Images of the first month

Tao of zendaddy

The Tao that can be spoken is not the Eternal Dao


This is Jude the Important, a few hours or days old.



My life has always been full, and now more than ever. There seems never to be time enough for all the words one should write, so until I find my voice (or my pen) once more, let me offer thousands of words instead. I am so happy Jude is here, that he is. Tat tvam asi, my son.


Each day he is more lovely and strangely...a person. He is utterly present, yet every hour brings him closer to what we recognise as compos mentis. He is so alive, and so much a youngling. Gods, how do I speak this experience?

Thomas, Seth, street, whatyouwill - each of me is energised by his being, his scent, his foci. I haven't even begun to consider his possibilities.

Whether you be a parent or not, my friends, allow me this comment. My son has brought me great thinkings, and feelings, and passions and potentials. While voices in me shout "Don't breed, the world can only bear so much humanity, and there is more than enough!", other senses dwell in satisfaction and hale pride. The bio-urge rings, and yet my consideration, my academe, feels well content in this new life.

Jude is this lovely, laughing, beamish beautiful baby boy. He is just so cool. He's interested in lots of stuff, seems to be learning about the world around him with ease and spped.

We take him into different environments, and he enjoys them all. As long as the lad is fed, and clean and burped, he's good to go.

Nelle, by the way, rocks. Hve I mentioned I love her to bits? The hip hick chick who became my private passion remains a most wondrous woman. (And woman has been perhaps my most passionate study.) Mama Frog is way cool. A leader in the field. Thank you, Nelle, for all of this.

Until the next, anon. Zendaddy out.

Airing out my innards

Mamafrog's Log Star Date 10/27/06 We have decided to remember the pain for the sake of our readers everywhere. This is not about Jude. This is all about me. This is the story of how I got cut open A SECOND TIME in less than 36 hours...

So as I mentioned previously, little Jude was a fantastic little guy from day one and a born sucker. Hurdle #1 passed. But I felt shitty, to say the least. I was all drugged up and huge (I had no idea how huge until I saw the pictures later) and didn't get out of bed thanks to el-catheter and a whole lotta Demerol. As I had a big nasty wound (that Frank cleaned up nicely of course and put clamps in instead of stitches to help with the scar - hahaha if I only I knew then), I wasn't on diaper or burp duty. I just had to lie there and when the little dude was hungry, let him eat. It was very cute (and kind of unnerving) as he quickly learned that when he was horizontal and near my chest that a boob was near and would start sucking the air in anticipation. And I had a flock of enthralled family and friends there to pick up the slack. I was still very sore and was not really interested in moving much. I didn't get out of bed all Saturday, but as I said, I didn't really need too. And I didn't notice that I was still very swollen as that was the only view I had had of my abdomen for the past four months anyway.

The next day Thomas took my sister to Kenting to finish the dive course she started while she was here. As my mom was around I thought nothing of his absence. She was more than happy to have a full day to hang with the boy as they were leaving on Monday. I got out of bed and hobbled to the bathroom early that morning with Thomas' help and tried to avoid doing it again as much as possible. I think I made it out of bed that day about three times. I was in great amounts of pain.

At about noon Frank came to check on me and was instantly very concerned. He could see that my abdomen was still the same size it had been when I still had a child in it. He tapped my stomach lightly and I couldn't help but cry out. He then said what no one wants to hear after major surgery - "That's not so good." They brought an ultrasound machine upstairs and he discovered that I was still bleeding and a fair bit of blood had gathered - too much to disintegrate by itself. He told me that if he didn't remove it I could get an infection and thus, I was wheeled to surgery again. This time, I had NO light reflections on Monty Python. Did I mention that I was in a great deal of pain? It was much like contractions only it didn't peak and then go away, it peaked and stayed there. More pain than I have ever been in in my life. The changes from one stretcher to the next were agony. And I have to say I was more than a bit freaked out. Surgery is a bit frightening anyway and I have never experienced it before. So take the regular anxiety and multiply it by...oh I don't know how much because I didn't understand what anyone was saying as no one in the room except Frank and the intern spoke English.

