5 Things to Do Before You Become a Parent

 I have three children aged nine, six and four. I know what I am talking about when I say there are things you should do before you become parents. Five things to be exact.

1. SLEEP

Seriously, I wish someone had told me how much sleep you lose during the first decade of a child's life and particularly during that first year after becoming a mother. Mind you, had I known then what I know now I might have slept through my entire 20s and missed that decade.

They sleep, but not for long.

Sleep when you can, lie in on a weekend, spend lazy Sunday mornings (to hell with it, and afternoons) eating breakfast in bed and, reading great books and watching fabulous movies. By the time your days are filled with nappies, milk feeds and rocking a baby sleep is a distant memory.

2. TRAVEL

You don't travel light with a baby or toddler in tow. In fact, if you've got any sanity left you just won't bother travelling at all.

Entertaining a hungry, cranky, bored toddler waiting for an overdue flight in a busy holiday shouldn't be on any sane person's wish list. And long haul flights? Baahahhaaa. It's why the local motorways are blocked up in the summer holidays with cars filled with car seats and little people, and every possible item you could never imagine you needed before you became parents packed in every other spare centimetre of car space.

So, before you have a baby go see the world, spread your wings and enjoy what the world has to offer - it will be a decade or more before that idea becomes fun again.

Trust your instinct and ditch the parenting books

3. DITCH THE PARENTING BOOKS
Once you know you'll imminently become a parent there is an urge to run out and buy, borrow or read every parenting book you can get your hands on. Don't.

One thing the books can't teach you is this: trust your instinct. A mother's instinct is the most powerful tool at your disposal. Once you are a parent, you can better understand your own parenting style and then seek out reading material as an aide, or other people with the same parenting philosophy. Reading every book or article with the word parent in the title before that time will only confuse, upset and mystify you. There is conflicting advice everywhere you look so let your instinct guide you in the right direction.

4. READ

I know, I just said ditch the parenting books but I'm talking about other reading material, the reading that you have always wanted to do. Now is the time to grab those classics on your reading bucket list. Now is the time to make the most of your favourite magazine subscription. Sign up at your local library and make your library card work for you.

Enjoy the peace, quiet and time that you have before a baby arrives. Trust me, you won't pick up another non-parenting book until long after your baby has turned one.

5. PREPARE FOR A LIFETIME OF CHANGE

Life will never be the same again.

That is easy for me to say of course, I have three children. I know the before children and the after kids life very well indeed but before you actually have a baby it's hard to imagine all the ways life will change but, let me assure you,  nothing in your life post kids will ever be the same again.

Your living room turns into one giant play room. There are potties and toilet training seats filling bathrooms and the downstairs loo. Your dining room floor always looks as if a food fight has just taken place (and usually it has, just not in the same way as during those fun student days). Your garden is filled with plastic houses, slides and balls and the beautiful flowers you plant last one hour after they have bloomed before they are plucked by chubby little hands.

But the biggest change of all is not inside your house. It's inside you. From the moment you become a parent your heart is filled with unconditional love. You will have no idea where this love comes from but it is all consuming. You are no longer responsible for just one person on this planet, and that feeling is overwhelming. Welcome to parenthood. Life will never be the same again.

Life will be better. So much better. Even without sleeping and travelling and reading, without peace and quiet and even though your home no longer feels like a sanctuary, life will be better. Because you have a little hand to hold, a little person to lead through life. Because you are somebody's mama.

What would you add to the list? What should you do before you become parents? 


 If you want to read more about parenting abroad head over to support Knocked Up Abroad on Kickstarter and buy a pre-release copy of the book!

That's Not Branston Pickle: The Dangers of Sandwich Making and Motherhood

The dangers of motherhood and sandwich making
Photo Credit: Pedro Simao

As a result of my blog post about all the things I never dreamed I would say before I became a parent I was reminded of a Branston pickle incident many years ago that I think I'm finally ready to share.

Picture the scene. My kitchen, just over seven years ago. My eldest son was just a few months old. He was a mere baby. Our little family comprised then only of the three of us. I was a new parent and I was sleep deprived. Bewildered. Operating on auto pilot. And I was making sandwiches for a long road trip we were about to make.

