Home, Sweet Homebirth Story

In a month and a half Small Girl will be one year old. It will be the first anniversary of something amazing, and I got so busy before and after that I never ended up blogging about it. Well, you're here now, so you may as well read about it - glad you clicked the link? This is a dolled up version of a story I posted in a forum last year, soon after the event - it's much more polished now!

Sometime in 2008 I had a moment of clarity, where I realised I could ask my body to let me know when I was ovulating, as I hadn't ovulated since 2005, when Oscar was conceived, I guess. I had been breastfeeding overnight and during the day and also co-sleeping from the day Boy-child was born, and this worked well with my body's rhythm for my fertility cycle. I had spoken with a couple of wise and intuitive friends about this and they concurred that this had been the case for them, with 3 kids each to help make their case.
I decided that my body's plan was in line with my own plan for a 3 plus-year age gap between my kids. Knowing I was to return to study, volunteer firefighting and horse-riding, I also knew that kids too close together would be unfair on everyone involved, as I'm not very zen under stress. I knew that for me it would be ideal to wait until our first had gone through that intense period of rapid development before having another little person whose needs would need close attention from mummy. I wanted to be as present as possible for the second baby and my body came to the party with my conscious mind by being 'infertile' naturally while I enjoyed Boy-child's first years.
In December 2008 I intuited a strong and compelling signal from within that ovulation had occurred, two and a half years since the boy's birth. I had been using a Mooncup, which is a menstrual cup made from silicone that not only saves the environment, but took me to a place of comfort with my own body and rhythm I had never enjoyed before and recommend to all women. Once I knew what had happened I then asked for my body to let me know when implantation had occurred.Tom had been wanting a sibling for the boy for some time...in vain, because my body and lactation were plugging along, of their own accord and duly ignoring his preference. Later, in January of 2009 I had one day where my pelvis just gave out and by the end of the day I couldn't walk without holding onto walls - something that hadn't happened since I was pregnant with Boy when I was dealing with excruciating Symphisis Pubis Dysfunction, or SPD. It was too much of a coincidence and the next day I was scheduled to ride my horse all morning at a riding club rally. I did that and came home and it was as if nothing had gone on the day before. So, I knew. That was my 'sign'.
I told Tom what I knew and he believed me (with not a semblance of 'yeah, yeah, that womany, airy fairiness crap'!), and we kept it to ourselves. For nearly 5 months. It was quite delicious, actually, to just know, the two of us, and not have to talk about it with anyone but our private midwife, and a bit later on, Katerina, who agreed to be part of our birthing team. I didn't really show until closer to 6 months in, so it was easy to pretend I'd been eating a bit healthier since the fires. I had been feeling untethered since the fires and my appetite took a hit - whether it was a combination of the fires or just early months of pregnancy I can't tell you - and my acquired nervous disposition saw me lose some weight during pregnancy, such that I appeared to be quite un-pregnant for some time. It was a great surprise when we announced the pregnancy to close family only, some time near the 18 week mark. If I'd had my way I would have just waited for our close family to notice my belly once it had popped out, but Tom was keen to avoid noses being put out of joint, so I relented and allowed the news to be told! It wasn't so much for secrecy that I wanted to keep it quiet, it was more in keeping with the kind of pregnancy and birth I wanted to have - private, quiet and intimate.
We decided before falling pregnant that the next pregnancy would not be scanned by ultrasound or prenatal testing, as the reading I had done, and meditation combined, were not in favour of 'routine' scans and testing. We would let this one do what it would do and roll with any punches coming our way. No testing for me meant that we couldn't then fall into the medical model of pregnancy and have doctors put the hard word on me based on their training and what they consider routine. So much has changed in birth and not all of it for the better - with so much evidence suggesting that medicalising birth is interfering with normal birth processes. Not for us, this medical intervention caper.
