At 4:31pm on Thursday 22nd January 2015, Ivy Olivia Hughes entered the world. Here is the story of her birth. 

On Wednesday morning I had an appointment with my obstetrician who booked me in for an induction for the following Thursday. I was immediately relieved and allowed myself to hope a little that this time would be different than the previous experience. Throughout the day I felt as if I had more energy than normal, even getting a chance to do the ironing I had put off for the past fortnight. Then, during dinner, I had my first contraction. I continued on as normal, trying to clean up after dinner and make sure everything was in its place. 

Just before bedtime, Dave and the boys were wrestling on the 'wrestle mat' (previously known as 'the beautiful rug I got for my birthday'). Hudson and Eli were a little hyped, and they both ran to dive on Dave. Eli made it to the cushions, but Hudson was not so lucky- landing head first into the hard arm of the couch. Immediately, a large bump appeared just above his eye socket and turned purple. I did not handle it well. All I could picture was having to attend the Emergency Department with one child, while needing to be upstairs in Ward G in labour. Hudson calmed down remarkably quickly and Dave reassured his slightly crazed wife that everything would be OK. We got the kids into bed and I told Dave that I had been having a few contractions. We were both a bit reluctant to call the hospital, given our last experience of being sent home so many times, so I decided to have a bath first and then call.

Around 8pm we called the hospital and told us to come in so they could monitor the baby and see if I was actually progressing in any way. We half-heartedly packed the car and waited for Pat to arrive, mostly convinced this would be a false alarm. When we arrived at the hospital, I was hooked up to the machine and stayed there for the next two hours while Ivy performed a circus routine in my uterus, then fell asleep, meaning they could not get a calm base line reading to analyse. For the first half hour I had zero contractions, but then they started coming back... slowly at first, then more regularly until they were about five minutes apart. The midwife did an internal examination and informed us that I was about 1-2 centimeters dilated and gave us the option of heading home or staying for monitoring overnight. We chose the latter. 

We were directed to a room and tried to get some sleep. Unfortunately (or fortunately from a rest point of view), my contractions all but ceased overnight. I was convinced we would be heading home exhausted and demoralised in the morning. Around 2am, the nurse returned and said that the Doctor had decided that they would commence me on IV antibiotics and induce me in the morning. A cannula was placed in my arm and I tried to rest as much as I could. 

At 8am, the midwives came in to check my progress and attempt to break my waters. The first attempt failed and Laura, the midwife, informed me that she would have to get a doctor to try. As the Nurse in Charge had a go, I was pleading with God over and over that it would work so that we could get the process underway. It was also very uncomfortable but on the second try, there was success. The hormone drip commenced and I spent most of the morning with low level contractions, still quite irregular. We downloaded The Blindside using our mobile phone data, now holding the record of the most expensive movie ever, as we went massively over and now have to pay $100.00 for the excess data charges!

At 12:30pm they did another internal examination and I was only 2cm still. I was a bit demoralised and headed to the bed to rest a bit, thinking it might be a long night. I was able to eat some lunch between contractions which helped my energy levels a bit. At around 2pm, the contractions started to become more intense and difficult to breathe through. I asked for the gas. From this point on, everything became a bit of a blur as I went into the 'zone' of labour, being moved into different positions, each time making sure I had a good handle on the gas so I didn't have to experience a contraction without the masking of the pain relief. 

By 4pm, the contractions were almost unbearable and I was exhausted. They did another check and I was only 5cm. I pretty much gave up at that point and was convinced I wouldn't make it. I asked for an epidural but was reassured that I would be able to make it. When the midwife had left the room, Dave whispered that I was doing so great, and that my gas wasn't even turned up all the way! I was furious and demanded that he turn the bloody gas up to full. He didn't listen to me, seeing as I had recently thrown up and gotten very spacy after ODing on the gas, hence the midwife turning it down. The next half an hour was the most intense thing I have ever experienced. It really felt like I was going to die, as my cervix completely opened up and I screamed as the urge to push came on so quickly. With one massive push, she made it into the air and I was told to hold off while they made sure she was OK. I barely made it to the next contraction and then she was out, onto my chest and it was over. 

