AMAIA

Amaia has followed in all her siblings' footsteps this week by getting onto BBC Scotland's photo page. Awwwwh!

APPLE

This is really amusing - especially if you aren't Apple's greatest fan.

GLAD TO ESCAPE INSULAR BRITAIN

I decided to watch the news tonight on TF1 while feeding Amaia. I had seen the UK news so knew what was going on in Europe... or did I? The French news told me in great detail of the freezing temperatures in every country in Europe except the UK, hitting as low as -32°C in some countries, killing people left, right and centre. I had noticed some Danish friends on facebook moaning about the new wave of cold but this is amazing. Straight away I went onto BBC Europe but there's no mention there. It is like we are cut off from all information pertinent to the whole continent. I am so glad I can speak other languages and therefore escape insular Britain into the news everyone else is hearing.

HOMEMADE PRESERVES

I know rumour has it I am going to be 42 next week, but given I am from the UK, admitting that I have never made jam, marmalade or anything similar in my life does not single me out as terribly odd. One of the first questions my first mother-in-law asked me at 18 was what my favourite jam to make was - I was quite embarrassed to admit I didn't know how to make jam, she dubbed me an 'intello' thereafter, and never revised that opinion! Thomas decided yesterday to make marmalade (see here on the left), (which seems to have become whisky marmalade somewhere along the line) and I watched. It actually seemed easy! I mentioned how much I like lemon curd and he dug me out a recipe. I decided to rope in Charlotte as a scapegautier in case I failed miserably! So today after school Lots and I made our first batch of lemon curd (here on the right) and it's bloody brilliant - so good I am tempted to try lime or orange curd tomorrow! That's next Xmas sorted - small homemade preserves for everyone :-)

A PROBLEM WE DON'T SEE OFTEN IN SCOTLAND

Since the end of the cold spell that lasted from the week before Xmas till Amaia's birth, I have started to notice a problem we don't often encounter here in the west of Scotland. Our little Scottish 'palm trees' are dying! These more exotic trees usually survive our winters that don't often go below -6°C, but this year we hit -9°C and all these poor trees are starting to droop.

QUALITY, STYLE AND BEAUTY

My major garlic press rant of last autumn did not go unnoticed! When Amaia was born last week, Sabine dropped by with a cuddly bear and a beautiful new garlic press for her and I must say it is the epitome of quality, style and beauty! It is so sturdy you could crush a car in it, so shiny you could replace your favourite ornament with it and so non-British in its functionality I feel almost like I've moved somewhere Mediterranean! It's so perfect I need all the kitchen tools in the set! Thanks Sabine! Amaia can't wait for her first taste of pureed carrot (with added garlic!)

ITALIAN DESIGNER-LABEL COATS

With five kids and no lotto cash in the bank, designer clothes isn't something I can allow myself to indulge in. Coats are usually something I buy on sale at the end of winter and keep ten years. I've never had an exciting coat, only a standard, functional, dark-coloured one. Last Xmas my in-laws were over from Denmark. The pound hadn't long fallen by 35% against the Danish currency. Out shopping, my mother-in-law was skipping along telling me that shopping in Scotland felt more like you'd expect in India or somewhere similar. When she saw the price of coats in an Italian designer shop had been reduced by 50% and factored in the new exchange rate, she insisted on buying me one. I didn't put up much of a fight! People who usually don't notice my clothes started declaring coat-envy! I felt a million dollars in my beautiful purple coat. I considered putting in my will that I should be buried in my coat, given I was never likely to have another expensive coat. This winter I was pregnant so didn't get to wear my beloved coat until this week. I happily put it back on yesterday. What happened to your coat? Thomas asked while we were out walking... what did he mean? I took it off. Half of my coat has faded to a pale pink where it has been in the light in our hall, the other half is still purple. My coat is ruined! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah! I guess I need to go back to being the girl with the coat no one envies :-(

