Junior Cycle Tour 2018

You'd think that after five years of doing this, we'd be taking Junior Cycle Tour in our stride. However, when you consider that this year we had eight children in six different age/distance categories, you can imagine the chaos that ensued just to register them, never mind on the actual day!

At 08h00 it was Andel and me with five kids, five bikes, two bags and a pram, trying to get the bigger kids ready for their race.

By 10h00 they had completed their races, and we were joined by Yaya, Dom and Garth, and the rest of the riders for the later rides.

To give you an idea of what the morning felt like: when we got home a little after 13h00, which would only have been marginally later than we do on a regular Sunday once we've been to church and popped out for groceries, I felt like I had worked an entire day!

Below, in no particular order, are pictures from various people, taken throughout the day. I'm sure you can understand that I had zero time to take pics!

Duck Faces

Dabbing

Pretty pleased with his medal

Setting off on his maiden bike voyage

So keen: at the start 20 minutes before the time

Not quite as keen on this cycle race business

Seems Peyton shares Bayley's sentiments

Taking in the view?

Bonny and her babies - just missing Adi & Bay

These boys - doing it for themselves

Start-line selfie

And perhaps some nerves?

Until next year then...

Breaking Busy

I recently listened to an interview with author Alli Worthington about her book Breaking Busy: How to Find Peace and Purpose in a World of Crazy. As a relatively new mom of three, it was something that resonated with me long after the podcast had ended, because I could totally relate with everything she was saying: I know that I am way too busy, doing things that aren't all that important, and that take up too much of my time and energy, negatively influencing my health, my relationships and my productivity.

Perhaps you're in this space too and, like me, want to break the cycle before it breaks you. Here are some things I found useful:


Warning Signs
If you're finding that you're always busy, always doing things, constantly exhausted and in desperate need of a rest, although you're not quite sure when you're going to get a chance to do so, the odds are pretty good that you're overdoing it.

A good indicator for me is when my emotions are out of control - i.e. there's crying involved, impatient snapping and generally more moodiness. This is evidence to me that my expectations have gotten out of control as well. Also, I'm never late. I pride myself on that. So when I start running late, or just not getting around to doing what I must before I have to be somewhere, I'm pretty sure I have too many commitments.

When we don't take care of ourselves enough, it shows, and if we don't get it in the hints above it eventually knocks us down, literally, and we get ill. Recurrent illness, especially when we just can't get over it, is usually as a direct result of being burnt out.

Take Action
One of the things that was suggested was to, instead of making a "To Do" List to help you get through all the many things you need to get done, make a "Stop Doing" List to eliminate the unnecessary from your schedule. Ask yourself, "What are the two or three things that I’m doing now that I know in my gut I don’t want to do?" along with, "What is it God wants me to do (or not)?"

Another really useful thing is to set boundaries (in advance) around what is realistically possible to commit do. This may include limitations on how many extra murals the kids can do, or which class parties they're going to attend (because if that calendar is anything like my son's class' there's a party - or two - every weekend some months). By knowing in advance what you want to fill your time with, and what the capacity on each activity is, you'll be less likely to over commit.

Ask for help. Don't be afraid of admitting that things are hectic and you need assistance. Often people are willing to, but don't want to overstep without being given permission to do so.

Worrying leads to anxiety because of the spiral of negative thoughts and accompanying emotions. To turn the focus away from what you're bothered by, start to give yourself a truth talk, and replace whatever negative thoughts you have with truth from the Word - about who you are, and what you're meant to be doing, and how you're doing to deal with whatever it is staring you down.

  

Tools to Make Better Choices
Alli's Five Fs of decision making helps us to weigh our own thoughts and feelings against things that which either influence, or are influenced by, the outcome of our choices.

Faith – review your options in light of God, His word and with prayer

Family – be in agreement with your partner and consider the impact on your family

Future – think about how you may feel about things later on (10 minutes, 10 weeks, 10 months)

Fulfillment – consider your individual skills and talents, and whether or not they align with this

Friends – get the input from friends who have earned the trust and right to speak into your life on it

 

People, this is my goal: I want to be less busy (in general), and to change the focus of my productivity to those things that really matter (my faith, my health, my family) despite the 'cost' it may come at. I am pretty sure it's way less than the alternative. 