To be more precise, I was making cheese and Branston pickle sandwiches whilst my baby son lay in the play pen. Screaming. Screaming like he was being savagely attacked by rabid dogs. So I picked him up, gave him a cuddle and he stopped crying. I continued to make sandwiches with my one free hand, baby nestled in my other arm.

Drawing to the end of the 'tricky with one hand' sandwich packing process my husband took our son from me and I noticed I had pickle on my non-sandwich making arm. Strange, how on earth did that get there I wondered. So I licked it off my arm. It didn't taste much like pickle. I wrapped the last sandwich in cling film and cleared away.

"Ohhhhhhhhhh!" cried out my husband suddenly. "Nappy explosion!"

"Gadverdamme," I uttered. "That wasn't Branson pickle on my arm."

I know I'm not alone - go ahead, feel free to share your gross poop stories with us........

Kirstie Allsopp and When to Have a Baby: Mission Completed

Kirstie Allsopp (a British TV presenter) has whipped up quite the storm in a tea cup with her comments urging women to get themselves settled in the family way before opting for a higher education. She states that many women end up with fertility issues because they are going to university and getting their career on track before thinking about babies. By the time they opt for motherhood their biological clock is no longer on their side.

Doing things the other way around, in her opinion, would be a better tactic. First a family and then university in your 40s or beyond. She's not saying don't get educated, just that there are other ways of doing it without sacrificing a family life and facing problems in your 30s getting pregnant.

She's had her fair share of negative press over her comments (headlines for the sake of headlines in many cases), as well as those who say she absolutely has a point. Whatever you think when you read her interview she has achieved something incredibly positive - a debate. She has people talking about fertility issues and age, discussing the right time to have a family.

And I think she has a valid opinion. There is no arguing against the medical facts; maternal health risks increase as a woman ages, not just for a mother to be, but for her baby too. Getting pregnant gets harder too.

I was 33 when I became pregnant the first time. The nuchal scan done at that time showed a minimal risk of having a baby with a chromosomal condition such as Down Syndrome. By the time those same tests were done during my third pregnancy when I was 38 the results produced a shockingly much higher risk ratio. In the space of those five years there was a huge, dramatic change.

And once I had a newborn at home for the third time it was also obvious that those five years made all the difference. In fact, the eighteen months that had passed since my second son was born already made a marked difference. I was much more tired; sleep deprivation had a huge effect on my own health. Being a new mother just got tougher as I got older. That's nature. That's a fact.

However, my personal circumstances were never such that I considered having a baby in my 20s. I met my now-husband when I was 27, not far from 28. I'd known him all of nine months when I moved to the Netherlands. That just wasn't the time to start a family. I found a job. We found a small house, one foot on the property ladder. We talked about children but we wanted to be more settled. We wanted a bigger house first, space for a family. We wanted our finances to be more secure. We didn't want to be worried about every euro and cent providing for our family.

In 2005 my partner and I went on a road trip across part of the western side of the United States. That was the result of a conscious decision to make a trip that we wouldn't necessarily do with children. At least not young children. That was a last blast, go with the flow holiday before consciously trying for a family. By May the following year we were expecting our first son.

And that is our story. And every single couple on this planet has their own story. We were ready in 2005 to commit to having a family. Once we felt we were in a good position financially, emotionally and physically to start a family. Others make less conscious decisions. Some couples become parents when they least expect it. Some couples have struggles to become parents that they could have never have imagined. It is always a personal journey into parenthood.

Do I wish we had started a family whilst we were a little younger? Sometimes yes. But at the end of the day I have three healthy little boys and I feel that I have more to offer them now as a mother than I would have done in my 20s when I was hardly more than a kid myself.

My parents were more than a decade younger than us when they became parents. My mum said once that she felt that she hadn't had a real youth - she was raising two children instead of going out and doing the things that a 20 year old does. Their reasons for having children young were very different and less conscious than our decision to wait until we were in our 30s. Their story is very different to ours. But our two different stories beg the question: is there ever a perfect time to enter parenthood? There are sacrifices whatever the age. There are pros and cons, whatever the age.

And that is just the point. Every story is different. Every couple is different. At the end of the day, whether you are a teenager, or in your 20s, 30s or 40s when you make that decision to have a baby, in whatever circumstances that may happen, you work with what you have. You take each step at a time and you grow as a person, and hopefully as a parent. But. There is a but. That but is that fertility decreases as we get older.

