... to all mothers, mothers to be, and any others reading this!
I would like to dedicate this blog to my mother, Ella White, who died 10 May 1985. The picture shows me with three of my (5) sisters: (L-R) Marion Andrews, Jane Ganter, and Annette Enchelmaier.
Today we have enjoyed a traditional family Sunday dinner after church. With a lovely white table cloth, a candle in the middle of the table, using the good crockery and cutlery, the meal was complete with roast chicken and veges, and followed by a lovely dessert, prepared my our daughter Bec.
Having family members around the table is something so basic to a mother that we can easily overlook its importance. Since my four young ones have left the nest, and set up their own homes, I treasure these special meal times. Sometimes we have to extend the table and find extra chairs; in good weather we set up tables al fresco on the deck.
A client phoned thismorning to tell me how disappointed she was; that she had thought her labour was getting underway last night. Contractions were coming regularly every six minutes for a couple of hours. Eventually she went to bed. It had all fizzled. AGAIN!
I reassured her. Her body is preparing for labour; not quite ready yet. I expect we will see this baby soon.
The final days of waiting for labour can be very difficult. It doesn't surprise me that induction of labour is frequently carried out for 'other' than valid reasons. Its not just the mother who can feel disappointed or frustrated in waiting for that indefinable tipping point. The midwife or doctor can find all sorts of reasons why, from a practical, time management point of view, it is reasonable to induce a labour.
However, the finely balanced processes that are orchestrated in normal labour and birth can be terribly disturbed with induction of labour. One intervention leads to another, and quickly the cascade of interventions become the driving force. Once the process has been started there is no going back.
I remember those nights in late pregnancy when I felt secretly hopeful that something was going to happen. I remember the doubts that came up in my mind: will I labour? will I know I am in labour? (silly questions, I know, but that didn't stop them from coming)
I think this mental turmoil is part of our instinctive nesting. We become unsettled, and perhaps difficult to live with. We become self absorbed.
The labour will establish, and the child will be born.