Defeating Day Zero

It is now (finally) common knowledge worldwide that Cape Town is in the third year of a devastating and debilitating drought that has us staring Day Zero (when municipal water will be shut off) head on.

Theewaterskloof Dam - Cape Town's primary source of water - as it looks at the moment

I posted on water saving tips last year (click here to read the post), and thought it would be good to compare what our household is currently doing under Level 6b water restrictions (using no more than 50L per person per day).

Washing Wisely: we are currently washing in buckets of less than 5L water, often sharing this water for the kids, and taking a 90 second shower only every other day. I wash my hair over a bucket in the bath using water caught from a shower, and rinse with the cleaner water caught when the shower water was warming.

Saving Grey Water: we save all bath, shower, washing and other used water, and flush the toilets using this water. We have banned the flushing of toilets with municipal water, and flush using buckets because this uses up to half of the water a normal flush (from the cistern, even with grey water) would use.

If it's yellow, let it mellow... has gone to the next level, I tell you. I have three boys living in this house, so you can imagine the impact. We have a mixture of white vinegar, essence (any) and food colouring that that we 'treat' the toilet with after each wee, however, we only flush after a poo - once a day, if we can manage it - with grey water. We also, as far as possible, leave loo paper out of the toilet to reduce the risk of blockage. Needless to say, the budget for air freshener has increased.

Fully Loaded: water collection aside, one of the biggest adjustments at Day Zero will be having to do our washing from our daily allocation. We currently do no more than 6 loads of washing per month. We are extra careful about trying to keep our clothing clean, and only throw items into the laundry when it's become essential to do so. It's not always possible to fill our front loader with grey water, especially when we are using grey water faster than we are generating it, so to save in this area we wash our washing on the rinse cycle. This uses 60% less water than the eco cycle, and we are still able to catch the water for grey water use. We also do dishes only once a day, in minimal water, in a bucket in the sink so that, if possible it can be re-used or cast into the garden.

Glug and Gulp: We each take 1 - 2L water to school and work with us for drinking as most places have already turned off the public taps. We opt for take out packaging when eating out, and also use lunchboxes - even for school breakfasts and cooked lunches - which are returned home for us to wash there.

As a household we have never been big water users. Still, by consistently doing this - even without a storage tank (besides the cost factor, we don't have the space outside our home to erect one) any without collecting spring water - we have been able to remain below 6KL water per month throughout, despite having our family expand twice since the start of the drought.


For those who are not in Cape Town, I'd like to challenge you to try living under Level 6b water restrictions (click here for the full restrictions) for at least one weekend. To give you an idea of what 50L of essential use could look like:

Source: Eye Witness News

More than the mismanagement of resources, or developments in climate change, this drought has taught me not to take water for granted, brought to my attention the insane amount of clean drinking water we have wasted on non-essential things, and given me empathy for the plight of millions all over the world for which these restrictions (and more) are a daily reality. No one should have to live this way!

Please watch the video below, and do everything that you can to not only to save water in your own home, but also to support the efforts to provide water to all people.

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Our Visit to Alphen Vet

During the Christmas holidays, on a rare but very welcome overcast morning, I planned to take all the grand-kids a year and older on an outing to allow the parents and caregivers some time to work (or relax). Thank goodness for my Pops and sister who were able to assist me, because when I did the numbers, I calculated six kids and Bayley!

It was cold and raining when we arrived, and for a moment I thought perhaps the opportunity to visit would be canceled, but Alphen Vet was happy to have us regardless of the weather. And despite the chill, we were very happy to be there.

Listening intently to the information on the animals

Not quite sure what all the fuss is about

The kids were able to learn about, feed and play (as much as they were allowed) with the resident miniature horses, springbok (one of our kids' response was: hey, they're on South Africa's rugby jersey), alpacas, tortoises, chickens and rabbits.

The Bokke

Going to feed the rabbit some carrots

Zac, on his second visit, was less apprehensive this time

Ethan: just too cool for school

Sammy up close and personal

Matthew: incognito

Jorja managed to spot a well camouflaged tortoise

Jorja confidently feeding the alpaca

Adrienne getting in on the action as well

They were also allowed to play on the jungle gym, and treated to cookies, juice and take-home colouring sheets.