I was in shock for a good hour after that. My face was arranged in a permanent scowl as my body fully comprended the pain I had just experienced. The placenta coming out really hurt and I felt as if my body would never be the same again. Usually after labour I get to use the gas as I'm stitched up, which has helped me zone out a bit as I come down from the epic experience. This time, I felt it all because there was no tearing and therefore no need to use the gas. My body was shaking uncontrollably and I threw up twice afterwards. 

When I had finally calmed down a bit, it was time for the first feed. Ivy was amazing and knew exactly what to do, feeding for a solid hour before being weighed and checked over. Dave had arranged for the boys, Mum and Dad and Pat and John  and Loren to visit in the birthing suite. I barely made it to the shower to clean up and there was blood all over the bathroom floor and bedsheets literally five minutes before they showed up. I was just able to stand and greet the boys, and Eli's grave face when he walked in was eye-opening as I realised what a big thing this must have been for him. Eli was very interested in Ivy but Hudson walked straight to the heart monitor machine and began pressing buttons! He then turned his attentions to the two big red fit balls that were resting in the corner. After a few minutes of introducing Ivy to everyone, I collapsed into the bed and Eli came and snuggled with me.

After they left, we headed downstairs to our room on the ward and I lucked out massively to get an empty three bed ward all to myself, complete with a comfortable feeding chair and my own bathroom. I kept expecting a horde of women to descend, but it remained that way for my entire two night stay- making it perfect for having visitors and family attend (and for sleeping at nights as well!)

The first night was interesting. At first I was way too wired to sleep, though I tried very hard to rest. I kept leaning over to check if Ivy was still breathing. She slept for 6 1/2 hours after her first feed. After feeding her at 11:30pm, I tried to put her back to sleep but she was pretty unsettled throughout the night and feeding regularly for comfort. The nurses came to my rescue a number of times and took her out to hold her so I could get some rest. Finally around 5:30am she fell into a contented sleep. I sent an SOS message to Dave to bring a dummy for the next night!

Dave and the boys visited with my mum and it was so cute watching the boys interact with Ivy. They were very keen to hold her and have their turn to stroke her face, nestle their cheeks next to hers and smile eagerly into her contented face. Dave's side of the family came to visit in the afternoon, as well as Allie, Holly and Nick & Laura after that. The nurses largely left me to do my own thing during the days, so I got heaps of rest and lapped up the three meals a day delivery service while I could! I really love hospital food and was not disappointed with the meals, having steak & chips, grilled fish, pork curry, beef casserole and pea & ham soup as the mains, with chocolate mousse, passionfruit flummery and bread and butter pudding for desserts.

The next day my sister, Hali and her new boyfriend visited us, and it was great to meet him for the first time. Dave came back to spend the afternoon with us while we waited for discharge, though it took a little longer than we expected. Ivy was treated as a potential GBS patient due to the boys' experience of neonatal sepsis, so she had to have multiple blood tests and be monitored for any signs of infection. Thankfully, the last blood test result came through around 6:00pm and we were cleared to go home!

The first few days at home with Ivy have been pretty amazing. She is calm, patient, picks up patterns quickly, puts up with over-eager cuddles from her two brothers, has the funniest facial expressions after a feed and settles really easily. I know it is early days, but the feeding is already a million times easier than previous experiences. Compared to last time, where I either had to wake up Hudson for every suck or calm him down from massive gut pain, then feed him the expressed milk from one bottle, formula from another, then spend another 20 minutes expressing for the next feed; this time I just put Ivy on one side, watch a show, change her to the other side and put her back to bed! Unbelievably easy!

Today was our first day without Dave, though Mum came to help out for most of the day and I very much appreciated the extra pair of hands. We managed to get through the day fairly easily despite a few emotional breakdowns from Eli. Three is definitely way more tiring and necessitates considerable strategic management, but I can foresee being able to manage alone eventually!

We are just so grateful and thankful that this experience of birth has been positive and the difficulties of last time have been avoided. The awful first stage of labour was managed to perfection, with constant monitoring of the baby, myself and the prevention of both of us becoming exhausted or infected. The physical toll of labour was also so much less, allowing me to heal and 'bounce' back so much faster.