What Kirstie Allsopp has achieved is discussion, some of it less respectful than it could be, but she is right that the issues that women face when they decide to have a baby in their 30s or beyond should be talked about. Reality should be a topic of conversation. Women want it all and sometimes Mother Nature calls us out on that - the biological clock is a real thing and it is not something that a student in her early 20s even contemplates whilst enjoying cheap pints in the student union bar (I speak from experience). Perhaps now, thanks to Kirstie, she will.

Home Births: Let Pregnant Women Decide

 One of the things I loved about being pregnant in the Netherlands was the fact that I was not treated like I had a medical condition. I went to the hospital during my first pregnancy only for scans (and in subsequent pregnancies even these were done in the midwife practice) a blood test in the first trimester and a rush visit in the last trimester when my baby's heartbeat was deemed to be too fast by my midwife.

The rest of the time I saw only a group of midwives in their practice. Hospitals, as great as they are when you actually need them, are not places I need to spend a lot of time in.

What I also loved was the fact that I could make a considered judgement about where I wanted to give birth. I had the option of a home or a hospital birth. If I had been pregnant in England I am 99% sure a home birth would not have even been a topic of conversation.

In the UK only 2.4% of births happen at home compared to nearly 20% in the Netherlands. The cost of a hospital birth in the Netherlands is only fully covered by medical insurance if there is a medical reason for it. Plus the Dutch first line care (midwives) advocate natural births. At least in 2006, they certainly did.

I'm an expat, and the first thing that crossed my mind was how culturally different a birth in the UK was (or in the US for that matter), where all my friends seemed to be talking about epidurals and gas and air. However, I decided that if I could, I would opt for a home birth. What could be more comfortable than not having to pack up a case and head off to an unknown, sterile environment surrounded by strange faces to give birth?

But when it came down to it I had to go to hospital. There was meconium in the embryonic fluid and I had no choice. The midwife was with me at home, and made it clear that we had to transfer as quickly as we could to the hospital. No panic, no stress, just matter of factly, "Let's move it".

I was devastated. I hadn't prepared myself for Plan B. Everything was ready for a home birth, not a hospital birth (it turned out that I seemed to have absentmindedly forgotten to complete the packing of my hospital case).

A typical delivery suite at a Dutch hospital
(ball not included!)

The details of the birth I will save for a rainy day (or a book) but suffice to say that because the maternity ward was working at maximum capacity and there was not enough staff to attend to all the women in labour as it was needed I had a difficult, stressful delivery. No woman should have to go through a traumatic labour and birth because of staff shortages. My husband and I were left alone for large chunks of time in the delivery room - feeling helpless, clueless and upset. My baby also became distressed.

So no one will ever convince me that a hospital room is always the best place for a woman to give birth, because it is safer, because of 'just in case', that it should be the first choice of every woman, regardless of situation.

A doula and a whole lot of personal experience made the difference for me the second and third births around - also in a hospital.

And so to last week. Dutch News.nl translated an article that appeared in De Volkskrant on 29 April (if you can read Dutch be sure to read the original article, and particularly the comments it evoked - including from gynaecologists themselves) called "Home Births: Let the Gynaecologists Decide".  In the article the two authors (Kenneth Watson and Rob Kottenhagen) are advocating that gynaecologists should decide whether women can safely give birth at home or not. It's an opinion piece. And this in turn is my opinion piece about the article.

The first line already riled me; translated from the original article, the piece starts like this.

"It is irresponsible to keep home births as the cornerstone of midwifery care."

And it riles me because just over 80% of women in the Netherlands give birth in the hospital. The cornerstone of midwifery care is not home birth.

It goes on to state,

"The German poet Heinrich Heine once said that if the end of the world came he would go to the Netherlands because there everything happened fifty years later. This comment seems a fitting one for another anachronistic Dutch phenomenon: the home birth. Everywhere in the affluent West the safety of mother and child is paramount and hospital births are the norm." Dutch News 2 May 2014

It goes on to talk about midwives playing Russian Roulette with the lives of mothers and babies, that midwives make woefully inadequate risk assessments.

By the time I got to the end of the piece my blood was boiling. And I don't even think it was because of the message in the article, more the tone. I can well imagine how any midwife felt reading the article. The authors imply that the priority of the midwife is not the mother, nor the baby. And how insulting must that be to such a profession?