The entire brood playing together

Pops walking Bayley into slumber

Thank you Alphen Vet for a great morning out! For more information on vet services as well as more open mornings/afternoons for play, please visit their website: www.alphenvet.co.za or Facebook Page.

For My Babies

For the third time in my relatively short six-year motherhood life, I find myself at the end of my maternity leave, not quite ready to go back to work tomorrow.

Maternity leave was quite different with each of you. With Zac is was  a wet and miserable winter (probably the last time it really rained in Cape Town) that had me feeling rather lonely and somewhat overwhelmed by the daunting responsibility of having my own little human to raise. With Sam it coincided with an extended visit from overseas family that brought constant companionship and support for us as we adjusted. With Bayley it has consisted, in part, of a nearly six-week school holiday with everyone (including Zac needing stitches and getting mumps, and Sam starting school), and has been somewhat overshadowed by our desperate attempts to save water in this the third year of a devastating drought.

Despite the fact that I returned to work at different times with all of you (ranging between 12 and 18 weeks), one thing about it is the same: it felt too soon.

I have felt no shame admitting to - and even posting about - being a working mom. I have said, and maintain, that I am not one who can be completely absorbed with and into my children all day. I'm not the stay-at-home-mom type, and actually am a better mother for the fact that I am able to be stimulated and productive somewhere else for part of my day. I have mastered the art of working smart, cramming hours of productivity into fewer hours of my day, so that I can experience the joy of undivided attention we can give each other when I get home. Still, tonight, it doesn't feel like enough.

Truthfully, I'm not sure it will ever feel like enough.

Something about the last few years has changed me, and I'm willing to bet it's you three. You've each chipped away at the standards that I have held myself to, and the expectations of success I have defined myself by, exposing layers of my identity that have revealed that being a mom is not just what I am; it's who I am. And there is a growing part of me that wishes I had more time to spend exclusively taking in each one's distinctive scent, venerating the uniqueness of your personalities, and holding you all close.

Chances are, there probably won't be tears (from me) tomorrow - not in public, anyway. Rightly or wrongly, I place far too much pride in my professionalism to have that happen. But my heart will ache with each goodbye, and break a bit as I part with you, Bayley, for the first time. 

It will take some getting used to for me, once again, but I'm hopeful. Because of all the titles I could have, being a good mom - your mom - is, by far, my most precious.

I love you so, my Zac-a-roo, Sammy-Spoon and sweet Bayley-Bug x

Battling the Blend between Baby and Boy

What a month this has turned out to be. A new year, eight birthdays including a 21st, 30th, 40th and 50th (I kid you not), a kid in Grade 1, end of maternity leave for me... And despite a desperately depleted bank account, the madness of the new year, and a fresh wave of back-to-work blues, the most difficult by far has been Sam.

Actually, it's not Sam who has been difficult. Sure, after the first morning of unbridled excitement and eagerness to get to school, there were tears pretty much every day the following week, but that's expected, isn't it? In truth, it's the blurred line between Baby and Boy that gets me. Here is my two - nearly three - year old, who is outgoing and friendly, and a big brother already, but he is also still nursing and going to school for the very first time, without his brother or cousins along for the ride. And I'm not sure I know how to manage this well.

Biologically, chronologically and physiologically, I understand the difference between a newborn, an infant, a baby and a toddler. But I can't be the only one struggling to find the emotional and developmental distinction? In fact, not long after starting at the new creche, I was sort of mom-shamed for nursing Sam. I don't know if it was more shock at the fact that I still nurse him, or awkwardness by the fact that I don't have a problem nursing in public. Either way, I battled with all I was feeling.

Increasingly I find myself in the grey area not knowing when to tend and when to tough-love; when to linger and when to leave, and wondering why it isn't possible to sometimes just do both. I want to hold onto this baby with his blankey and his beebee, and yet, this same boy is wearing an underpants all day, and saying words like "either"and "both"in the correct context!

In an attempt to cut us both some slack, here are some of my intentions right now, adapted from something my sister sent to encourage me:

- I'm going to love my child the best way I can. Sometimes it will involve comfort and cuddles; other times it will require rules and restrictions.

