Implanon.

Tomorrow, I have an appointment to have a contraceptive implant inserted under the skin of my arm. For the ludicrous price of $36, I have 3 years of contraception guaranteed ahead of me. While it does what it needs to do, I can basically forget about it. Compared to taking a pill every day, this isn't bad.

Of course, the implant can be removed at any time, rendering me fertile again more or less instantly. While we are in no rush, the doctor did ask when we might want to try for another baby and I guess we had to answer something, as vague and abstract as it might seem right now.

Before actually having a baby, Chris and I were able to discuss this topic in fairly pragmatic terms. A close age gap would let me get back into a fuller career sooner while a bigger age difference might allow us to save a little money in between before starting all over again.

Enter Hugo and the general direction of our discussions is about as predictable as our little boy himself, ranging from "one is more than enough" to "let's move to the country and keep having babies".

I'll never forget the moment when, still in the birthing suite and as I came back to my senses, I could suddenly hear the groans and screams of other labouring women in adjacent rooms. Chris had heard them all along but I hadn't and in that moment, after a quick but intense labour, I thought to myself and out loud that I didn't think I could ever do it again. I sort of knew that I would but I just wasn't sure that I could.

The next most distinctive moment along this particular journey came when not one or two but three friends announced their pregnancies. While I was genuinely excited for them, a little voice inside me yelled: "Noooooo! what have you doooone???!!!!"

By that stage, Hugo was only a couple months old and as happy as I was, I was also more tired than I had ever been. I still found the whole experience deeply overwhelming and the prospect of the months and years ahead of us very daunting. It all seemed like a very very long tunnel which one should only enter when they are absolutely sure of themselves. But of course, can anyone ever be?

And then, somehow things have started to change. My friends' bumps are growing and I find myself feeling sentimental, if not nostalgic of the blessed feeling one gets from carrying and growing a life inside, the constant and private companionship, those first flutters which will soon enough become strong and visible kicks underneath the surface of a perfectly distended belly.

As this nostalgia for pregnancy takes me by surprise from time to time, I am also becoming increasingly aware of how fleeting all of this is. Hugo is five months old now and while I delight in the fact that he does something new every day, I also feel a little pinch in my heart for all the things he has already put in the past. For every thing he does for the very first time, there is something he does for the very last time. How is it even possible to think there was a time when he was even younger than he is now?

And so, as the fog of these early months seems to lift and I can already start to feel a yearning for the very beginning, Chris and I are back to discussing options in pragmatic terms. It is still abstract and distant but the raised little rod under my skin shall be a tangible reminder of decisions to come. 

On going back to work - the first of many.

This is the first post where I really mention the topic of going back to work but I am sure it won't be the last. I have so many thoughts on this subject, I don't even know where to start so I'll start with this...

How do you 'go' back to work when you have no where to actually go?

Before having Hugo, I would 'get' to work by inventing a morning routine and a commute which involved getting up, showered and dressed with Chris and, when Chris left for work on his bike, I would walk down to Darby Street, get a coffee and then walk back home to start my day of work. The challenge was to go straight to my desk rather than to the pile of laundry staring at me.

These days, I have a lot more than a pile of laundry staring back... I have a very little, very cute and very demanding little person who can keep himself happily entertained for about 2 minutes at a time. If studiously sitting behind my desk used to be a challenge of discipline, it has now become a distant fantasy. You don't know what you got 'til it's gone, right?

Over the last few weeks, my two main freelance jobs from last year have recontacted me to start doing some work again and while this is exciting, it is also very daunting. If I can barely find the time to cut my nails, when will I fit 6, 10 or 15 hours of work a week?

The problem isn't really the time itself but rather the totally unpredictable nature of Hugo's schedule. Hugo doesn't really have a routine yet although maybe we are getting closer to one but never knowing when or how long Hugo might be asleep for makes it very challenging to plan work in the middle of it all. It also puts a lot more pressure on Hugo to be 'convenient' and fall asleep when I need him to. This is both unrealistic and stressful for both of us.

At the moment, my best time is over the week-ends especially since Chris' hours got cut back. Now, I just need my clients to realise that I am not on call, all day, everyday... In many ways, this is the most challenging part and setting boundaries has become crucial.

Overall though, I am completely aware of the fact that this is the situation I chose when I decided to start freelancing rather than having a steady full-time job. Therefore, I am resisting the urge to envy those who can leave the house and 'go' to work. Instead, I just need to seize the moments when I can 'get' to work and enjoy the blessing of being able to spend as much time as I want looking after my little boy. 

When strangers and friends lend a helping hand.

I'm getting two kinds of help today. One is practical and the other theoretical and while I am enjoying the former right now, I hope the latter will bear fruit...