Welcome to the world, Ivy! We can't wait to get to know you better each day!

When I was around 20 weeks pregnant with Eli I foolishly declared to anyone who would listen that when I was due to have the baby I would be perfectly calm and cherish the moments I had when I could carry the baby without needing to use my arms and feed it without having to keep to a schedule. Man, was I deluded.

I'm on pregnancy number 3 now and, if anything, my ability to cope with this final stage has declined rather than improved!

For Eli's labour, I lasted reasonably well until the due date, though I do remember having an irrational fear of going on drives that lasted longer than 10 minutes, just in case I was to suddenly give birth on the road! At 1am on the due date (a Monday), my contractions started, though I wish I could say 'like clockwork'. They were fierce and regular during the night hours, and weak and random during the days. I felt constantly like vomiting and the initial anticipation and excitement I had experienced at the commencement of the process sharply faded away. I suspected a fluid leak later that evening and we fronted up to the hospital where my waters gushed over the bed as I was being examined. I was excited again, thinking we were finally getting somewhere, but I was wrong. Apparently unless my contractions suddenly started getting serious I could continue in this state until Friday. I was not impressed. We had to return to the hospital the next day for fetal monitoring but despite another night of little sleep and regular contractions, I was no closer to the goal. By Tuesday night I was completely over it and we begged the hospital to induce me. We eventually succeeded in our persuasion and were booked in for the morning, a mere 12 hours of pain and sleeplessness away. Having a definite end to the uncertainty helped, though, and we made it somehow through the night. After being hooked up to the drip, things gradually progressed and, despite a number of hours of excruciating pushing, Eli Thomas Hughes entered the world at around 4pm that afternoon.

In the past on this blog, I've covered the horrific sequel that was Hudson's (very overdue) birth and it has been a lot on my mind again. The hope that I would have successively smoother and more straightforward labours has been completely shattered and I'm honestly not sure what frame of mind to be in for this impending one. At least for this birth I have an obstetrician who has indicated that the previous experiences were not at all ideal and a similar outcome should be avoided. Particularly in light of the fact that both the boys became infected and required extended hospital treatment. The plan this time is that I will have a semi-elective induction close to the due date with four hours of IV antibiotics. Despite the increased certainty and the semblance of a plan, I still feel as if I'm doomed to repeat the past. My tendency to immediately back off if I even suspect that I could be imposing myself on somebody is not a great quality to have at this stage of the process. That, coupled with my love of control and my fear that I'll get this far through pregnancy only to lose the baby becomes a dangerous cocktail that has continually plagued my mind in these last few weeks.

The obstetrician examined me today and warned me that it would be highly unlikely that I would go before term. That means I probably have at least two weeks of this mind state to go. It doesn't help that at the best of times I am massively anal in needing the house to be clean. At this stage of the pregnancy, despite having little energy to do normal things, I suddenly feel like the world will implode if I don't clean the fridge door, scrub the grout along the bath, prune the unruly bushes in the front garden and bucket out the pool in the garage so we can park our car in there again (just a few of the crazy things I actually did today). Logically, I know that dirty fingers will start smudging the door again tomorrow, and that by the time I'm back from the hospital, the bath will need to be redone, but trying to convince myself of these truths is futile.

It goes without saying that I really want to meet our daughter too! I'm feeling optimistic about breastfeeding this time, assuming I don't have to go through the extended pre-labour period which has made feeding so difficult in the past. I am looking forward to being able to bend over without swearing, cuddle the boys on my lap and sleep on my stomach again. I bought some Double Brie cheese today and have already earmarked a bottle of wine that will be the first we open to celebrate! There is lots of anticipation amongst the inner turmoil...

I'm really trying to focus on the fact that anticipation can often be better than reality and that this is a special time to be in right now. I only have a couple of weeks to go with just the boys and for the past few mornings we have had a special time in the playroom together as I've been able to just watch them play while I am reclined on the armchair focusing on getting my second wind.