- I'm going to teach and train my child, in his own time, to develop his own unique qualities and skills.

- I'm going to nurture my child so that he knows he is accepted and supported for who he is, and not what he can do.

This is what I'm going to focus on. This, and being present, because before I know it, I'll just blink and my Baby will be all Big Boy. There is beauty and blessing of this in the blur, and I don't want to miss it.

Calamities and Cabin Fever

Anyone who has spent any kind of holiday period with kids - even more so with their own - would know the very real sense of Cabin Fever that kicks even after just a few hours of being at home. This is often magnified in extreme weather (when it's either too hot or too cold to be out), and when the holiday funds have dried up. There is one other time this may also be a problem: illness. Now put them all together: holiday + sweltering heat + limited funds + illness. That was our holiday.

A week before Christmas, on Andel's first day of holiday - something I had been waiting a while for (can you tell that I'm a working mom, completely unfamiliar and uncomfortable being at home with three kids under six?) - we took Zac to his swimming lesson. Everyone was happy: not only were we there in numbers and starting our relaxing family time together, it was also Sam's first lesson, and he was super excited! Apparently so was Zac, because he did something completely out of character: he jumped into the water and simultaneously turned toward Sam, and hit his chin on something in the pool, cutting it open.

A pretty big gash considering Zac wasn't even aware of it

Long story short: Zac needed six sutures in his chin, administered by the closest GP under local anaesthetic. To say that he was brave is an understatement. Just this past August he was admitted to hospital with respiratory issues, and squirmed and screamed the ward down when having his drip inserted. Still, this boy, lay perfectly still and without tears throughout being stitched up. He even had the sense of humour to ask me to film it - which I did.

My brave boy

Getting stitched up like a boss!

Of course the downside was not being able to get into the pool. During the holiday. In the blistering heat. While Sam was doing his thing in the water like a champ. We resorted to all kinds of alternative activities for Zac to do during these times, and he happily enough counted down the sleeps to when he could swim.

Happy in spite of it all

Then after Christmas, a day before he could take his stitches out, he woke up with a swollen face. He had woken during the night, rather unusually, screaming in pain. I thought perhaps he had earache, gave him some meds, and prepared myself for the inconvenience of a ear infection diagnosis. Except it wasn't an ear infection. It was worse. It was mumps!

Waking up with a swollen neck

Looking just a little rounder

Back into quarantine we went - and stayed until the end of Andel's leave. Fortunately (although is there really such a thing under these circumstances?) some of Zac's cousins who coincidentally had caught the mumps virus earlier in the year, considered themselves low enough risk to still hang out with us - even if it was in relative isolation.

Interestingly, eight years ago, at the same time, I was the only home with cabin fever and mumps...
At least I can send him back to school this week!

Sammy Goes To School

This morning we sent our baby boy to school.

Actually, he's not really a baby as such. He's two - nearly three, in fact. Still, he's the little boy, and because he been home or at his Yaya's house all his life so far, it's a big deal.

I'm not quite sure how Sam got the good fortune of not having to go to school for so long when Zac was sent to formal daycare (albeit with his Yaya) at 13 weeks. Somehow as things changed with Yaya changing jobs, and Papu retiring, Sam's situation stayed more-or-less the same, and he just woke every day and head to Newmans. While I know he loved it - in particular: playing with Adrienne, and accompanying Papu to Pick 'n Pay - with him due to start Nursery next year, we thought it was time to introduce him to school.

We found a place at the end of last year, and took him for a short visit there before they closed for the holidays. As a result, he spent a good portion of the last few weeks talking about his "new school (with the bikes)". Even last night he was still super excited to go. Truthfully though, I wondered whether he'd still feel the same way today.

He slept until 07h00 this morning - later than he'll need to going forward - and woke happy, as he always does. He greeted me with a huge grin and said, "Mommy, I going to school today". So he merrily got dressed, brushed his teeth, packed his bag and put on his peak cap. I looked at him for a while, in disbelief that I am, actually, sending a second child to school, and that he is no longer my baby. And I felt a little bad because he's gone through a lot of change and growing up the last three months. He must have sensed this, because he looked at me and confidently declared, "Mommy, it's going to be awesome!".