The pregnancy was eventful, and only in terms of what I did during that time - strike team duty during our bushfires in Victoria,
getting through uni semester before taking another intermission, going to three cities I'd never been to within 3 months (Brisbane for a quick escape in mid-June, Newcastle to visit Paul and Dan in early August and Canberra for the Birth Rights rally on September 7th) and starting up my singing gigs with Brett, with gigs in late May, end of June and late September (in our duo, Black Pepper) after a 3 year absence from the acoustic stage.
Anyhoo, I had spent a lot of my pregnancy pretending I wasn't pregnant and then, come mid-September there was nothing planned, nothing in my diary...it was great! I nested in a way I didn't do with Boy-child and just thought about the ambience for the homebirth I was wanting, gathering materials, music and information to make it what I wanted. I made up birthing oils for massage and spray mists and some post-natal concoctions for relaxation and nurturing. Under no illusions that Tom would utilise his massage experience on me, I massaged myself...a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. Oh, and I DID pay for some pregnancy massage from a local practitioner, as well - I'm not silly!
We were working off LMP (Last Menstrual Period) for due date...which came and went with no sign of labour, though in September I had felt myself dilate and also felt Braxton Hicks contractions that I didn't feel with my first pregnancy. I told Tom that if the baby didn't come early, it would be late, and not be born near the LMP due date.
All of the first week in October yielded nothing and Tom was keen not to get up for work each morning, hoping to call in for his 3 weeks leave. The night before the estimated due date we did our second belly cast (the first was a dismal failure) and thought "Right, it can happen now". On the Friday we took a last minute opportunity for a family pregnancy session with an ABA (Australian Breastfeeding Association) photographer, Susan D'Arcy, and thought, "Right, it can happen now".
Here is a sample of the simple and beautiful photos Susan took of us:

On Saturday I completed the first painting I had attempted in about 2 years and thought, "Right, it can happen now". Tom was forlorn to have to front up to work again on Monday, the 12th.
I had an appointment at home with my midwife, Helen Brown of Midwives Naturally, and told her about my intuiting the implantation date, so she did a calculation from that and said my due date would then have been the 11th...so not so 'overdue', after all. I wasn't fretful or anxious...just bored. EVERYTHING was in place; trial run of the birth pool had been done, I had my drinks and supplements all ready to go, music playlist prepared, batteries charged for torches and cameras etc.
Through Tuesday night I had some more Braxton Hicks contractions and when I woke to pee at about 3.50am they were stronger and regular. The remained regular at 6-10 minutes for the next 3 and a half hours. At 3 hours I contacted Helen and Katerina who would be attending to support us as well as Oscar. We all remained hopeful. I lit my candles, put on my mantra music, put the rose water in my fuchsia glass water bottle and rubbed some birthing oil into my body, before wrapping around my body pillow on the couch to wait. Alas, by daybreak the whole thing had backed off, as I extinguished unneeded candles, one by one. I was SO disappointed, because I had been working through my Sleep Breathing and Deep Breathing (HypnoBirthing tools I learned with the first pregnancy) and visualising outcomes. Katerina came round, anyway (lucky she wasn't working that day), after Tom had already called work to start his leave (boy, did I feel bad) and we decided, after mentioning that I had been tossing up what movie to see at the cinema, to watch Mao's Last Dancer in the afternoon (it was Boy-child's creche day and I had been meaning to catch a film for months). I felt flat and rejected by my baby! But I also intuited that my baby wanted to come at night...maybe it was all those Buffy episodes I'd been watching on DVD of a late evening?
Resting after a false start
Thursday morning and Tom asked if anything was happening...well, donchya think I would say something if it were? We decided to bite the bullet and go to Baby Bunting to get this car seat for Boy because he was, by now, unmistakeably too tall for his seat at the time (well, I borrowed my mum's and converted 'his' back to a baby seat) and then to Fountain Gate shopping centre to do shopping for the pantry (woefully empty). It was so hideous - I thought Knox was bad enough (where I stick to the 'new' atriums when I go with Boy, because I'd had to get things in recent times and I had been averaging maybe 3 trips a year prior to that), but Fountain Gate has some truly grotesque acoustics. We all got overloaded and cranky - our humours kept up only by a delicious serve of thickshake and icecream at the food court.