I miss the part in the article where it states around the time that the worrying baby death figures were published that part of the discussion was that gynaecologists, doctors and anaesthetists weren't always around at night in hospitals. That their absence put women in danger.

I miss the part that admits that many women who were successfully able to have a home birth had a wonderful experience. I gave birth three times in a hospital, and not one time could I say it was a pleasant experience. It got the job done - I took three healthy baby boys home with me, but pleasant? No. Absolutely not. I am envious of the many positive home birth stories I have heard.

I miss the acknowledgement of the research that indicates that hospital births increase the chances of intervention being necessary (caesarian sections, vacuum pump and so on). That labour is lasting longer and longer as women lie around in hospital beds.

I welcome any proper discussion on the topic of child birth, whether that be about the Netherlands or elsewhere. Childbirth should be safe, no matter where you give birth. Women should have a choice. Women should make the decisions, based on facts and risks with the help of the professionals (I'm not alone thinking this see: http://www.knov.nl/actueel-overzicht/nieuws-overzicht/detail/keuze-vrouw-centraal-in-reacties-opiniestuk/1386).

I believe all women should have the right to a safe environment and professional care for labour and birth. But the truth is that sometimes things go wrong; they go wrong in a maternity ward in a hospital, they go wrong at home. Midwives are human. Gynaecologists are human. Labour is unpredictable. Births do not follow a script.

I feel strongly that demonising midwives is just wrong. That's my opinion. Instead of the eternal battle that rages on in the Netherlands between midwifes and gynaecologists about who is best to lead pregnancies, labour and births, it would be nice to see more collaboration. Instead of one camp against another I would rather see more unity, seamless co-operation, specialists working together in the interest of mothers-to-be and their unborn children. Less emphasis on who gets the money for delivery, more emphasis on safety, but also comfort! The comfort of the mother, a relaxed mother, a contented mother, which is proven to aid the labour process, seems to have been forgotten along the way.

The only positive thing I can say about this article is that, despite its dismissive, condescending tone, it has of course sparked discussion. I am, after all, writing about it. Many are talking about it. Many have commented on it. It's a topic that will always spark controversy, that will evoke the most primal of emotions. I believe women should have a choice where they give birth.

But lastly, when all is said and done, I believe child birth is a topic that should be treated respectfully, which I missed in this article.

The Memories in a Clothes Peg

I was just hanging up the washing on the drying rack that hangs over the bannister in our attic when I dropped a clothes peg. I was struck by a wave of nostalgia as I watched the brown, wooden peg tumble down the stairs. Yes, a clothes peg. An innocent everyday household item but it momentarily stopped me in my tracks. I paused what I was doing whilst my thoughts involuntarily floated back to a different time. One not so long ago in reality but one that feels so long ago.

Once upon a time I needed a LOT of pegs to hang the washing up on the clothes dryers. The clothes were so small, the line was full of tiny socks, little sleeveless rompers, all in one baby suits, pyjamas, cloths. I could get five or six items on one line of the clothes airer, sometimes even more. By the time I'd finished hanging up the load from the washing machine my peg bag would be empty.

In fact, my clothes peg collection just kept growing to keep up with my growing family. Layer upon layer of tiny clothes hanging to dry. A reminder of the babies in the house. Babies that went through a few outfits a day, creating endless lines of washing. Tiny, tiny clothes making up stacks and stacks of washing.

And now, this morning, in the emotional aftermath of celebrating my eldest's seventh birthday, it suddenly struck me that the peg bag is never empty. There are never more than two clothes items hanging side by side to dry on the line.

The trousers are suddenly bigger, the T-shirts are wider and longer, some of the children's socks are hard to distinguish from my own. The endless lines of muslins are long gone, now used as cleaning rags or disposed of after years of mopping up after the beautiful babies that have filled our home.

There are a few rompers left, but they are no longer those of a baby, but of an active toddler who will soon have no need of nappies nor the rompers that encase them.

There are shirts and pyjamas that hang to dry that have been with us from the time my eldest was a toddler, now on their third and last adventure. Soon they too will be too small for my little family and they will head to a local woman's shelter, to join the baby clothes we sent there, donations to help other families who are in need, other babies that are less fortunate than mine. Those little garments hang now on the clothes line of another home. A far different home than the ones they started off in.