On our way to school

We took a family trip to school this morning. We all went in. We all watched him eat breakfast. And we all lingered for a bit. We were probably all waiting for the tears too, which threatened for us all when Sam asked, "Can Zac-i stay with me?". But then all it took was a little tour of his classroom - and the little toilets he can use - and he was ready and rearing to go. He gave me a huge hug and a kiss, whispered, "I love you" into my ear, and went off with his teacher.

Skater-boy Sam, ready to roll

Sammy Spoon, I am so proud of you. You are growing up so fast, and so beautifully, and with so much grace for all the changes we've enforced on you lately. I know you're going to love being in this environment where you can learn and play and find out more about who you are. And you're right, my boy, it is going to awesome!

A Special Klaasen Christmas

Christmas in London

I'm not sure what it is. Perhaps is the markets full of treats and mulled wine. Maybe it's all the bright lights and festive decorations. It could be the snow and the fact that the sun goes down at 15h30 so you can snuggle up in front of the fire with something/someone warm. Whatever it is, Christmas is so much more Christmasy in the Northern Hemisphere. And so I struggle to get into the spirit here at home.

Christmas in Cape Town

Leading up to this past Christmas I had been thinking about  how we can make things more special for our little family without it becoming too hectic and stressful. (note I said 'special' and not 'meaningful'. I think we fully understand and appreciate the real reason for the season, I just think our lack of commercial interest can put a damper on all the other things). We usually go to Andel's parents for Christmas Eve. We trek there with a million bags and presents, do a huge, traditional family dinner, and then open gifts at midnight before collapsing into bed. We then make a rushed trip home the next day, and meet up with my family around mid-afternoon for Christmas desserts and the epic drama that is Secret Santa. As much as it is definitely fun-filled, it's easy to get lost in the busyness, and just end up going with the overwhelming flow.

This year however, we did things a little differently...

This year, for the first time in 10 years (since Andel and I have been together) we stayed home. It wasn't actually our intention, but a series of events, miscommunication and coincidental decisions resulted in us having zero plans for Christmas weekend. It was wonderfully liberating, to be honest, and meant we could let the kids set the tone for the celebrations. You see, we had never bought our kids Christmas gifts before (the jury is still out on whether we should feel proud or embarrassed by that fact), so they were not expecting anything from us. They were, however, expected a rather big something from Santa.

The boys at Postcards from Bethlehem '17

Bayley meets Santa

The kids had written a letter (which before I intervened look more like ransom demands), and were confident they'd be getting their chosen gifts from him on Christmas morning. So, we bit the bullet, bought the gifts, and leading up to the big day filled our usually sparsely decorated home with seasonal paraphernalia - and, like any good parents, continually threatened to cancel their order with Santa each time they misbehaved.

On Christmas Eve the boys were so excited, they could not go to sleep. They eventually collapsed right where they were close to 23h30 - just in time for Santa to still pop around. And he did not disappoint. He came in through the backdoor that we left unlocked (because we don't have a chimney), hurriedly consumed the milk and cookies left for him (apparent by the mess left on the counter), and left his footprints all over the kitchen and lounge.

Christmas Eve story-time with Aunty Dom

Cookies and milk for Santa

Thank heaven for small mercies. Following the late night the kids had - and even later night for us Santa - not even the magic of Christmas could wake the boys before 08h00. When they did wake, however, the were overflowing with spirit - especially when they saw that Santa had delivered on their demands - I mean, requests.

Look what Santa delivered

Happiness #1

Happiness #2

Santa Bayley

We spent the laziest morning setting the boys' bikes up, and taking turns taking them up and down the street in Andel's helmet before going to check in with Andel's Ma and ailing Pa. We had a quiet, low-key and non-traditional lunch, followed by a power-nap before catching up with our families later the afternoon. We exchanged desserts and Secret Santa, and caught up with our loved ones until late into the night. When we got home we had full bellies and full hearts. And it felt good.

Annual Christmas Family Pic (and whatsapp group icon)

The truth is: I'm terrible at these family days. I find them stressful when we are all trying to attain this unrealistic measure of perfection: perfect food, perfect decor, perfect gifts, perfect relationships. It's exhausting! As a result, I decided long ago that I would limit my kids' exposure to that chaos, and create our own Christmas traditions with far simpler celebrations. We aren't quite there yet. This Christmas was an anomaly; I'm sure we'd be expected to do what we've done previous years. Still, I'm realising that, as my family grows, our focus turns inward to our nuclear family, and we make decisions with our kids in mind, and what best suited for us to create lasting memories and experiences for them. There was something so special about waking up together on Christmas morning, just us five...