We got our shopping done, headed back to the car and I felt light cramping again. I had a couple of tightenings on the way home, got home, lurked on forums and Facebook for a while and Tom organised dinner (the good egg; he'd been ace taking over from me for about two weeks, since I couldn't stand up to complete a meal despite best intentions, due to the SPD). From 6pm I was timing the tightenings and breathing through them. For about 45 mins they were 10 mins apart and dinner was served. Tom and Boy were due to leave for a swimming lesson about 20 mins drive away from home, in Ringwood and Tom asked if he should go. They'd be back by about 8.45pm and I deemed it 'safe'. Tom called before hopping in the pool and I said they were about 8-10 mins apart. He said he'd get home and tidy up because I said the floor was crunchy again and in a state (not just fussy pregnancy nesting, the floor was awful because my pelvis wouldn't allow me to clean the house properly...next time I'll hire a cleaner). I couldn't wait and started sweeping the house (it wasn't very big, but collected dog hair and dust because we lived on an unmade road) with a vigour, because the broom became my 'dance partner' during tightenings. Finally, clean floor!
This was my 'altar', where my aromatherapy and light therapy was set up, alongside the birthing goddess (who was on loan to me to help guide me through the processes)

I lit candles, dispensed some aromatherapy and lathered in birthing oil again, to my music (and the new music I had been given the day before by my massage therapist) of hypnotic and soothing Mantra by Deva Premal, after fitting the Chinese red paper lantern to the light fitting of the lounge room. By the time the boy-types got home at 8.30 tightenings were 5 mins apart and sharp buggers. I tried to put Boy-child to bed and he was being a bit difficult, whiny and un-sleepy. I read to him and then he asked me to read him My Brother Jimi Jazz, about a homebirthed sibling. Once finished, I turned out the light, he had 'Babu' (his reference for breastfeeding and boobs) and was still fidgeting. I was getting a bit cranky because all I wanted to do was stand and rotate my hips. Half way through a sharp tightening and deep breath I felt a 'pop', and a slight trickle. I leapt out of bed (to the boy's dismay), went to the loo and told Tom. It was more show, the washable pad was wet, but not saturated and I told Boy to hop into our bed if he'd go to sleep. 5 min intervals were increasing to 3-5 mins. I had already called Helen and Katerina to let them know that things had started again, whilst Tom was at the pool. Boy-child would still not settle, which was unusual - he knew something was up because I was being so erratic...and all I wanted to do was go into my 'zone'. I told Tom to just leave him stay up and to call Katerina to come. At this point he also asked if he should call the midwives to come...I couldn't say 'yes' quickly enough, but then saying anything was becoming a secondary priority. I was hanging onto walls and furniture to swing my hips around to get through some thick and fast surges (Hypno speak for 'contractions'). I told Tom he had to get the birth pool going and, before I knew it, it was filling. Just as it was nearly ready, Katerina arrived and took over with teh boy - she was just so the right person to ask to perform this role.
She took him to his room and that's when I needed to get in the water...instant relief, Sweet Mother Of All That Is Good And Right In The World! The water helped deal with the surges incredibly well, because I was losing it (or thought I was) - I was getting teary thinking I had lost all my HypnoBirthing skills in the intervening years and wondering why it seemed more difficult this time (or so I thought, again).
The midwives arrived but I could barely look up to acknowledge them. Boy had hopped into the pool a couple of times before this and when he got too boisterous was plucked out, with much protest - sheesh, that was hard to deal with at the same time. But my committment to have him there remained. At one point I allowed myself some comic relief when he ducked under my arm and attached himself to my breast - scuba Babu! No-one else knew what he was doing until I said "he's attached"...even then I don't think they believed it (though his Daddy did).
Tom stayed kneeling in front of me with his arms around me and head on my shoulder as a counterbalance, every once in a while telling me I was doing well. The midwives said the same and prompted me to keep my bum down in the water. Boy-child was in and out like a freaking yo-yo and it was all I could do not to snap at him. Little blighter was trying to inspect my perineum to see what was happening!

