The Flying Mamma

So off I went at 21 weeks. New hospital. New obstetrician - a queen in the delivery room I was told. “Have you thought about your birth plan?” Plan? Already?  I was surprised that she was asking me so early on. I knew at the very least I was aiming for a natural birth (now I know that “natural birth” is a massive umbrella term). But  she made me feel like my wishes were heard and taken seriously. That we’d be on the same page all the way through. Doc handed me a checklist of the hospital’s birth plan options as a guide for me to begin creating my own. That very night, I blew up Google with my relentless searches. Catherisation? What for? Labour augmentation? And what the fuck was syntocinon? I thought I just had to push and now I had all these things I might need to consider. Then I got deep. Deep into reading about physiological birth. Magical and euphoric. And then I got even deeper. Discovering the existence of obstetric abuse and traumatic birthing experiences. I always as...

An organised mess. That’s the way I’m writing these blog entries. All good, there are no rules here. Just sharing vulnerably in whichever way it comes out. Kind of how I do everything else these days.  Starting one thing here then seeing something else and getting a head start on that. Finishing what I originally started 2 days later. Drives my husband mad.  Anyone else? Yet somehow in my unconventional, systematic method it all comes together and shit gets done. But when I look at The Flying Mamma  Instagram page, I feel like it’s coming across a bit negative. Maybe it’s the monochrome mixed in with the emotional and fiery quotations.  I need you to know that there is truly so much passion where this is all coming from. I get so excited talking about all things pregnancy, labour, birth, breastfeeding, post partum and beyond! It just truly saddens me that a lot of women are cut short from the miracle of these experiences. Or haven’t informed themselves enough or at a...

It’s nap time. And I’m in between making a nutritious lunch for bubs while snacking on Hershey’s chocolate drops for mine. Lovely. I need to vent. I’ve been on ground for 5 days now.  I was  feeling grateful. Because if I had another job, I know I’d probably never have that much time off.  There, I said it. So I woke up this morning thinking hey, we survived that brutal long ass trip last week. Maybe we can do this. Maybe it’s not so bad. But then my roster changed. And the resentment, anxiousness and shitty mood erupted from every cell in my being. Knowing my son will wake up searching for me. Looking towards the door. Wondering where I’ve disappeared to again. He knows. Before the suitcase even comes out. It’s like he has a sixth sense about it. I try my hardest to masque my energy. But baby boy knows. I hate leaving in the night. I hate leaving in the day. I hate leaving full stop. I’m constantly torn between the way I would love to raise our son and the way it needs t...

I’m home! But before I could shower and curl up with my baby bear, I had a buffet of breast milk to sort and put in the freezer.  I’ll definitely dedicate a future entry to pumping, breast pumps and storage of milk; especially while travelling. How does that sound? So after stripping my makeup off and showering the remnants of the flight off me, I snuck into bed with my boys. Ahhhhh. Finally. 5 days craving for this very moment. I hugged my son gently, not wanting to wake him. But half hoping he would. One of my breast pump’s batteries didn’t survive the mid-flight pump (I swear I charged it!), so I had one side in need of a good emptying and hormonal wakeup.  Why? Because considering the amount of hours passed since properly pumping, it wasn’t bursting like it usually would.  I’m not surprised, after so many days of artificially stimulating breastmilk secretion with a pump. Without getting stuck into this (because it also deserves a dedicated entry,) it goes to show the ...

I’m sat here. Bawling. I’ve got breast milk I’ve pumped that I have to dump. And 4 more days before I can hold my son. Watching him sleep through the camera. Imagining him close. Inhaling his little curls and snuggling all night. When rosters are released, we spend a lot of time trying to rearrange our flights. Doing everything to minimise the time our son spends without us. But. We also get “standby” months. No roster. Just our souls, ready and available. Day by day. I’ve been dreading it.  D R E A D I N G it since coming back from maternity leave. Wondering how we’d cope when we’d be rostered for it - let alone both of us together. I felt sick. Siiiiiccckkk.  Imagine not knowing if you are leaving or for how long. Intriguing? I can assure you that it’s absolutely not. It’s nerve wracking enough if you’ve got cats, let alone children. So standby, in  the middle of the night. After 4 days off. You know what that means?  Legality wise in aviation, it translates to wel...