I hope when a mother dresses her baby there in the shelter, in a second hand romper and a pair of soft blue velvety trousers, despite the difficulty she finds herself in, she sees the miracle before her, holds her bundle and is filled with love. And the clothes we donated have new life breathed into them.

So, I guess, one of theses days, I'll be able to get rid of lots of clothes pegs. But for now, I count my blessings - all because I dropped a clothes peg this morning.

Christmas Gifts Crafted by Creative Expats: La Petite Lulu's Soft Toys

Meet Beckett the Bassett Hound
who is soon to join our family
(c) La Petite Lulu

It's nearly here.... the festive season is approaching fast. Sinterklaas is about to hit town so it's time for those gift ideas I promised courtesy of creative expats. This week something very special for the little people in your life. Or come to think of it, for the big people too.

First up is La Petite Lulu's wonderful handmade soft toys for babies and children. Unbeknown to my children they will each be the proud and happy owner of a unique cuddly animal on the 5th December. That's if I can wait that long to give the softies to them and not put them in their shoes before pakjesavond. I've seen them with my own eyes, and felt them with my own hands - they are unbelievably cute, so soft and brilliantly unique. I know these are the toys that my boys will have stashed away in years to come as a memory of their childhood.

Luana, an Australian expat living in the American state of California, lovingly crafts these softies from recycled fabrics and they are all incredibly affordable, even if you take postage from the USA into account.

Some of you expats here in the Netherlands may know Luana already as up until March this year she called the Netherlands home. That's how I came to be a follower of her expat adventures from pregnancy through to first time motherhood via her La Petite Lulu blog. And now, whilst her son is napping Luana is busy crafting these little masterpieces.

Custom made Monty the
Monkey
(c) La Petite Lulu

From dinosaurs to cars, and fairies to flowers, La Petitie Lulu has a range to fulfill every boy or girl's wish. However, if your child's favourite animal or item isn't on display.... she's happy to take custom orders. That's how Monty the Monkey was born - I asked Luana if she could make a monkey and two days later she sent me a photo of her creation. You can't get a more unique gift than that!

Here are just some of the cuties she has created:

Monty's cousin Moe
(c) La Petite Lulu

Little Gray Car
(c) La Petite Lulu

Blossom the bird
(c) La Petite Lulu

Bernard the beaver
(c) La Petite Lulu

To make one of these little treasures a member of your family head on over to her Etsy shop. But wait, one more thing before you disappear... for readers of this blog there is an exclusive discount of 15% off La Petite Lulu's softies. Just enter the code DOUBLEBUGGY at the Etsy checkout.

**I would just like to mention that I am not receiving any commission for promoting any items in this blog series - I am just sharing the love for creative expats because their products are awesome!! :-)**

Pregnancy Tests, Gizzards and Cycling: A Cultural View of Pregnancy

"Un test de grossesse s'il vous plaît ," I said, having consulted my dog eared French dictionary for the French word for pregnancy test.

"Oui madam," replied the petite, middle aged woman behind the village chemist counter. She opened a small drawer in front of her and pulled out a box. She babbled something fast at me in French and I smiled and handed over a fifty euro note.

Two days later we replayed the same scene, undoubtedly depleting the village's entire pregnancy test supply, whilst simultaneously getting tongues wagging about a potential impending baby boom in the area. From what we had seen of the local demographics there was more call in the area for Zimmer frames than baby products.

Two positive pregnancy tests under our belt and we were confident that I was pregnant. My Dutch partner and I were going to have a baby. And then panic set in. We were on holiday in a remote French village, suddenly pregnant in a foreign country without internet. Did we need to tell someone? Were we supposed to go to the doctor? Were there things I shouldn't eat or do? I had already indulged in the local delicacies, including wine, pate and 'gésier de poulet' (I had no idea what I was ordering, and even after a text from my dad translating gésier as gizzard I was none the wiser). Wine surely wasn't handy.

We called our GP back in the Netherlands. The doctor's assistant summed up what we needed to do,

"Firstly congratulations! When you get back to the Netherlands register with a midwife. Don't go and see a French doctor - you'll be told you can eat anything and everything but you can't. Avoid non-pasteurised cheeses, alcohol, pate and anything from the inside of an animal." Oops. She had just listed the main constituents of my diet for the past week.