In just a brief window of time I know I'll shake my head at this version of myself and wonder how I could be so tunnel-visioned, but right now, in the vortex, it feels very real. It does give me hope that the next post will probably be the birth announcement and the labour story!

Please God, give me the perspective and patience I need to cherish this weird and wonderful stage and not drive my family (particularly Dave) crazy in the process.. and please, please keep the baby safe as we go into the unknowns and uncertainties of labour. Amen.

On Friday I think I pretty much hit one of my lowest points of motherhood/life. Looking back, I can't even say that the kids were doing anything that crazy or out of the ordinary.... but something in me just snapped and it was like that moment where you go out onto the top of a mountain somewhere and scream like no one can hear you... except my audience was two sets of shocked little ears and probably the entire neighbourhood.

I guess you could say my emotional and physical energy was low, and that we had just experienced a long two week stint without any real family together time, and were just about to head into another weekend that promised to be massive - with big events hosted by our family on both Saturday and Sunday. Not to mention the fact that I had been having some tiring and daily battles with Eli as he either lost it over (what I saw as) a trivial issue or consistently ignored my attempts to communicate with him.

The constant realisations about my fallibility haven't exactly made it easy either. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't have it any other way, but discovering unpleasant facts about the way you process things and your shadow self is actually pretty exhausting. In some ways its like having everything bull dozed to make way for a new 'building', but in the phase before the new slab gets laid, it just looks like a heap of rubble.

After my screaming episode, it just seemed to unleash a torrent of uncontrollable tears. Eli sat on the bed beside me, stroking my hair and whispering reassuring things into my ear. It was very sweet. Hudson just sat on the floor of the bedroom wailing along with me. After a text to Dave that I was 'one step away from the psych ward', he responded by saying he had arranged for his mum to come over and pick up the pieces. Despite feeling very comfortable with my amazing mother-in-law, it took all my efforts not to immediately go and clean the bombshell that was my house, and dash to the bathroom to put on some concealer. While I resisted the efforts of concealment, it was revealing to realise how much I cared about how I was seen in the eyes of others. Even when having my biggest meltdown, I wanted to come across as normal, put together and not the half crazed lunatic that I felt like.

Pat was amazing. She took one look at me, ordered me into the shower and corralled the kids into the living room to watch Playschool. After the hot burst of water and getting out of my pajamas, I did feel as if I was more able to face the day. She drove us all back to her house and made us snacks and cups of tea, and then took Eli on an excursion to watch one of his cousins in a school race so that I could have a nap while Hudson was down.

I really hate 'not coping' but more than that, I probably hate being seen as someone who is 'not coping'. Even after a relaxing weekend (following the cancelling of the Tribe Thanksgiving Feast) and start to the week (thanks to support and company from Mum and Pat), I still found myself struggling today. When other people aren't around, I start to survey the 'rubble' of my life and it is pretty depressing. I have nothing anymore from which to draw artificial worth and it is bloody hard. I ended up waving the white flag of surrender/red flag of frustration and Dave decided to take the day off work to pick up the pieces. I hate being rescued, but it was comforting all the same. Pat met us at the library and took us to morning tea afterwards, and it was very reassuring having her to bounce things off with the way I'm feeling at the moment. Though it is a bit hard to stop the tears whenever I try and talk about anything remotely meaningful.

I do try to see the silver lining in whatever struggle I'm going through, but I'm finding this one a bit hard. It is hard for me at the best of times to look beyond the moment to the future, unless I'm catastrophising, and this is not exactly the best of times. What I do know to be true is this: I have an amazing husband, two spirited and incredible boys (and a girl less than two months away), a rich support structure of family and friends. I do need rescuing sometimes, and that is OK. I am not going to be able to be 'the coper' all the time, and that is also OK. My house is going to always have something else that needs to be done, and that is normal. My kids are going to fight and crack it over silly things and that is unavoidable. My energy (particularly at the moment) is limited and I need to spend it on things that matter- not picking up random things from the ground all the time and making sure all the toys are in their right box throughout the day. I'm a screwed up, irrational, emotional, tunnel-visioned and selfish human being... in desperate need of redemption and hope. Please help me? Amen.