This is probably why I love Frank so much. He kept talking to me throughout the whole thing, reassuring me that things were fine, telling me stories and whatnot, and that was probably what kept me sane until the epidural kicked in. And yes, I got another epidural (Frank was saying they usually use an epidural for abdominal surgery as that way they can keep the patient conscious to monitor his/her condition) and this time paid a lot more attention. I first lost feeling in my right leg, then my left, and the numbness crept through my lower body. I could definitely sense that my feet were still attatched and could "feel" them in proximity to my legs, but had no hope of moving them. But get this - I was in so much pain the epidural did not eliminate all sensation. I mean, it didn't hurt any more but I could still feel the edge of my former agony. I don't know if that makes any sense but that's as close as I can describe it. I had full sensation to just below my clavicle, and this time I was fully aware that there would be no moving me feet.

So there I was for the second time in less than two days, lying on an operating table, with my guts exposed. Starting to feel a bit like a M*A*S*H extra. I calmed down a fair bit after the drugs took effect - 15mins for this to happen to be precise. And of course this procedure took much longer than the last one. When he went in to get Jude he got to cut his way there. This time he had to carefully undo all the work he had done the day before. It took a long time, time of course that I spent strapped to the table calmly imagining worst case scenarios. No fairy dust for me, I tell ya.

I looked up at one point and realized with morbid fascination that I could see what they were doing. They had turned the big lights to a different angle and I could see the reflection of my open middle in the polished stainless steel. It wasn't as bad as you would think though; I couldn't see anything that clearly and I couldn't feel any pain so it wasn't that bad and mostly intriguing. Still a bit odd, seeing two pairs of hands wipe up your guts.

Ok, not my guts exactly. You see, the blood clot formed between my layer of abdominal muscles and fascia, and the blood came from a ruptured blood vessel in my abdominal muscles. When they do the surgery, they cauterize all the vessels as they go, but it is possible they missed one. Or I could have ruptured it doing something as simple as lifting my head while I laid in bed the next day. This is what I get for being so determined to have nice abs. Pain, and loads of it. The blood clot they removed was 500cc - that's like 500mL in volume and that's a bottle of soda. It was huge. Frank even showed it to me - it barely fit in his hand. And because they had to remove so much blood, I had to have an infusion. So I had an IV in both arms. Really hard to hold a baby with pins in both your wrists. Somehow we managed though.

Finally, two hours later, they were finished and my middle was closed for business. I was wheeled back up to my room to where my mum and Jude awaited. Mum, being the babysittin' ninja she is, got him to stop crying. (Incidentally that second day is the most he has cried in his life so far, but I am sure that will change in the future.) And I wasn't allowed to sit up for 8 hours, while all sorts of guests roamed around my room and held my baby, damn it! The second catheter meant that I didn't have to get out of bed for another day, but that it hurt to urinate for the next two weeks. My Demerol drip (and the extra shots I requested a few days later when they took the drip machine away) were my best friends. Eventually I became well enough to burp and change Jude on my own and we enjoyed the rest of being left alone for a few hours at a time.

I didn't get released from the hospital until the following Saturday (September 30th) which means that I spent 10 flippin' days in there. But I was happy to after the mess I was in - better to be safe than sorry. Jude got discharged before I did (Wednesday) but he was happy to camp out and keep me company. The fact that I hold the monopoly on his food source may have swayed his decision.

So that's it. I survived and the pain became less and less (until my milk came in on Monday and I had GI-NORMOUS breasts that were ROCK-HARD! Guys, you have no idea!). And now, five weeks later, I am almost entirely healed and lookin' forward to going back to my training classes in a few more weeks. But being very, very careful doing sit-ups. Maybe only neck-ups. Or roll my eyes maybe........


Oh, and sorry, no pictures of any of this. Sorry. Didn't want to gross out any of our more squeamish of readers.

And ladies, if I may make a suggestion. If you want to have a child, even if you plan to have a natural birth (I have learned there is no "plan" with anything involving children), let your abs go. Stay fit - that's probably why I had such an easy pregnancy - but let your abs go. You'll be much happier in the end if you do.