Pate best eaten in moderation during pregnancy - according
to the Dutch but not such an issue for the French?
Photo: Neil Gould

"And what about cycling?" my husband asked.

"No problem. Cycling is fine. Just don't fall off!" she replied.

An English friend had been told to avoid cycling during the critical first twelve weeks of her pregnancy. However, after seven years in the Netherlands I knew that asking the Dutch not to cycle for twelve weeks would be like asking them to chop a leg off. It's just never going to happen.

Already during the first week of pregnancy I was learning that culture plays a big role in having a baby as an expat. There were plenty more culture shocks to come during the next nine months.

I came to learn how the Netherlands is very much a midwife based maternity system - a big shock for many American expats - and midwives encourage home births and natural births (in other words, without pain relief) wherever it is safe to do so. I love the mentality that a pregnant woman does not have a medical condition - and should not be treated as if she has.

Before our babies are even born there's a cultural maze to walk our way through - and that's just the beginning!

What notable differences have you noticed with how various countries handle pregnancy and child birth? 

A Strange Begin: Sleepless Nights and An Ambulance,

Photo: (c) The Writing Well

When my youngest son (our third) was born last October, the kraamweek (the week after the birth) didn't quite go as planned. We came back from the hospital on a Friday morning and our interim kraamzorg was stood at our front door to meet us. The first day home went as planned. Lots of rest, help, and time for my eldest two sons to meet their new brother.

The night however was a different story. Our new addition cried a lot at night. By that I mean unless he was being held upright he was crying. As soon as we laid him down his eyes sprung open and he began to scream. That meant, with labour and the birth included, I hadn't slept at all for three nights. I was a little tired to say the least.

Saturday night was a repeat of the night before. Four nights without sleep.

Then on Sunday morning I felt a little strange. It felt as if I was on the verge of slipping away into a dreamland, whilst lying in my kraambed. My kraamzorg (a trainee) came to bring me breakfast, was shocked by how I looked and flew back down the stairs to alert the experienced kraamzorg that all was not well upstairs. They both came charging back upstairs. I was conscious of everything that was going on around me but could not respond. No words came out, my head wouldn't move. My blood pressure was high and I had what I can best describe as the shakes. The kraamzorg called the midwife, who arrived quickly but then struggled to get an accurate blood pressure reading. Due to my unresponsiveness she called an ambulance, informing them not to come with sirens and lights.

A few minutes later I heard a siren getting louder and louder and my insides curdled. My eyes told those in the room that I was horrified with the arrival of an ambulance with "bells and tooters" blazing.

The next fifteen minutes were amongst the strangest of my life. Two ambulance personnel, a male and a female, began loading equipment on the bed. The room was a hive of activity with 2 maternity nurses, a midwife and my family milling around trying to help and get a grip on the situation.

After tests and questions the decision was made to take me to hospital in the ambulance, back to the maternity ward for checks. One of the ambulance crew said it seemed like I had gone in to shock. A birth and four nights with no sleep seemed a viable reason for this....

Somewhere amid the commotion I began to return to the land of the living and could communicate once more.

And so I made it downstairs with help from the ambulance personnel and my husband, and I was loaded on to a stretcher outside our house. Which is when I noticed that the arrival of the ambulance had attracted a sea of onlookers in the street and surrounding houses...... My husband took the baby in the car, as he would stay with me in the maternity ward to ensure that the breastfeeding could continue. My eldest sons stayed with kraamzorg until friends got there to look after them. It was chaotic, upsetting and stressful - for us all.

It was only the second time I had ever been in an ambulance. The first time was to accompany my brother when he had a serious asthma attack when we were out in Watford, England one night. It was certainly the first time I had ever been in a Dutch ambulance. By the time we were driving to the hospital I was compos mentis again, and well aware of the drama of the past half an hour, hour - who knows how much time had passed.

Photo: Pam Roth

Once we arrived at the ambulance entrance of the hospital we seemed to whizz through corridors, past a sea of faces waiting their turn in queues in various departments, until we arrived in the maternity ward. Familiar faces came to help me from the stretcher to a bed and started hooking me up to an array of machines.

Lots of tests ensued from a gynaecologist and a neurologist and I had a few more 'attacks' like I had had that morning. The result was that I had to stay overnight in the hospital. I was devastated - it wasn't how the kraamweek was supposed to be! The kraamweek following the births of my first two sons are etched on my mind as wonderful weeks, a treasure trove of precious moments. And this time I ended up separated from the rest of my family, my husband home worried sick looking after our eldest sons who didn't understand anything that had happened, and me unable to properly care for my newborn.