I told everyone that I wanted to bail, and as soon as I said that I realised I may not have that much longer to go. I had no idea what time it was. I then remembered some reading I had done in those last few weeks about a midwife encouraging birthing women to feel inside the vagina for the progress of the baby and that feeling the baby's head had been motivation to press on peacefully and confidently. I felt inside with my middle finger and thought I felt nothing...but then, I felt something! The tip of my finger found a slimy surface that felt round! Two surges later I felt again and reported quietly to Tom that I felt it between my middle knuckle and the base of my finger. The next surge (by this time between 1-2 mins apart) brought it to my middle knuckle. Wanting to wait another couple of surges before checking again I decided against that and checked at the next...Bloody Nora, this baby was at my first knuckle!
From here on in my breathing sounds became moaning sounds (and upon watching teh replay via video Katerina took, most of the noise must have only been happening in my head) and I felt I was losing the plot again - the surges were unrelenting and I could barely keep up with the momentum. I religiously told myself that breathing was the answer, just keep breathing and I'd get through it, that it couldn't be much longer. Boy-child thought it would help to periodically force feed me nuts and dried fruit, so I obligingly opened my mouth, then gave the contents to Tom when Boy turned away (just wasn't in the mood, but couldn't reject his gestures!). He also tipped water down my throat and both my hands were holding me up, so stopping him was a problem - until Tom gently sorted him out.
There was a head at the opening of my vagina (or birth canal, depending on how delicate you are about these things) and it stayed there...I wanted to bear down and breathe it out like I had with Boy...but the bugger wasn't moving at the rate I preferred - it just hung around at the opening, surge after surge. It must have been about 4 or 5 surges (though Tom reckons it was less) and the midwives guided me to hold the head and go slow - the right words at just the right time; I got straight back into my Birth Breathing, creating a 'J' shape with my spine to my tailbone, and a midwife pushing my bum back into the water to help me. There were photos being taken, mirrors and torches being held and things explained to Boy-child. I was back in my zone and determined to just breathe the kid out. At one point I heard Tom tell me "it's a girl" and wondered how on earth he could know that from the face being out (turns out he said "that's the girl" to encourage me, I realised later). So, in my head, 'it' had become 'she'.
Once the head was out I felt better, but still dealing with fast and furious surges. Eventually I said I just wanted her out and the midwives got me to turn around, facing up, and guided her out - she was kicking like a dolphin and I was just 'over' the whole sensation.
Then, there she was, on my chest - my living, breathing new baby, not making much noise and me breathing on her face, under instructions. We all sighed at the sight of her as we gathered around to see what I had made.
Boy was mesmerised and we were all relieved. The midwives informed me that it had taken 2 hours and 15 mins from established labour to birth...huh? No wonder it was ouchy! It was 11.20pm and it was still the day after the 'false alarm'.
More surges came for the placenta - I was not overly joyed about this and complained that I hadn't had to go through that last time (postpartum hemorrhage meant I'd had a managed third stage that was a bit of a blur). Again, I was guided in how to bring the placenta out. Again, sweet relief!
Boy hopped into the water and was swimming around in it again, meeting his little sister and showing off his fishness. Yes, he was swimming with vernix, but he didn't care. Our little white dog, Coco, had been sitting faithfully by the birth pool for much of the labouring time, and I appreciated her mammalian presence.
We were helped from the pool to my couch, where we just took each other in for ages. By the time I was helped to bed it was 1am and I was doped up on some pain killers for the after-pains.
It was me, my new baby girl with no confirmed name, and my fella, with Boy asleep in the next room crashed out from the experience. The midwives said everything I did had been ideal. I was centred, and serene and keeping noise low and constructive; every once in a while humming to the mantra melody, as I had been listening to mantra for months. There was no tearing, not even grazing this time - just some bruising, which healed within days from using a herbal recipe I dipped overnight pads into and froze (much nicer than frozen water in condoms!).
