This year has been pretty shit. We don’t have the horrific death toll from Covid-19 that other countries have, but we still spent what felt like years in lockdown (decades, if you’re Victorian) Businesses closed and some haven’t and won’t open their doors again. Unemployment is huge, the economy has taken a massive hit and we’re still living under a cloud of anxiety. It’s not exactly a recipe for fun times, is it?
Stay home, keep 1.5 metres from people of you do go out, avoid public transport if you can, try to work from home…
It’s a weird time full of fear and anxiety and FEELINGS and also BOREDOM. Are you feeling that way? I’m gonna go through some of my feelings, particularly about social distance and what we should do. It might help me sort them out. It might help you sort yours out. Or maybe you’ll offer me some brilliant insight in the comments. Or I will shed some light for you, who knows? I’m just gonna tip my brain contents out on the table and sort into piles, so to speak.
Some stories hit the news and never really leave our collective memories. There are many, but a couple of names will always make my heart clench whenever I read them. Those names are Dana McCaffrey and Riley Hughes. Both babies were only a few weeks old when they died, several years apart, as a result of contracting whooping cough (pertussis). If their names bring a tear to my eye, I can only imagine what it would be like to have carried them, birthed them, held them in my arms and loved them.
Babies under 6 months old are at the highest risk from whooping cough. They are too young to be fully vaccinated against it and make up the majority of pertussis-related hospital admissions. Approximately 1 in 200 babies who contract it will die due to brain damage or pneumonia associated with the disease.
After the birth of my youngest, my back was a bit of a mess. It was after my first baby, too, but the second one really took the biscuit. I had trouble with it early on in the pregnancy, with ligament pain. It escalated from there. By the time I hit the 41 week mark, I was in real trouble with pelvic girdle problems that meant even getting out of bed was a nightmare.
During check ups, my midwives told my my baby was posterior, meaning facing the front. “Sunny-side up” was how my eldest presented too, and I knew what that meant- hideous back labour. One of the worst things I’ve ever felt, personally.