- "'Imagine your pain, the pain itself, is a white ball of healing light.' - I don't think so!" --Tyler Durden, Track 12 Fight Club Soundtrack

Forcibly ejected

Infant Sorrow

My mother groaned, my father wept,
Into the dangerous world I leapt;
Helpless, naked, piping loud,
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.

Struggling in my father's hands,
Striving against my swaddling bands,
Bound and weary, I thought best
To sulk upon my mother's breast.

-Willam Blake

Mamafrog's Log Star Date 22/10/06 Hey there me lovelies. Finally the mail you have all been waiting for. Well now, where to begin. I know you have all been waiting patiently for the details I have been promising but I would like to take this opportunity to say that I am no more adept at getting things done beyond taking care of the wee dude's needs than any other new parent out there. Man, does a baby suck up your time. Even a very well behaved one! But finally, here is the story (from my perspective of course) of our snazzy little guy's entrance into the world.

I would have to say that of the three major life-change experiences I have had in the months as of late (they being birth, pregnancy and the intro of motherhood) I would have to say that I like the former the least and the latter the most. To be a bit more clear...as many of you remember I really didn't enjoy being pregnant very much - month 7 when I wasn't entirely uncomfortable and was not going in to work anymore was probably the best. And month 6 I felt pretty good, other than being allergic to everything on the farm. But the two months I was terribly hot and uncomfortable and downright bitchy, as most of you recall. I also informed some of you that if the babe didn't appear before September 20th he would be forcibly ejected from the premises. Easier said than done.

I was really hoping he would come earlier as my dear mum Colleen and me dear sis Amanda were coming out to see me and him and Colleen is baby crazy (especially as this is her first grandchild, with no others in sight for awhile and arriving on the other side of the globe no less). But September 11th came and went, as did the 12th, 13th, 14th (the day he was "due" to arrive so we celebrated by taking a 1.5hr trip down to the beach), 15th, 16th and so on. Finally the 20th arrived. Thomas and I took my bags and went to the hospital. The reason my doc (a totally wicked dude - I love him - he rocks and if there was some way to see him more often withOUT having another child I would do it!) wanted to induce labour is that from all signs me and the babe and all my inner bits were raring to go, so he figured we should just get a little kick start. So I began taking the medication on Wednesday afternoon. To no avail. Here they give you pills for the first six hours and then an IV drip, which they increase every 10 hours or so until the contractions come quick enough. So I was there, all hooked up to machines that went "beep beep beep" (not quite "Bing") for that entire day. And still nothing happened.

The next day (Sept 21) the doc came back and asked us what we wanted to do. Initially we thought maybe go home, but Dr. Tsai said that often it takes awhile to get going and we should give it one more day. I thought that if it was a choice between going home and being big, bloated, bitchy and uncomfortable in the heat and staying in the air con hospital, I would pick the hospital. So we signed up for the second day.

Friday morning (Sept 22) I woke up and noticed the "real" contractions starting. At about noon they were consistent and noticeably painful and I had finally dilated to 3 cm. At 14:00 they were 4-6 minutes apart but still bearable, although that quickly changed. But 22:00 I couldn't take it anymore and was almost sold on having an epidural. Unfortunately they could not give me one until I was 4 cm. And after 10hrs of intense, painful contractions in rapid succession, I was still at 3 cm. This is what I get for being so bloody concerned with having ripped abs! On top of that, my little guy did NOT enjoy what was happening in there and was fighting back with every ounce of energy he had - very, very counter productive! As if labour wasn't painful enough, my son decides to kick me during the whole thing! At this point I was in tears and not really able to focus on breathing exercises. The doc came back and said that as soon as the surgery was clear, he wanted to do a cesarian. The baby was still ok but the doc was concerned that if labour continued like that, he might - like his mother - go into distress. So we got ready for surgery.

Every jolt on the ride down to surgery was a nightmare. I couldn’t help but think of the skit on Monty Python’s the meaning of life as I rode down, but unfortunately I was NOT smiling! And then the three stretcher changes almost put me over the top. Thomas arrived in surgery and the intern told him he had to wait outside. With almost ferocious certainty, Thomas told him he was coming in, so they decked him out in surgery gear and we went in.