Well, the story wasn't supposed to be very long because the labour wasn't very long...but the birth was part of a journey that needed telling, too. We chose the right people to be with us and we had learned so much about birth during the first pregnancy and resolved so much by the second that we were prepared for what homebirthing would do for our lives. I knew it was my destiny, as I would muse about my grandmother birthing all nine of her children in a tiny house in a small Honduran village, aided by local and experienced birth attendants. All live births, and only one of her children passed away (in 1992) before she did in 2003, but that's another story. I only knew my grandmother for 6 weeks in 2002/2003, and she would never know, by the time she passed, in our winter of 2003, that she inspired me to birth in an uninterrupted way, with faith in my body and my baby's intelligence to birth herself.
I achieved my goal - to birth at home, in water, avoiding the need to get into a car during established labour, with my vivacious son witnessing the entrance of his much-wanted sibling and his daddy, who wanted the sibling more than any of us! I felt pretty peachy and 'zen' about it in the following weeks and months...hell, I still do. And 'zen' was the ultimate aim - even though it was fast and hard, I remained true to my aims and a peaceful beginning was experienced by Girl Face; my second water baby and first homebirth.

Recapping - from there till now...

It's been a long time between posts. Life happens!
I will add photos very shortly, I just need to do it from a different computer.
Paul and Danleft the Dandenongs for the milder climes of Newcastle...sad, but such hope embedded in that move and scope for great success and personal happiness for some of our favourite people! Dan didn't just leave Victoria, she left the parental hold of Monash University...something I haven't been able to do yet. Hmmm, there's a theme I could explore. But won't.
Let's see, Black Saturday happened. I won't blog about that, for various reasons.
My first trip to Brisbane happened. I ditched the boys and went to visit my 'sister', Monica and her boyfriend, the fabulous Prazole, who is truly a kindred spirit :) I had a wonderful time sharing vegetarian, organic food made with love and inspiration, and also being introduced to the human tones of mantra music. I experienced the Eumundi Markets, dropped in on Byron Bay and also on Noosa (and took a dip in the sea even though it wasn't hot...but I was there...). I came back armed with a gomasio recipe and a desire to include miso in lots of my cooking. And an ambition to consume more chai - real chai. I decided Brisbane is my kind of place and if I ever have to take flight from Victoria, southern Queensland could well be the place for me. Not that I intend leaving my Victoria. More on that later.
Our first trip to Newcastle to visit said beloved people, Paul and Dan, was just so nice. We took a drive to the Hunter and shared wine and cheese. Except the really stinky cheese from the Smelly Cheese Shop. Nup, this one was completely inedible. It was nostril destroying. If you don't believe me, if you insist on defying me, get some Esrom into ya and tell me, so that I can laugh heartily at your misadventure. We didn't eat it. Wiki it. Newcastle University is a very different uni experience. It has a lovely outdoor pool and a student bar that overlooks a large, grassy area with loads of trees and general lushness. Most unlike Melbourne Uni's staid surrounds and sombre architecture, and Monash Uni's (albeit changing) mission brown, concrete slab wind tunnel (I love my academic home, don't get me wrong!). So, Monash's loss is Newcastle's gain in it's promising new lecturer, our Dan.
Ok, the next trip I made was in September to Canberra. Another first. Made with the lovely Narelle and her babe, Esme, who was just on one year old. It was for the Birth Rights Rally organised to protest against the much-lauded Midwifery Bills, which, unfortunately, took an unnecessary and spiteful swipe at homebirthing in order to pass in Parliament. Appeasing the 'gods' (read: the Australian Medical Association and RANZCOG) meant that homebirth was to be driven underground by forbidding private midwives from attending homebirths. The reason? The real reason was that the legislation said they could do homebirths if they could get liability insurance. Hmmm, cynical. No insurer had provided this kind of insurance since about 2001. Not for safety reasons IN THE LEAST. It was the economic reasoning of too small a pool of insurees (is that a real term? Is now) to make it a viable product to offer, after an obstetrician was sued for about $6 million by a couple birthing in a hospital. Yup, makes perfect sense. The AMA and government spin on it was that homebirth must be unsafe and that's what the rally was for - a protest about the premise of the legislation and the dumb rhetoric coming from parties with vested interest in keeping homebirthers in the minority. It was a great rally, where we joined our friend, Mel and her daughter, Bec, and shared a hotel room at Rydges and took in the refreshing Canberra environs. It's a much nicer place than Google Earth will have you believe.