Coincidental colour-coordination on Christmas Eve

So, who knows what will happen next Christmas. Whether we'll get around to a Christmas movie, matching pyjamas, or exchanging books to read through the night - we'll have to wait and see. All I know for sure is that we're preparing for Santa on Christmas eve, and cooking Christmas lunch (as per our Family Bucket List), and, no doubt, doing our own special brand of Klaasen Christmas - wherever we may be!

Happy New Year

Some time last night, while laying awake thanks to an earlier nearly three-hour nursing nap I took with my bottle-refusing daughter (a story for another day), I got thinking about New Year Resolutions. Mostly, I was thinking about how much I suck at keeping them, and how if I really wanted to make them, I should probably at least make them realistic.

Around the same time, I saw a post on social media from a friend of mine about a Family Bucket List, and I was instantly sold on the concept. I love the idea of planning things to do with and as a family, and so, courtesy of www.childhood101.com, (and after a very long discussion at the dinner table) we put the following Family Bucket List for 2018 together.

I've shared this on this space, not only to make the resource available to others, but also so that we can be kept accountable. Please feel free to, at any time, ask us how well (or not) we're doing on this list.

Another thing not mentioned on this list, that I hope to do more diligently this year, is blog.
I know I say this each year, and then blog faithfully for only a few months, so this year I've set the bar a little lower. As much as I would like to blog more often, the reality is I have a home, a husband, two jobs, and three kids that also need my attention - more so than this space. Still, because I would like to maintain this platform as a library of memories for my kids when they are older, I have set myself the target of one blog post per week. That's 52 posts. I can do that, surely? Right? Watch this space to find out!

Happy New Year! May 2018 be everything you hope for and more!

The Longest Labour Ever

I know I'm doing these posts two weeks late and a little back to front. I should probably first tell you about the journey my pregnancy took me on, and then about the labour. Sorry. The truth is: the journey is a long story, and given the short bursts of 'free' time I have with a newborn in the house, I thought I'd get this abridged account out of the way first.

Sunday 24th September
I had been experiencing prodromal labour for about three week at this point. I was already overdue (something I had never experienced before), and I had made it to the end of the school term without having to take unpaid leave. Zac was away camping on the beach with some of our extended family for the weekend while we were home (because we had expected to have a newborn around already).

Waiting...

It was a slow morning. We were going to collect Zac from camp, and took our time heading out. It was actually really great to get some alone time with Sam, so we ran a few errands, popped in at a friend, and then had a bite on the road en route to the beach. We spent most of the afternoon there before heading home. We even went for a walk on the beach, and took a pic captioned "we are still waiting".

The last of my alone time with my baby Sam

By the time I got to bed, I was having those regular contractions that never amounted to anything and always faded by morning. Then at midnight I could not sleep; the contractions were still as they had been before, except that they were starting to hurt - enough that I couldn't sleep through them. I timed them for an hour while I paced our passage in the dark. They were 10 minutes apart - as they always were at night - but I could no longer lay down through them. I woke Andel to let him know (and he went back to sleep as soon as I told him I didn't think it was that significant).

Monday 25th September
By the time my family woke on Monday morning - which was a public holiday in SA, thank goodness - I had not been back to bed. I had alternated between pacing the house and squatting next to my bed through each contraction, still, 10 minutes apart. I told Andel I hadn't slept but that since the contractions hadn't got any closer together, they would probably fade, and I would be able to make up some sleep during the day. Except, of course, that by midday they hadn't faded. They also hadn't gotten any closer together. They were sore though, and I was not getting a chance to sleep.

We attended the first birthday of our friends' daughter that afternoon. I hadn't planned on staying, but the distraction seemed like a good idea. The contractions kept coming, wave after wave, every 10 minutes, and I had to catch my breath or crouch down as they did. Eventually, after I had had enough of smiling through the pain and answering all the "are you still pregnant?" questions, we head home. I had been (awake) dealing with contractions for 17 hours already!

