn't need.

As much as we could though, we tried to be there for Peter. David spent all day with me at the hospital, and even brought me food from home! He asked for two weeks off work, which was an absolute Godsend. I really appreciated his support. One of his female work colleagues has even offered us the use of her electric breast pump, as she's between children at the moment and wouldn't need it until the next one comes along.

So it's been somewhat of a mixed blessing time for us. Unfortunately, Peter wasn't discharged from hospital until five days later - I was discharged after four. But home he did come eventually, so the next entry for Peter's Story will be day five.

Coming home!

Peter's Story - day 1

It has been over a week since my "planned" induction date, but our son had other ideas of when to make his appearance. I was due to arrive at the hospital at 7.30am for the scheduled induction, but I woke that morning at 2am. There was mild cramping, but nothing which said labour was eminent. By 3.30am however, David was racing me to the hospital and they took me straight into the birthing suite.

37 weeks and 2 days gestation

This was the last photo taken of my baby bump, the night before. I wore this nightie, simply because both my suitable ones were already packed in my hospital bag. There was literally no time to change in the wee hours of the next morning. So imagine how embarrassed I was, when the midwife helped remove my robe at the birthing suite, and said: "now that's a raunchy outfit to wear for birth."

Believe me, I wanted to laugh along with her - she had no idea of the strange turn of events that had befallen me. I won't go into them, but it was like I knew he was coming (even though I was completely clueless) and things just "happened" to get us to hospital on time. Speaking of which, little Peter arrived just 40 short minutes after we got into the birth suite.

Peter William Riley, with Dad

a few minutes old

There was somewhat of a drama to his entry though. They couldn't find his heartbeat at first. I had one of those undignified births, where you're flat on your back and your legs are (well) kept out of the way, for want of a better description. But they had to place a sensor on his head to get a heartbeat. I kind of knew he was still with us, but the collective room breathed a sigh of relief when the machine started registering his pulse. There were quite a few medical people in the room by that stage too.

Meconium was found in the fluid, which was a sign he was in distress. Then when his heartbeat started dropping again, they wanted to get him out quickly. I was told to push, and when his head finally emerged, they pulled the rest of him out rather forcefully. I knew he would be okay (just as I always have - there's more to this story) and I still wonder if the medical intervention would have been necessary, had I arrived earlier and they were able to monitor him sooner. It's about their procedures and being able to document how labour progresses.

There was very little warning with Peter's birth though. Three hours passed between the first mild twinge, until he was born - and 30 minutes was spent driving to hospital, parking and getting to the birth suite!

A few hours old, dressed in my hand knits

He was average size though (nearly 4kgs) or 8 pounds, 6 ounces. I tried to breastfeed him in the birth suite. My poor muscles were shaking though and it was all a bit of a blur. The midwives conducted several heel-prick blood tests, and after 4 hours his blood-glucose level, hadn't managed to go over the 2.6 they like for newborns. So the Paediatric doctor came to our birth suite, and proposed taking him to the Special Care Nursery.

That is another story to tell about Peter's arrival though. He had quite an eventful first week of life...