Lately it feels like the life lessons are coming thick and fast. Like someone is perpetually holding up a life size mirror exposing all the uncomfortable truths I've tried to hide from without even realising it. 

A number of things have been converging to result in this situation. Firstly, the Inside Out series we have been going through at Tribe with its focus on neuroplasticity and rewiring our brains; then there's the Richard Rohr book "Falling Upward" that is blowing my mind with its insights and the timeliness of its advice every time I pick it up. More generally in life there have been situations that have provoked a strong emotional response and I've had to analyse why I have reacted so vehemently .... I guess it isn't surprising that all this has produced a heady cocktail of self-analysis!

Rohr has introduced the concept to me of a 'persona' and 'shadow self' which has revolutionised my thinking. He says that the 'persona' is the stage mask you diligently construct in the first half of your life and try desperately to live up to. The 'shadow (real) self' then is 'what you refuse to see about yourself, and what you do not want others to see'. In order to transition to the 'second stage' of life you have to let go of your persona and live more and more out of your shadow self. If you choose to hold onto the persona ('what most people want from you and reward you for, and what you choose to identify with') you will end up becoming 'imprisoned within yourself'. Ultimately, we can try then to see beyond even our own shadow then to our "True Self' which is 'who you are "hidden [with Christ] in God"'.

This may all just sound like a bunch of weird concepts, but I have found it amazing in articulating exactly what I'm working through right now- trying to let go of caring so much about what others think about me, letting myself be seen to be struggling (rather than running away or retreating to keep my 'in control'/'perfect mother' persona intact), not punishing myself for 'failing' with the kids, and taking responsibility for my own faith journey and not just being a parasite on Dave's!

Earlier in the week we had a really hard day, and I think the reason was that the realisations I had last week regarding pouring myself into tangible goals so I could still feel as if I was succeeding as a mother, meant that I couldn't even fall back on my usual 'crutches' in making myself feel validated again. From my usual framework, I achieved a lot (in terms of washing, cleaning and baking), but the relational failings really hit me this time. I cracked it at Eli for overreacting to Hudson and pushing him into a door frame, but could see the hypocrisy of myself losing it (overreacting) at the same time. Having these insights, however, didn't fill me with joy at the exposure of the game but caused great sadness and despair at my persistent lack. The next night I read "there will always be some degree of sadness, humiliation, and disappointment resulting from shadow work, so it's best to learn to recognize it and not obsess over it. It is the false self that is sad and humbled, because its game is over." I love that Rohr gives me a framework to understand and make sense of this part of the journey!

Another of Rohr's insights is that the shadow self is at play every time one has a strong emotional response to something. Either I am a very emotional person, or my persona is in the process of completely falling to bits! Now I have been asking myself what the root cause of the reaction is, and usually it is related to my attempts (and failure) to control or a reaction to others being seemingly unencumbered by others' view of them. Rohr says that he prays for at least one good  disappointment or humiliation a day so as to keep the shadow self firmly in view and to keep him humble. Motherhood definitely provides that quota!

Anyway, the positive side of all of this is that I have been able to recover more quickly from brain snaps and poor parenting decisions and hopefully be a very real example to the kids of facing your faults and weaknesses head on instead of burying them and suffering anxiety as a result. 

Also, as I look back through photos of the past few weeks, these internal struggles aren't what shines through, but the positive and meaningful moments of connection with Dave, Eli and Hudson. We have gone on numerous trips to Savers, baked together, set up our Christmas tree, listened to Christmas carols non stop, I've watched the boys have countless cute conversations, they have made up games together, and Dave and I have started playing a computer game together again as well!

Mum and Dad have just moved out of our family home of 24 years and the process has brought up some good memories of our time spent there. Their new house and proximal walking distance location to parks and shops is incredible, too, which makes me so excited as to the memories we will create there! 

Life is far more than the sum of struggling moments. Even if they seem to stand out like a black stain on a white dress. Meaningful connections, being vulnerable, saying sorry, creating memories, sharing experiences- this is the messiness that makes our reality so worth living.