CHASING WILD GEESE

When Amaia was born last week, the paediatrician discharging her wanted me to have her hips checked as he suspected a minor problem. He wrote in her notes that she was to be checked at Yorkhill by ultrasound when she reaches six weeks. When she was three days old a letter turned up inviting her for a hip scan today. How efficient... With Marcel and Lots at school we loaded the three wee ones into the car and set out for the hospital. This was made all the more stressful by Anna being on her second day of potty training, and so being nappiless at the very time of the afternoon she often falls asleep if taken on a car trip! They scanned Amaia on arrival and agreed the hips seemed both shallow and immature. I was then asked her age (given she's big enough to be six weeks). When I replied that she was born last week, they sent us home again telling us she was too young to be checked and asking us to return when she turns six weeks! I just love all these NHS goose chases I seem to end up on thanks to my kids! I wonder where I can apply to have my petrol refunded in the meantime?

TEN DAYS OLD

I know I am biased but isn't my mini-troll just beautiful? :-)

POOR BABY

One of the things newborns seem to be prone to is oral thrush. Obviously the problem with that is that it is easily transferred to the mother too as the baby suckles, leaving the mother's breasts in the same painful state as the baby's tongue. Though all of my babies have developed this to some extent in the first days of life, Amaia definitely has the worst case by far. From a distance you'd swear she already had teeth, her mouth and gums are so white and furry. Fortunately after a day of her on Nystan suspension and me on Daktarin gel, things seem to be starting to die down just a little. Soon I'll be able to feed her without my eyes watering!

ALL THE BABY BUCHANANS

After Amaia's birth last week, we had to take a new photo of Granny and Pumpa with all their grandchildren just to keep things up to date. As two only children themselves, I doubt they were expecting to have this many grandchildren!

THE CRUELTY OF NATURE

As I said on 11-01-10, sleeping on my stomach is one of the pleasures I miss most when I am pregnant. The first night after having a baby I lie there on my (wobbly) stomach feeling all is right with the world again. Of course, what I always forget is that the very next day, when the milk comes in you can no longer sleep on your stomach because your boobs hurt too badly! Waaaah. Nine days on and I am still too sore :-(

BIRTH AGAIN

When I had Anna back in 2007, I blogged the birth after a few days as a reminder to myself and Anna herself in years to come. Unfortunately I wasn't a blogger back when I had the others - though maybe soon I should note those down as best I can remember them too before time takes its toll...
The last month has been hard. Because of the size of Baked as we'd all come to know her, I reached breaking point physically about the end of November. I was still working and just reaching my laptop was sore. I was exhausted but needed to finish two months work in one to allow myself to go on maternity leave on 11 December. Working from home with no childcare for a two year old means working when no kids are about. Thomas was working with New Zealand which was helpful because it meant he could take off mornings and work till late in the evening. That allowed me to work mornings and after Marcel went to bed at 10pm. Working till midnight or one every day for the last month is not to be recommended but needs must.
When I visited the hospital on December 2, it was insinuated that they planned to induce me on December 30, so I fixed that goal in my mind.
By Christmas walking around a supermarket had become too painful with such a big baby. Eating wasn't fun, sleeping impossible. For the first time in all my pregnancies I was finding it hard to stay positive.
When nothing happened at the end of December and they threatened to leave me till the 23rd of January before inducing me I was really depressed. Eventually I simply became resigned and set my focus further in the future to get through.
Labour started and stopped on New Year's Day and after that I lay awake most nights exhausting myself unnecessarily.
Finally on 10-1-10, I went to hunt out the dreaded Southern in preparation for my hospital transfer. I sat up late that night on the computer blogging, editing photos, reading news and went to bed around 1am.
At 4 I woke up with a contraction. There was nothing new there as this had happened most nights for a month. Once again I knew I would sit and time potential twinges for an hour or two, then go to sleep once I had established there was no pattern. I had a contraction again at 4-15 and one at 4-30. They then went to ten minute intervals... I was following the pattern of January 1st all over again.
When they were still doing this at 5, I decided to waken Thomas who contacted mum and dad to babysit the other four. The only request they'd made was that I shouldn't get them up at 4am - oops.
I rang triage and no one answered for ages. Had the hospital shut two days early? Eventually a yawning man said Hellllllooooo? I was almost convinced I had rung a private house but I guess they just weren't busy because he seemed to know what I was talking about.
Driving in at 6-30am before rush hour took just 16 minutes - in which time I had six contractions. Whoever put speed bumps around the car park of a maternity hospital has never been in labour!
We parked at the door and it took another two contractions to get into reception. Triage, which had been a disaster last time round (and hadn't existed for my first three) was a delight. There was no insistence on monitoring and given my previous history, the friendly nurse simply sent me straight to delivery after ascertaining I was already 3-4cm.
Unfortunately she told me I had to have this put in my hand as I was at a great risk of losing too much blood. This was to become the most unpleasant part of the next 24 hours.