Within this time of travelling inter-city I had also done some gigs with Brett in our guise as Black Pepper, both at the Bodhi Tree in Healesville and also for World Harmonies, in Eltham, where we'd played about 4 years before. Before Boy was born, anyway! Playing again injected me with a new enthusiasm for performance and discovering what ELSE my voice can do. The last time we gigged I had fallen into a pattern of singing in a way that was just sufficient to get to the end of the gig, hitting notes and sounding good. It had felt obligatory. The 3.5 year break had done me good, even though I had only meant it to last one year.
After September I stopped making appointments in my diary, because I didn't know where the next adventure would take us. Since January 19 of 2009 I had been pregnant. I knew a little person had implanted into my hesitant host-body when, on the day we spread Poppa's ashes at the Cranbourne Botanic Gardens, my pelvis gave out completely and I found myself unable to walk without holding onto Tom or a wall. Given that the very next day I rode my horse into the afternoon for a Lysterfield Adult Riding Club Sunday rally, I knew it was more than just an odd one-off occurrence. So, I just ticked along, knowing I was up the duff, went out and did a Strike Team day at Healesville the week after Black Saturday (Valentine's Day, actually) and didn't think much about it. I didn't talk about it. For various reasons I just decided that I was going to honour my belly by letting it grow without attention, discussion, speculation or scrutiny. It was easy to do, as I only started to 'show' in late May. Early June saw my last horse ride, where I did some galloping up hills, popping Dante over some cross country jumps and trot work. My pelvis wouldn't allow it anymore, and I was really rather forlorn about this. I was about 22 weeks pregnant, where with Oscar I lasted till 27 weeks before giving up the bridle. Life happens.
Boy was warming wonderfully to the idea of this baby. After all, he had ordered it back in January. He loved to meet the midwives when they came to our house, as Helen and Nicola from Midwives Naturally alternately paid their visits to our home. I also tested the friendship between the constantly serene Katerina and us by asking her to be part of our homebirth, mainly to help with Boy, but to be around if Tom had to deal with him or some other matter. Three wise and strong women boarded our adventure train and everyone trusted me with the job at hand. No choice, really!
Meanwhile, Tom was getting more and more frustrated with the place I'd called home for 6 years and he'd owned for about 10. I nested ferociously and made the place very birth-worthy and it all unfolded on the night of October 15. Within 3 hours our new babe was here and had enjoyed a peaceful waterbirth. Boy witnessed birth at its best, I reckon. Even Coco stuck close to the action and we have footage of her hanging around, concerned to see the outcome of all my measured breathing efforts, accompanied by the soothing metre of Deva Premal's mantra music and some other meditative pieces supplied by my massage therapist. Boy-child will be a wonderful birth support when his time comes, as he now thinks everyone is "cooked in a belly and made in the birth pool". He had no cause for alarm as he watched me do my work, and offered me nuts and water...not always when they were required, and not always in measured doses, but his gestures were well appreciated, all the same, and he was rewarded with watching his sister emerge into the birth pool and give her first meow - "She needs your Babu", he informed me. Yep, she did, and so she went on to have her first breastfeed. All in the dusky light of my Chinese red paper lantern in the loungeroom - red is for fortune, yes? Intense, quick, peaceful, loving, warm, trusting, instinctual, primal and ethereal all at once. Girl Face was born on a rainy night, in Upwey.
I had been pretty chuffed with how I'd raised Boy thus far and decided the things I'd change would be minimal. In fact, I only added to my repertoire by including Elimination Communication in my parenting schema. I had bought a vintage enamel chamber pot and had read the little available on Natural Infant Hygiene (the other terms you may find for it) well in advance. All that was left was to...start.