Aside from a near collapse (luckily a nurse was holding on to me) walking back from the bathroom, the night passed without incident and the next morning I was allowed to return home. Kraamzorg returned. The kraamweek recommenced. The rest of the week passed without incident, but the sleepless nights continued.  So we turned to an osteopath.

He diagnosed our little one as suffering from silent reflux. He was having a rough time of it, hence the sleepless nights. I'd like to say that we got referred to the paediatrician, given medicine and all was well but the reality is that we struggled at night for many months and have only really had peace at night during the last month.

We've come through the other end - and the most amazing thing about all this is that our youngest son is a smiley, giggly, happy little boy - despite the less than easy start in this world.

Photo: (c) The Writing Well

Breast is Best - But Put It Away Please!

Breast is best but nearly half of Dutch people
would prefer not to see breastfeeding mothers
near them in public
Photo: Carin Araujo

There has been lots of press coverage in the Netherlands recently about breastfeeding: the lack of acceptance in public places for breastfeeding, the lack of facilities for breastfeeding mothers and so on. If you take a peek in pregnancy and birth forums the topic of how to discreetly breastfeed your baby in public generally comes up. Many women feel uncomfortable doing it outside the home (me included) but it remains a necessity for most unless you choose to become a hermit for months on end. After all, it is a generally accepted message that breastfeeding is the best, healthiest way to feed babies. So shouldn't it be encouraged as much as possible?

I speak from experience when I say that trying to find a warm, dry, quiet place to breastfeed is a challenge in itself - and that whilst a baby is screaming for a feed.... I have ended up in an office in a first aid hut at the Efteling, a changing room in Peek & Cloppenburg, a dark corner at a table in a pancake restaurant, a toilet cubicle and a far flung table in a restaurant in Blijdorp, a woody hill in a French theme park and the front seat of our car at a service station or side of the road more times than I care to mention. The concept of a place to breastfeed a baby seems lost on many places, even if they are geared especially to children......

The only place that springs to mind where breastfeeding mothers are well catered for is Euro Disney in Paris where there is a heated room set aside, with chairs, for those mothers who wish to feed their babies in relative calm and peace. I have noticed that my local H&M in Zoetermeer also has an area for feeding but I have never been inside (I think you have to go and ask for the key). But in general facilities are poor if you want to breastfeed your baby in public areas.

How are breastfeeding facilities where you live? Is breastfeeding in public encouraged or frowned upon?

• Tips and info on breastfeeding (US Government) 
• UK Law and information about breastfeeding in public

Baby Boxes - Gratis!

If you're pregnant in the Netherlands there are freebies to be had - and if you are even a little bit integrated and living like a Dutchie.. then gratis is good! Very good!

You can sign up for baby boxes which contain free samples and small gifts, as well as discount vouchers and information about baby related items and issues. This gives you a chance to sample leading brands before you commit to buying them - particularly handy if you are pregnant with your first baby.

Prenatal and Etos both do baby boxes (one before and one after the birth). Prenatal offers the "blije doos" which you can collect when you are around seven months pregnant, and the "baby doos" when your new arrival is around three months old. To find out more, including what you can find inside the baby boxes, visit http://www.babyinfo.nl/wijjongeouders/deblijedoos.asp.

Etos do a Zwanger Box (which can be collected from your nearest Etos shop up to week 34 of your pregnancy) and a Baby Box when your baby is around three months old.

In the boxes you will find dummies, bibs, comforters, formula samples (for 6 months plus as companies may not legally give out free formula samples meant for the first few months of a baby's life), parenting magazines, bottles, creams and nappies. it provides a great little cache of baby items to get you started - and best of all at no cost!

Are these baby boxes offered in other countries too?

Let Me Introduce You to My Donkey

Life with a Donkey
(c) The Writing Well

This blog title, Life with a Double Buggy, was inspired by my recent transition from a single to a double pram when my third son was born last October. Before we actually bought a double buggy we weighed up the options.