I walked up to deliveries and met a middle-aged Irish midwife who took down all my details but was going off duty at 7am. She handed over to a younger Chinese midwife who was introduced to me as 'Hughie'. Despite my pain, I had to laugh and think of what my old Gramps might have said had he lived to hear the story of Shug the Chinese midwife! (It turned out to be Hiu-ying, by the way!)
I was told the registrar would have to be present at my birth because of "the high risk of caesarean, shoulder dystocia or severe bleeding". Funny all these high risks that seemed to be stamped on my notes but which had never been mentioned to me!
If truth be told, I have over the years heard many stories along the lines - I was told my baby was going to be 9lbs but it turned out to be 7lbs etc. I really didn't want a caesarean so refused it, but deep down I was also convinced they were probably wrong about the baby I was carrying. Yes, I could feel it was big but not drastically bigger than usual, not 25% bigger. I had already mentally written the blog rant about their threats of a near ten pounder being complete nonsense once the baby had weighed in at 8lb 4! I was wondering where all these potential high risk stories in my notes were coming from.
From 7 to 8 I tried kneeling and using gas and air. After 8 I tried standing by the bed but didn't last too long. Thomas was wonderful as he was last time. Having had the girls with his support, I wonder now how I ever got through birth alone, as André was never present at the births claiming to be too squeamish to cope. I had no idea how much the support of a loved one can help get you through even the worst pain.
By 8-30 I was back on the bed and sitting, becoming less and less aware of my surroundings. I heard 'Shug' mention something about expecting the baby to arrive within the hour. I forced my eyes open and glanced at the clock: 8-45am. I could hear Hughie and Thomas chatting but I wasn't there any more, trying simply to breathe through each contraction. Hughie asked if she could break my waters as they hadn't gone naturally. I was beyond caring. She told me I was now 7cm dilated. She also asked if a student doctor could come in as he was sitting his finals soon - by that point in labour they could invite in the whole bus queue from outside the hospital - you really don't care!
As soon as she broke my waters dead on 9am, I needed to push, despite not being 10cm. Within 3 minutes her very big head was out. Unlike Anna though, she stopped at this point and didn't shoot past the midwife. Maybe she was slightly bigger than Anna (who had been 3.4kg/7lb8) but one more push and she was out all the same. My blog rant was reappearing in my head as I managed to give birth in just 5 hours without drugs to the baby who needed a caesarean 2 weeks earlier. They weighed her... 4.35kg/9lb10! Jesus! They were actually right! Shit! Would I have signed up to that drug-free had I known??? Probably, because I am a stubborn cow, but wow - I felt like superwoman!
As I came round, a young man, the medical student stood looking almost as gobsmacked as a first time dad - I hope he doesn't think that is the norm when it comes to childbirth! I was awake enough to watch Thomas cut the cord and hand me Baked, the still nameless child. For the next half hour the midwife tried to deliver the placenta which was proving much trickier than the baby and I was more than relieved when it finally came away. Baked was covered in meconium, which made me worry a bit, as I'd heard horror stories of babies inhaling meconium during birth but no one around me seemed to be panicking.
I went for my last bath in the post delivery bathroom in the QMH and felt vaguely sad knowing that no matter what the future holds, I will never be back there again and then joined Thomas in an attempt to finally whittle down the long-standing shortlist of names for the Baked Bean.

