My home birth.

Wednesday 9th, August 2017.
As I get up from the couch to relieve myself -again- I hear a muffled sound followed by a gush of water running down my legs.
- Honey, I think my water just broke.
We are both ecstatic. I rush to the bathroom, a big smile on my face. Time to finally meet that little bundle of joy. It's past 9 P.M. so we give a quick call to our midwife to let her know the big news. She advises me to get to bed right away and rest before labor actually starts. I'm gonna need my strength, she says. At that time, I didn't understand how accurate she was as I felt pretty pumped by the idea of meeting my son for the first time.

Thursday 10th, August 2017.
I was able to get a bit of sleep, but not much. I'm way too excited and anxious to sleep. Plus, water keeps coming by gush and I had to change sheets twice as the pee-pee pads were not successful in containing all that water. Still, no sign of serious contractions. Little did I know it was only the beginning of a long waiting game.
12 P.M. // The midwife calls to see if there is any progress. But nothing has change. Still no sign of serious contractions. She advises me, again, to rest as much as possible and get hydrated. I -among other things- eat spicy food in hope to start labor. No luck. That baby isn't really ready to make his entrance yet. I can't find sleep and am getting nervous.
9 P.M. // 24 hours after my water broke, still no progress. My midwife recommends the take of a special smoothie made with castor oil to trigger labor. Hubby prepares the -not-so-yummy- smoothie while I roll on my yoga ball.
12 A.M. // I'm down to my second smoothie, now feeling impatient and very tired. Hubby is, lucky for him, asleep by my side.

Friday 11th, August 2017.
1 A.M. // I wake up with a strong contraction. Things are starting to move. Finally.
3 A.M. // Hubby calls the midwife -unfortunately, a back-up one- who makes her way to my house for a check up. I'm only 2 cm dilated. Darn ! I am exhausted, in pain, and desperate to make things move faster. Again, I'm advised to get some rest and to call again if contractions are getting closer apart. Easier said than done !
5 A.M. // I'm beyond exhausted and the pain is getting difficult to take in. I'm losing control and decide I want to go to the hospital. I want the pain gone. I don't feel I can do it anymore on my own. I'm sobbing while hubby calls the midwife to let her know of my late decision. Minutes later, the midwife -my secondary and French speaking one- gets here and announces I'm 5 cm dilated. She tells me things seem to be moving along quite well and asks me if I'm a 100% positive I want to go to the hospital. Totally up to me, she says, but she is positive I can make it on my own. We discuss my options -hospital, birth centre or home- and I decide to get in the shower before making up my mind. In the end, I will stay at home.
9 A.M. // I'm 8 cm dilated. It feels like a small victory. I am so tired I doze off in between contractions. Contractions keep getting stronger and closer apart. I start to feel the need to push but it is too soon yet. I'm crying, panicking I will never make it. Thankfully, hubby is very supportive and has my back. I am so grateful for him I keep hugging him very tight anytime a contraction shows up. He may not realize it but he is my rock.
11:30 A.M. // I'm finally fully dilated. I move from the couch to the birth stool in order to start pushing my baby out. At that point, I'm TOTALLY freaked out. From here, there is no going back: I will need to push that baby out on my own.
12:31 P.M. // I'm holding my baby in my arms, tears of joy running down my cheeks, a look of beatitude and shock on my face. I did it ! More than 24 hours after my water broke, I became a mummy. This had to be one of the most precious moments of my life. 

A new beginning.

Now in my last stretch of this first pregnancy (36+2), my brain has been wandering around upon one single statement: I MISS TRAVELING. And it is not an overstatement. Traveling is in my mind 24/7. Always has. And the events of this past year do not change a thing.

Luckily for me, I met and married a man who shares most of my lifestyle ideas. And the fact we are about to have a kid diminishes NOT our thirst for travel, on the contrary. We want to give our child -and ourselves- the chance to discover the world. Not through books and movies, but through our own eyes.

We want to call the world our home.

This blog might be about to take a new direction... stay tuned !

P2. Memories.

Je me souviens parfaitement de cet instant où je courais après le temps dans l'espoir d'attraper une bribe de la beauté de la nature. Nous étions en retard sur notre itinéraire et tu croyais mon effort impossible. Mon genoux gauche me faisait un mal de chien, mais je continuais d'avancer en serrant les dents.

Plomb du cantal, 1855 mètres d'altitude.

Dans mon avancée, je continuais de jeter un regard furtif par dessus mon épaule. Tu n'étais pas bien loin de moi, mais je ne pouvais me permettre de t'attendre. Le soleil, lui, ne m'attendait pas pour continuer sa descente vertigineuse. Bientôt, le noir total nous envahirait et nos pas se feraient incertains.

8:39 P.M.

J'atteignais enfin le point culminant du mont. Lorsque tu me rejoignis quelques minutes plus tard, mes poumons étaient encore en grève, mais mon sourire en disait long sur mon indifférence face à la douleur. J'avais atteint le sommet juste à temps pour voir le soleil se coucher derrière les montagnes. Le spectacle était magnifique, tel que mes yeux furent incapables de suivre le rythme sans en verser une larme.
Nous restèrent là un moment, à profiter de ce moment privilégié. Puis le bon sens a eu raison de nous et nous avons commencé notre descente vers le village afin de pouvoir planter notre tente avant d'en être physiquement et mentalement incapable.


Ces précieux rendez-vous avec la nature me manquent.

P1. Inepties.

Dans l'abysse de ma mémoire défaillante et de mon coeur atrophié gisent des milliers de souvenirs au goût amer. Les mots s'emballent en mon fort intérieur, mais mes lèvres restent muettes. Incapable de les laisser chatouiller mon larynx, mes mains prennent le relai et glissent sur le clavier. Ma respiration se paire au rythme du cliquetis qu'ils provoquent.

La fluidité m'échappe, et la peur m'envahit.

Mes paupières tombent le rideau et je cherche désespérément l'interrupteur. Aussi délicatement que possible, mes doigts fouillent les réminiscences d'un passé à la recherche de la perle rare. Et puis, la paralysie s'invite au voyage. Le silence se fait de marbre. La lourdeur de mes bras engendre celle des mots. Je trébuche inlassablement sur des fils tendus qui n'existent que dans mon imagination. La pièce est plongée dans le noir et mes yeux, qui ont perdu tout repère, ne peuvent plus rien pour moi. Les couleurs s'évaporent à la vitesse du temps qui s'égraine. J'attrape au vol, dans une tentative désespérée, quelques poussières nouvelles. Emprisonnées en ma paume, je n'ose les regarder. Lentement, mes phalanges se déplient pour les laisser s'envoler. À la dernière minute, j'ouvre les yeux dans l'espoir de les voir, telles des lucioles, briller.

Le ciel est gris et de fines gouttes de pluie se mettent à tomber sur le feu à demi ravivé. Le sommeil aura malheureusement, cette fois encore, gagné.