By 18h00 I was on the phone with my doula trying to figure out what was going on. Contractions were getting mildly closer together, but at eight minutes apart, it still wasn't significant enough to go into hospital, I thought. After all, with Zac (the only other spontaneous labour I'd experienced) I went in with contractions five minutes apart (although admittedly not nearly as sore as what I was already experiencing).

By 19h00, we called the hospital and explained the situation, and the sister on duty told us to come in to be checked out. I was happy with that arrangement; after all, I thought, if I was not in real labour, they would send me back home.

19h20
We arrived at hospital, without breaking any traffic laws, in an impressive time given we stay half the world away from the hospital. I was immediately placed on foetal monitoring, and checked out.

20h45
After having been examined by the sister on duty (who also happened to be a midwife) my doctor (who happened to be returning from his weekend away) upon hearing it was me, decided he'd come check me out as soon as he was back in town. At this point I  thought I would be going back home.

21h30
The doctor arrived to check me out. Despite being 4cm dilated ten minutes earlier when the midwife checked (still in latent labour, and able to go home), when he checked I was 6cm, and officially admitted for the long-haul. I was also now on the clock: I had to dilate consistently, at least 1cm an hour, or things would be considered risky. At this point my contractions were five minutes apart, and while I had to still be constantly connected to the foetal monitor, I could be on my feet. The doctor said he'd come back to check on my around midnight.

23h30
I don't think I was ever really prepared for the onslaught my body would have to endure bearing each contraction. Add to this the fact that I had been awake and on my feet nearly 24 hours already, and I was not in good shape. We had been regularly losing the foetal signal while I was contracting, so I had been made to get back on the bed. In this position I was in some serious pain, contracting every minute or two, and my quiet, controlled, breathing-led handling of my labour had been replaced by some wild-animal sounds, and constant begging for some decent pain relief (the gas had not done the trick, and merely caused me to get sick) and/or a c-section. The sister checked me again. My labour had not progressed at all in the two hours since the doctor had been there.

Bed-bound and totally over it

Tuesday 26 September
Upon hearing that I had not dilated any further, I was prepared, willing and happy to do a repeat c-section. I was tired, and my body felt like it was shutting down. Being numbed up, cut open and spared from further pain was a welcoming thought. But when the doctor examined me, not even 30 minutes after the sister did, I was 9cm dilated. This should have been a celebration; knowing that the end was in sight. But I all I could do was beg for an epidural. So they gave me one.

Around 01h00
Getting the epidural in while having constant contractions was no joke. I remember wondering how the heck I was meant to sit 'perfectly still' while my uterus seemed to twist itself into a knot around every other organ in close proximity to it. I squeezed Andel's hands with insurmountable force that I had since not been able to replicate.

Being so close to delivery, I was not allowed to have a full epidural, and so when it eventually kicked in, I was still able to feel and move my legs. In fact, I could still feel the contractions - but I was eternally grateful for the measure of pain relief it brought, especially when my waters were broken. It allowed me to recollect my thoughts and concentrate long enough to hear the doctor tell the sister to prepare for delivery.

02h00
Finally I was fully dilated, fully effaced and baby was awaiting ejection. During this time though, what I haven't spent much time mentioning is that, there were concerns. Between me losing the foetal signal and the baby not quite enjoying the contractions, the sister was growing increasingly concerned about the baby's heart rate, and at least three times I thought I was going to be rushed into theatre. The doctor though - bless him! - if he had the same concerns, didn't let on except to tell me, "ok, we don't have hours to do this. You are going to have to push this baby out now".

02h15
I got the go ahead to push. I may have felt, for just a second, a little remorse at having the excuse for an epidural that allowed me to feel just about everything except the real urge to push, but that thought didn't last long. As each contraction began, I took a deep breath and bore down hard. Guided by my phenomenal doctor and the amazing sister, and supported by the peaceful reassurance of my wonderful doula and champion husband, this continued only 20 minutes. That was all it took.

The moment of truth

At 02h36, after 26 hours of awake labour, as my doctor lifted a small, squashy (surprise) baby girl for me to see, Bayley Cate Klaasen (who was still nameless at the time) was born.

Checking out of the labour room