Happy Birthday Mama and Dadda

It's Henry's birthday tomorrow. That means that at this exact time last year I was in a hospital room in pain. Extreme amounts of pain. More pain than I had been when I was in labour with Maya. My waters had not yet broken but the contractions were thick and fast. My patient midwife was with us checking all my vitals, making sure Henry was still coping well and generally trying to keep us calm.

There's an expectation and anticipation associated with birth that is not matched by any other experience in life. That feeling of knowing that soon you will bring a new life into the world, if the pain doesn't kill you, is way better than the most exhilarating ride at the Ekka. You grit your teeth and hope that it's not going to take longer than 5 minutes. That your baby will effortlessly make its way into the world without you having to exert yourself. You imagine it as being just like in the movies; you might grunt and scream and curse and punch your husband in the privates but with just a few small pushes you've managed to create a family. Everyone cries, the doctor hugs you, your husband kisses your forehead and says "thank you" and the room is instantly filled with scented bouquets.

Henry was born on the Ekka holiday two years ago. We had no doctor, no scented bouquets and I did not kick my husband in the privates. Despite the long, intense and very painful labour we had a very emotional experience. Giving birth is sometimes very cliched but all those cliches are based on fact. To see the child you've spent nine months growing for the first time is like nothing else on this earth. Introducing yourself to him as his parents is a little like a job application as a top ranking official only you know it's a lifelong commitment and comes without the pay cheque.

Here we are two years later. We have two precious children who love to irritate each other and us but we wouldn't trade that for all the Hershey bars in the world.