I bit the bullet and started putting Girl on the chamber pot when she was about 2 weeks old. At about the same time as we finally decided to do something about notions we had of selling the house. I remember the real estate agent coming in and seeing me on the recliner with a newborn...on a chamber pot! She was very unperturbed with the scene and revealed she had been a midwife in her previous professional life. Not that EC would have been something she'd see very often...if at all. Anyhow, when she was two weeks old we did two major things - started EC and put the house on the market. We also had Susan D'Arcy come and take photos of our expanded family, after she'd taken great pregnancy photos of us.
It wasn't as simple as that, actually. We gave ourselves a lead time of 4 weeks to get the house in order to our first Open For Inspection. It was true madness. Superfluous furniture was stashed into the shed. Knick knacks we didn't want on display anymore were thrown into boxes and into ye olde shed. The bathroom was painted, skirting boards were fixed, things were done that took no time to do...yet I had been wanting them done for, oh, 6 years!
The EC'ing is marvellous - far less nappies and in February I was brave and ditched nappies overnight. Since then we can go days without a wet nappy for having 'caught' her eliminations. It feels so much more dignified and respectful this way, having done nappying with Boy to be able to compare. The hardest part was starting. And Tammy from my local boutique, Voski Von Mueller, is gobsmacked and impressed with her favourite girl for being so clean! It's so laughably easy that I'm convinced nappying is another form of slavery - I'm no longer a slave to the nappy bucket...woo hoo!
We spent a truly special and completely spontaneous New Years with Paul and Dan and Liz at the flower farm in Gembrook - free natural light show and some dam swimming got done, before P&D had to leave for their northern home, once again. I can't wait to meet their little one when Dan gives birth some time in September.
Another Daniela will greet a baby of her own in July, as we were told in January when I finally met her husband, Jason. Dan and I went to school and uni together and had a ten year separation before I began and completed my quest to find her in 2008. Some good things I just can't let go of!
After a couple of false starts, we 'sold' the house to a guy who loved the feel of the place and wanted a project to work on between work trips to Japan. We had a long settlement into April, but it ended up being May, after a freak hail storm in early March, while we were in Mildura for the VFBV Urban Firefighters State Championships, derailed settlement on both the Upwey house and the property we were buying. We didn't have confirmation of his finance until the Australia Day weekend in January, so we were actually living in a lot of limbo for many months and it was most unpleasant. We had been away for the Fire Brigades Eastern Championships held in Traralgon at that time and I was given permission to make calls about farms I had been looking at on the internet once we got home. But first, we were heading back to Bairnsdale.
In December my parents purchased a lovely 6 acres of land and house in Nicholson. We were there just after Christmas and then later in January when my sister and her family came over from NZ for a visit. It had been about 6 months since we'd seen them and my gorgeous niece and nephew had gotten so big! So, we parted ways knowing that when we saw each other again we would most likely have our much-wanted farm.
Tom and I went to see one place in Strzelecki and thought we could make something of it. We weren't in love with it, but it was something we could work on and make our own. The following week I organised to see another block without Tom, that was closer to Warragul (by, oh, about 5 mins...not heaps!). I decided to drop in on some dear old family friends that I hadn't seen in years. Not since my sister, Teresa, and Dave got married in 2004. I had known them since I was born and it had been the longest stretch between seeing them ever. I had missed them so much, too, as they are very loving, unconditionally accepting, intelligent and compassionate people.
Reynaldo and Cristina lived on the outskirts of Warragul, and on my way home, so that's where I headed, with the two kids they had never met (and had only heard of the eldest of them). I walked in and instantly recognised Cristina, who hasn't changed one bit. I couldn't see Rey, but recognised another family friend from even longer back, who had moved to QLD years before. It was a most salubrious reunion. There is no reunion quite as soul-drenching as a Cuban one! I am so, so lucky to have these people in my life. Cubans are quite a cut above! Finally, Rey made himself known to me. You could have knocked me over with a feather. He was chubby and bald. Not at all like the skinny, dark-haired cheeky man I had last seen. He had cancer. In fact, he was suffering a lot from advanced lung cancer and was due for some spinal surgery the very next Monday, and had been on some serious cortisone treatments, putting the weight on him. Talk about a fateful decision to go see them. I was devastated. I still am. I called my parents and told them to call and drop in because I had a feeling it was extremely important to drop everything and reconnect. Meanwhile, Boy had a ball playing with Rey's great-granddaughter and another grandson. The following week my mum took Boy by train into Carlton to see Rey after his surgery. Boy was quite affected by this. I hope he never smokes a day in his life.