11-01-09, 11-01-10, 11-01-11?

It just occurred to me that on 11-01-09 Thomas asked me to marry him, and on 11-01-10 we had Amaia... I wonder what fun plans he has in store for me for 11-01-11!? I must keep it free just in case :-)

SPOOKILY UNCHANGED

I had a baby in the Queen Mum's on Monday. Of course, the press has been full of Queen Mum's stories all week because it was shutting down on Tuesday. Thomas spotted this story. Doesn't the setting looked eerily familiar despite the 46 year gap?

I had been ranting all last week about the QMH shutting and the possibility of being forced to hunt out the Southern General at a minute's notice while in labour, having never even visited anyone in that hospital, but now that the stress of last week is over, I have had time to reflect on why I wanted to make it to the QMH.

Obviously I had had all my kids there so I know the place inside out and many of the staff. I can find my way around in the dark! They had all my ante-natal notes, so of course it was sensible, but it was much more than that really.

Sentimentally, the QMH is the first memory I have in my life. I was taken up the green, buttercup-covered hill in a part of the city I didn't yet know but which was to become home 20 years later, one day in June 1971 carrying a toy lamb to visit my new baby brother. The weather was beautiful, the hill and flowers are so vivid, it could be yesterday. I remember the wards and beds. I remember being with my dad. In fact, ironically, the only two things I don't remember of that day are my mum and baby brother. I didn't want my first ever memory to shut down!

Then there are my own kids. I remember which room each one was born in and every minute of every labour. You don't want want those memories to shut down either.

After my first baby was born I joined the QMH breast-feeding group. We met every week, though none of us really needed the breast-feeding support, we all needed the moral support. I met Karen, Cynthia and Siobhan - friends for life... breast friends. We had more babies together, and more tea and cake. We've helped each other through the highs and lows of life ever since - all our divorces and new lives. That nostalgia was dying too with the QMH.

I realized after the dust of the last week's stress settled that what you need when you are having a baby is to feel at home because you are so vulnerable and the QMH to me was a kind of home - like a home-birth with all the trimmings - someone else to clean up and all the medical back-up you might need should your 10lb baby become stuck at birth. Even the revolting school dinners they served after you had the baby had a way of tasting acceptable in all their stodginess. My last meal there - of two wet beef burgers, heavy mash and over-boiled cabbage will live with me forever!

Shame on you whoever decided to close it :-( Now I will need to give serious consideration to calling a halt to my childbearing years!

And to celebrate the QMH years, here's a photo of Anna, who was born there and Amaia, one of the very last QMH babies leaving it together about 5 hours before they closed for good :-(

BINARY BABY?

I mentioned on facebook last week that the Maths nerd in me was secretly hoping for a New Year's day baby simply because of the binary date 1-01-10. Of course Ne'erday came and went and Baked didn't, and of course hanging around until the next binary date (10-01-10) was out of the question... or was it? Apparently not :-( Given tomorrow is also a binary date 11-01-10, I guess I have to pin all my hopes on that because I sure am not prepared to wait until 1-10-10!

OUTDOORS IN THE SNOW

I know I have ranted this till I'm blue in the face but I am still annoyed! I remember from my childhood that snow days in the playground were the highlight of the year... snowballs, slides, snowmen, freezing toes, teachers shouting at you to be sensible as you tried tobogganing down the school's front playground sitting on your schoolbag or a large textbook. I can still hear the squeals of joy, and the odd cry of a kid who'd hurt an arm or leg. Charlotte has just gone to bed moaning about how this weather is getting her down on school days. We've been back at school a week now and we haven't been allowed out once! she grumped. Council policy is to keep all primary kids indoors sitting on their seats during all breaks and lunchtimes when the playground isn't ice and snow-free in case they get sued when little Jack and Sophie fall over and sprain a wrist. Stop ruining our kids' lives with this Health and Safety shite and let them run about like we used to. Kids aren't meant to be glued to seats doing crosswords while the blue sky and snow beckon outside.