To receive an epidural one has to get into the fetal position (ha ha – the irony! And the pure ridiculousness of having to squish up like a fetus when you are HUGE and in gi-normous amounts of pain, nearly impossible!). But the small sting of the needle in my spine was nothing compared to what I was going through.

The epidural was a strange experience to be sure. Having no experience with drugs of the painkiller nature I was dubious as to the overall effectiveness of the medication. After a minute or so, Frank (my doc) asked me if my one leg had gone numb yet. In fact, both had. They settled me back down lying flat and the tingly sensation crept through my lower body. I became immediately calm. (Thomas commented on how unnerving the change was later). They strapped my arms down (loosely) and put up a curtain under my chin. I was aware of where my feet were and kept telling myself I could move them if I wanted to. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Thomas, all decked out in scrubs and looking more than a little weird, was more than interested to witness this whole procedure. Maybe it was his interest in first aid training. As I said I wasn’t convinced that all sensation in my lower half was gone. And then Thomas said, “Can you feel anything?” and I knew they had begun.

I was totally relieved that I couldn’t feel a thing so I asked him what it looked like. He compared it to that scene in The Empire Strikes back when Han cuts open the Tauntaun to stick Luke inside. Now some would not have appreciated the image, but as I was kind of experiencing it third person it was fascinating. When they got to the layer of abs, Frank said something in Chinese and then to us said, “Good, strong muscle!”. At that point I was flattered, although I would rue this fact later. I could feel my body being moved around only by proxy to the parts that were still retaining sensation. And then Frank said, “Are you ready?”, and I felt force or pressure on my abdomen pushing up toward my head. Then I saw the look on Thomas’ face - his eyes nearly came out of his head and then kinda like a whooshing sensation the other way. A second later, our dear boy started crying and Thomas looked down at me with tear in his eyes and tears came to me as well. Our little Jude was finally out and howling like there was no tomorrow!

Thomas told me later that the pressure I felt was Frank putting his hand inside, got the baby by the neck and pulled him right out. Which is why Thomas' eyes nearly came out of his head.

Then of course the pediatrician took Jude away and Thomas disappeared from my view. Frank began stitching me up and I felt a bunch of painless tugging on my lower half. Thomas came back after a few minutes and said, "He's beautiful! He looks just like your dad and he's got the biggest scrotum I've ever seen!" Men, eh? (Kaz Cooke - my Australian authority on everything baby says that it is normal for the private bits for newborn babies to be a bit swollen at birth. Although others have commented much as Thomas did since the great ordeal! ;) ) Jude scored an 8 out of 10 on the initial APGAR test and then a 9 out of 10 on the second. Already an overachiever!

After his tests, a screaming, red and wrinkly Jude was brought back to me and put in the crook of my left arm so I finally got a look at him. His face was red, his hands were blue and he was inconsolable. Apparently he did NOT want to come out that day! Then they took him down to the baby room and Frank finished sewing me up (took about twenty minutes). At some point after that I was wheeled back to my room where my ma and sis were waiting for us.

At 04:00 Jude was brought back to me to attempt his first docking on the mothership as a solo fighter. He took to the breast like a professional. A nurse later told me that she had never seen a baby take to it so fast. I believe it was because he got lots of practice in the womb. We had several 3-D ultrasounds taken while I was 8 months pregnant and every time he was sucking on his umbilical cord. Practice makes perfect right? He stayed with us until it was bath time and we finally got some sleep. But how could one sleep on such a momentus day?

The details:
Jude Anarion Thomas was forcibly ejected from the premises on Saturday, September 23, 2006 at 00:19. He was born on the Autumn Equinox of this year and also on the cusp of Virgo and Libra, to be ever plauged by indecisiveness. He weighed 3276g (7lbs and 3oz) and measured 50cm (19in). And from the very beginning, he was a cute-T!



-- "Nothing is worth more than this day." - J.W. Goethe