We considered if carrying the baby for a while everywhere was an option until my middle son grew out of the pram but quickly ascertained that the medical bills for damaged backs would probably amount to more than the cost of a pram. So we turned our attention to the type of double pram to buy. It turns out you can get all sorts of shapes and sizes (and prices) of prams to transport two small children: ferrying them around underneath each other - a sort of bunk bed pram, side by side and in front of each other. In the end it was a question of wide or long, and we chose for wide. We chose a Bugaboo Donkey. We discussed, and hesitated and discussed again (they cost more than most people's first car) but after a test ride on the test tracks at Baby Park we dived in and signed on the dotted line for a Donkey.

The Donkey was delivered. The Donkey was (with some sweat and tears) put together. The Donkey was occupied by my toddler and new born and we braved the streets. Those living in the Netherlands will know that nothing here is particularly big. Roads are not big. Pavements are not huge. Supermarkets are not massive (even the supposedly XL ones pale into insignificance compared to counterparts in the UK, France and US). You get the picture. I need space with my buggy. Space which in most ordinary day to day places just doesn't exist.

Therefore getting my Donkey around has been a challenge in some places. A good example is my eldest son's school. I used to zip through the nearest entrance to the school playground with the single pram. Now to avoid massacring my toddler's arm on the prickly hedge next to the entrance I have to walk around to the next entrance at the front of the school where my double buggy can actually safely pass thorough the barriers. I have to detour.

The blog title is synonymous with life after the birth of my third child; "Life with a Double Buggy" has meant rethinking normal, every day tasks. It throws up challenges. It has made me a little more creative with my time, how I get things done and set priorities. "Life with a Double Buggy" means manoeuvring a little differently - both in life and in the local supermarket!

A Doula by My Side

Photo: Kelsey Johnson

Being pregnant and living in a foreign country can be quite daunting once the euphoria has ebbed and reality hits. Back home you'd have your mum, sister or best friend on hand to support you through the nine month roller coaster that is pregnancy. When you're abroad it may be harder to find that emotional and practical support. Further more there are language and culture differences making it tougher still. This is why a doula is a great option for expats.

For nine months a doula stands at your side, helping you to prepare mentally and physically for the upcoming birth. When D-Day comes and you're huffing and puffing contractions away, a doula provides hands on physical support and pushes you mentally to go further than you thought you ever could. Whilst your partner is passed out exhausted on a chair in the delivery room, a doula takes over and holds your hand. If you're not sure of your options as the birth approaches, a doula paints a picture for you.

There are also medical reasons to have a doula in the delivery room with you - it has been shown that the presence of a doula reduces medical interventions such as caesarians and pain relief. The presence of a doula creates peace, trust and a feeling of safety in the delivery room and this has an effect on the birth of a baby. And speaking from personal experience this is not just sales talk on doula sites.

The birth of my first son was not the straight forward, pleasant experience we had hoped for. This was largely due to a maternity ward running at full capacity and few nurses around to help when we needed it most. It was scary. We'd had the chance of using a doula but thought it unnecessary at the time. A regret for sure. 

During my second pregnancy I didn't hesitate one second to contact a doula to support me and my husband in the delivery room. When my third pregnancy was confirmed she was one of the first to know. 

My doula, Malua te Lintelo, belonged in the delivery room with me and my husband as if she were a member of our family. There was no other person I would have rather had in the delivery room with us last October. After her presence during the birth of my second child, there was no doubt she would be with us for our third.

Not only did she give me the emotional support during the most difficult times of labour, she also gave valued emotional and practical support in the months and particularly weeks before my due date. She reminded me how tiring labour is...... prodded me to get my rest when I could, despite looking after my two children. She encouraged me to lean on others around me and she pushed home how important time with alone with my husband was before the baby arrived. She helped put me in the right emotional and mental place for the birth.

Unfortunately she couldn't wave a magic wand and take away the fatigue that raged once the contractions hit full strength. Two nights of contractions and no sleep had sapped my reserves, but thanks to Malua I got through the birth with a smile on my face and can look back on a happy, memorable birth once more.

There are many reasons to take a doula with you on your journey though pregnancy and birth: for expats there are more reasons still.

For more information about doulas and where to find one near you in the Netherlands visit doula.nl . My doula, Malua, can be contacted at Welkomst and if you would like more information about my experiences in Malua's hands then please feel free to contact me.

To read more about my experience with my doula during my second delivery read my article "A Little Help in the Delivery Room" on I Am Expat.