WHAT'S THE OBSESSION WITH FARMVILLE?

Maybe I am not one to judge, given I have never played it but I am seriously beginning to wonder about the kids' current obsession with Farmville on Facebook. At Hogmanay I had arranged to take them to their aunt and uncle overnight with all-night partying and the works. Already a sleepover there is their favourite thing so a New Year one is fun with bells (no pun intended) on.
Are you ready Marcel? I asked around 7pm. He looked vaguely panicked and exclaimed... But I have sixty-seven poinsettias to harvest at 10pm... oh, do you think Derek will lend me his computer for ten minutes?
Sixty-seven poinsettias???? You are a 12 year old boy, you shouldn't even know what a poinsettia is!
Then tonight, Charlotte burst in on me in the bath.
I've done something really stupid! she announced. Oh dear... What? I wondered... but before I could ask, she too was worrying herself silly that she had planted a batch of two-day crops at 3-10pm on Saturday and could I bring a charged laptop to the school gate tomorrow at 3pm when I pick her up and she'll try to run out by 3-09pm to harvest them.
Have they lost their marbles?

THE COLD 'SNAP'

I have an issue with the terminology being used all over the media now. Twice this morning I have heard the cold 'snap' mentioned - once on the politics show with Andrew Marr, once by the Prime Minister, the useless Mr Brown. To me, a snap is a very short period. When the snow and ice have been on the ground for a month, the term 'snap' is out of place and needs to be replaced by something more appropriate such as 'winter'' or 'period'', even if those sound less idiomatic in English.

MOVING HOUSE

Léon had an appointment at Yorkhill on Friday morning. Of course, I had printed out photos of his latest spot and eczema problems and typed up notes for my parents to take with them, while Thomas and I were in the Queen Mum's having Baked... Funnily enough, Baked had other ideas (this is becoming a leitmotif) so Thomas and I managed to take Léon ourselves :-(
Leaving Yorkhill, we passed the Queen Mum's of course and had difficulty negotiating all the removal lorries parked outside, being filled with beds and chairs! This is becoming a nightmare. The hospital is now shutting in two days and is seemingly stripped of all furniture and Baked is still cosy inside. My last baby, when she decided to show up, only gave me a couple of hours to get to hospital, which was hard enough without icy snow, going to the hospital I know well. This time in labour (if we ever get there) we'll be scraping the car for half an hour and then trundling around the South Side to find a maternity unit we've never even visited, finding its car park and admissions department (assuming I can find their phone number). I guess we need to go on an expedition this afternoon to familiarize ourselves with the area despite the weather and advice not to go out driving unless necessary.
Obviously if I had had any inkling Baked would be late, I would have registered at the other hospital originally. It seemed sensible to book in to the hospital that holds all my gynecological notes, rather than hoping they'd be transferred during my pregnancy. Another friend who is having a baby at the new place has just waited nearly 5 months for her notes from a different Glasgow hospital to arrive on site! Ironically, I now find myself in a situation where my notes are stamped with all sorts of special indications including their worries about Baked's size, recommended caesareans, Anna's quick delivery, my age and rhesus status etc and the Queen Mum's will box them up for sending at some point on Tuesday when they close, and send them with everything else from the hospital. I don't reckon the chances of them having them are high from Wednesday :-( And believe me, at 10cm dilated with a 4.5 or 5kg baby you are in no fit state to sit down and fill them in on your gyno and previous delivery history for an hour during labour.
This is turning into a real trial for the nerves and I'm usually a calm person!