In mid Feb I went to see him in hospital when I was told he hadn't been eating and the surgery wasn't as successful as hoped. I went in with Girl Face and he was in great spirits when he woke to find me waiting for him. I told him about our farm search and one place we'd found in South Gippsland. I knew he'd love that we'd chosen their part of the world. The following Monday was my birthday and I made another trip to town to see him. He sat in a chair, with some help, and we talked land and farms again. I never was to see him again. He passed away at the Warragul Rehab place and had been despondent about not being able to walk. Rey, who had been around for some very significant events in my life - my birth, my 16th birthday, my 18th birthday, my 21st birthday, our momentous move from North Dandenong to Upwey, my sister's wedding, my first horse - was gone from this life. But only in flesh. When I think of beautiful people who make a difference and who define great humanity, I always count Rey in that number. He had many personal 'fans', telling similar tales at his standing-room only funeral. That was just him. Humble, switched-on and wonderful. He just didn't want to remain alive if he couldn't walk around his 'finca', plant and reap corn, dry garlic, raise calves and play with his great grandkids. He was so many things to so many people and life proceeds, reluctantly, I might add, without him. I'm so grateful that he met my kids, in the end, and learned on my dream to have some rural land, just like his dream.
Our dream was materialising in the form of said property in South Gippsland we had seen and offered to buy. It had just come on the market when I called about it to organise a tour and we put in the offer before two other interested parties ever got a chance to see it in real life. It had "mine" stamped all over it and I got a bit territorial about anyone else coming to have a look at what was clearly OUR place, and most definitely unable to be purchased by anyone else. Humph! It all came together and all we had to do was wait until settlement. Having settlement delayed was torturous. Settlement day was glorious. I have taken so many photos of this place and I never tire of looking over the photo thumbnails.
We're in the process of purchasing stock and I'm looking into alpacas and some horses I want to have on the farm. We need a proper trading name. We need a place to live in. We need a quad bike (see photos of topography)! We're in lush hills right alongside the tourist railway, and less than half an hour from the seaside town of Inverloch. We have views to The Prom and the sea as our horizon on clearer days. We have far too many wombats. We have a vibrant creek and we have bucket loads of hope and gumption! On 150-odd acres, partially Crown lease, mostly hilly freehold in the wettest region of Victoria. Bliss.
Boy will be 4 soon, and is just as much a pocket-dynamo as ever. It gets him into strife quite a bit, and I love having modelled consideration of others' feelings, evidenced when he sidles up to me, hugs my leg and apologises, quite unbidden, for the specific thing he's done that contravenes natural understanding of physical or personal safety, or breaches of consideration for others' comfort. He 'gets' it, even though his 4yo brain often overrides every other consideration. He's physically and mentally agile, with an unusually clear diction - he may be talking in 4yo stream of consciousness, but, dammit, every word is comprehensible, even if, when put together, the sentiment is less so! Ach, go on, let me have my brag!
Soon I will be back at uni for the second last unit of my course and I have no idea how I'll go doing that with Tallarah, as she's already at the cruising stage and not one to take a back seat. She's already taken to food like the demon Boy never was, food-wise. She's progressing in swimming at the same rate (comforting, as we now have 5 dams, a creek and a pond to consider), and began moving at about 4 months. I was used to that from Boy, but could have done with a reprieve this time. She's also a great fan of her breastfeeding and loves to be carted around in a sling. Oh, and she's an absolute doll face. Just my own opinion ;)
I have precised our life since September 2008 and hope to blog about our farm-change regularly. I always thought of the hills of the Dandenongs as my refuge, and it turns out our new life will play out in different hills that we'll call home. So, the title of this blog remains unchanged.