As I write, my friend Paula who is 22 weeks pregnant has taken Hugo for a walk giving me a little bit of time off. It's a wonderful gesture and I only wish I knew how to make the most of this precious hour. I should nap but instead, all I want to do is tidy up the house. As a compromise, I decided to write a blog entry. My rule for 'me-time' being that I should at least use this time to do something that is just too hard to do when Hugo is awake but I find that with an imminent return, I am not able to switch off enough to sleep. Still, I am putting the laundry, cooking and folding on hold and enjoying this moment.

The other help I sought out today was through a phone conversation with a nurse from Tresillian, an Australian association which specialises in baby sleep. Amongst other things, they run sleep clinics where mothers and babies can come to learn how to sleep. Some parents who are in favour of 'gentle' parenting find them a little hard lined but it doesn't hurt to hear what they have to say.

The reason I called was because for the last few days, Hugo has been waking up only once during the night but unfortunately, he then stays awake for as long as two hours and rarely less than one and a half hours. At 2am, this is quite difficult to cope with. The nurse made some suggestions which we will try and follow although they will no doubt involve quite a bit of crying... We'll try and give it a good week and if we see no improvements, we'll have to assume we need to go down a different route or try again in a few weeks. She also made some recommendations to make nap time a little easier on all of us. We shall see...

And just for fun, I am adding this series of photos for the sole reason that they are adorable.

5 months: where did the time go?

5 months family portrait

This month flew by at a speed I can barely fathom. Where did the time go?

At the start of the month, Hugo had a very important visitor. His Grandfather came to stay with us for a couple of weeks. We all had a lovely time. My dad and Hugo spent some good quality time together, going on walks along the beach or to the supermarkets where they both quickly became very popular amongst the salesgirls and I had a chance to spend some glorious hours by myself.

Time alone is becoming something I am getting a little bit used to since Chris' hours at work got cut back a little due to a sluggish economy and not enough work in the office for everyone to be kept busy. Although it's not ideal from a financial point of view, we were quick to see the positive sides. Chris is able to spend more time with us and on his own with Hugo which, in turn, allows me to make up a part of the shortfall with the work I have started do again.

In other news, Hugo continues to charm the ladies,

Aloof with Lian

inquisitive with A-Caz

And funny with Maya and Vanessa

And we just can't get enough of that photobooth!

Meanwhile, winter in Newcastle continues to be absolutely stunning and impossibly mild with most days in the twenties. I usually lament the fact that I only ever get to wear my winter coat a handful of times but this year, I am barely even wearing jumpers, let alone jackets. It looks like my beautiful leather gloves will have to wait until Christmas in Nice as well!

Putting his newborn days very much in the past, Hugo is becoming very active. His quick little hands are constantly grabbing at everything: toys, hair, faces, necks etc... He also loves to suck on his toes at every opportunity and spends most of his time in the bath with a foot in his mouth. He also seems to be getting sort of close to being able to roll over on his own. A few days ago, he grabbed Chris' hand and pulled himself over.

Lately, he has also started laughing. Not just smiling and making little sounds but real bursts of laughter. It is adorable and quite addictive, although it can be hard to predict. It seems that it happens most often when something surprising happens like if I suddenly take a toy away or if I start talking to him.

Hugo's napping is still a bit of a challenge but we are finding ways to deal with it without spending the entire days stuck in a loop of trying to make him fall asleep. I suppose I am getting used to this particular aspect being more difficult than most other things with Hugo. Some days, it gets me down but I am usually able to remain clear headed and optimistic if I've had a little bit of precious sleep. The Odyssey continues...

A message in a bottle.

Once in a while I send a message in a metaphorical bottle out to sea hoping that someone will catch it, and usually someone does.

I am lucky to have found/created a network of like-minded friends in both the physical and the online worlds which has been an invaluable source of support and given me a sense of belonging to a strong community. It feels good to know we're all in this - life, parenthood - together.

If, as they say, it takes a village to raise a child, then my village spans across hemispheres and continents, as well as across the time zones of my life. I have connected and reconnected with new and old friends. Some have babies of the same age as Hugo and we support each other as we stumble through the same stages,while others are a few months or years ahead and offer some much needed perspective.

In my physical life, I have found a small core group of friends I love and which I can organise my week around. On an ideal week, I am able to have a social engagement most days, whether it is a walk by the ocean, a coffee on Darby St. or an afternoon tea at home. Pretty simple stuff but this is what I love the most - afternoons chatting away as the sun drops towards the horizon.

Online, I enjoy the surprises of who and how people will respond. Yesterday, I posted a status update on Facebook about feeling a bit down and was cheered up by heartfelt messages of support. A friend brought me a coffee which we enjoyed by the beach. Another sent me an image of a garden inside a bottle. Another yet wished she was there to have a playground chat or take Hugo for a walk while another friend made sure I came to yoga this morning.

All these attentions, big and small, close or far, help me take a deep breath when I need it and they are the difference between being alone and feeling lonely. Luckily for me, I am neither.

"It's not you, it's him."

They're the words written to me by my very dear friend Rose when she had noticed that I seemed to be struggling on the napping front with Hugo and was blaming myself for it.

Of course, when I am perfectly rational, I do realise that if Hugo isn't sleepy, I can rock him 'til the cows come home and he still won't fall asleep but I can't help it.

I guess that I see myself as his surrogate. For him to be calm, I need to be calm. For him to be happy, I need to be happy and for him to be sleepy, I need to be ... uh, no that one doesn't actually work but you get the idea.

For the last couple of days, Hugo has been a little bit different to his normal self. He has been cranky and difficult to feed. He jerks away when I try to feed him and starts crying even though he'll still greedily suck on my hand or a toy. Maybe he's teething, maybe he is catching some sort of cold or maybe he's just not that hungry...

The thing is, I don't know and so instead, I blame myself. If he doesn't want to eat, then there must be something wrong with my milk. Maybe my supply is low or my milk tastes funny. Maybe I hold him the wrong way or try to feed him at the wrong time...

It isn't the first time he has done this and each time, it has eventually passed and he has soon enough gone back to his normal, hungry, cheery self... meanwhile, I'll just keep reminding myself that it's not me, it's him and not in a break-up kind of way but rather that he is a person who experiences the world and his body a little differently each day. All I can do is set the scene for it to be as enjoyable as possible. 

Illumination and routine.

Yesterday I went for a walk with Hugo. As he often does, he fell asleep on me in the carrier. When this happens, I usually try and walk around for a while, making sure he gets at least 45 minutes to sleep soundly. I know that if I tried to transfer him from the carrier to anything else, he would wake up so it's only fair to him.

On my walk, I decided to pop into the Newcastle Art Gallery to catch the current exhibition before it closes on Sunday and wow, am I glad I went. Illumination the art of Phillip Wolfhagen left me breathless and awed. I only wished I was able to sit down and contemplate but I had to keep moving.

Luminous is the word that comes to mind. Wolfhagen's almost abstract landscape paintings capture a quality of light reminiscent of Turner. Low horizon lines freeing most of the canvas for luminous clouds and skies over half-lit landscapes or turbulent seas.

One of my favourite works was a series of long vertical panels with a dark mass in the bottom of the canvas and the rest taken up by the sky. The work, titled, The First Five Days of April, shows the transformation through light of a single landscape, same but different each day.

I have always felt this way about living by the sea or the ocean and figure that this is why a 'view' of the ocean is such a prized commodity. A living painting, always framed the same way but different from one moment to the next, somehow always surprising, never boring.

Maybe the work of Phillip Wolfhang resonates especially loudly at the moment because this kind of variation on a theme type of routine has also become an integral part of my life with Hugo. Every day is 'same same but different', and definitely always surprising.

Apparently babies thrive on routine, and I would extend this to adults. However, my life as a parent is to try and maintain that routine for Hugo, while he catches me off balance at every turn. One day, a nap maestro (Rose) and the next, full of beans until he hits a wall of tiredness. One day calm and smily, the next a grizzly ball of dissatisfaction.

One day, the ocean is as flat as a lake and the next, it is turbulent and gusty... It's still the same ocean and it's still beautiful. It's just really unpredictable and it is this sense of the unexpected that I must embrace to thrive.

Dreaming of a bucolic life.

Typically, I would describe myself as a city girl. I have grown up in a city and it is where I have always thought I felt most at ease. In Australia, I have even become a little militant about arguing the benefits of growing up surrounded by concrete as a suitable alternative to grass, although I will admit I remain in a definite minority, even at home...

Lately though... something is changing and I find myself day dreaming about a life in the countryside. I see myself walking in some sort of field with 3 little boys running around me, walking ahead and behind, picking up leaves and pointing at trees. I then see us holding hands as we take our gumboots off and walk back inside. We might draw the leaves we have just picked up off the ground or have a hot chocolate in our light filled kitchen.

I also imagine Chris working away in his shed, with light streaming through a side window and wood shavings flying around him, dancing in the light and getting caught in his hair. I imagine light, space and silence. Just the sounds of nature around us and fields to run across.

I imagine that Chris and I work together, and that creativity - writing, design, photography, making - is at the heart of our life together. I imagine our children working away on some tiny projects alongside us. That they are not scared of using their brains or their hands, that they embrace their mistakes and keep going, towards their own self expression.

I don't exactly know what this means but Chris has just buried two grandparents in as many weeks and if there is one thing death is good for, it's to make us think about our own lives. Chris wrote a eulogy which he read at his grandfather's funeral and it reminded me of an exercise I had heard of to help people gain some perspective on their life. The exercise is in two parts. The first one is to write one's own eulogy based on one's current life. The second part is to write one's own ideal eulogy, based on the life one would actually want to be remembered for.

This vision isn't my eulogy and as lovely as it sounds, I don't think that this will be our life either but at the core is a strong desire to be there for our children, for Chris and me to work as a team in life and work and for creativity to be at the centre of it all. Beyond that, light, space and silence would be wonderful too!