We had our first outing today managing a short walk in the park and a coffee in the walled flower garden. The fresh air and sunlight were wonderfully restorative and I lay on the grass inhaling the perfume wafting from the flower beds around me, while Stu read and Sophia slept. It was physically very tiring but fabulous for the spirits, and importantly for me, Sophia slept the whole time in her stroller while being wheeled over the bumpy terrain which gives me a confidence in taking her out again soon. She also did her first wheelie (hmmm, wonder who was pushing the stroller at the time?!), which will also be her last wheelie if I have anything to do with it!

Perfect little 6 day old lips...

FEED. ME. NOW.

Shame I can't add a sound file to this ;)

Mama Jodes here, physically absolutely shattered, but emotionally so loved up with my beautiful new little daughter, I have a Sophia addiction you wouldn't believe! I can't stop looking at her, holding her, cuddling her, smelling her, kissing her, inhaling her, having her near me at all times. She sleeps on my chest for a few hours at a time, and it gives me a happiness so complete, I can't even begin to describe it. It feels as though my arms were made specifically to hold and cradle and cuddle her, we fit each other so well.

It's not easy caring for a new born, their needs are frequent and sometimes feel relentless, but so far I wouldn't change a thing as we get to know each other. It's all part of our experience together as a family and I know a bad hour or two now can be followed by a joyous moment or interaction several hours later. She makes the cutest little snuffle when she's coming towards the end of a feed and I know she's then shortly going to fall asleep and slip off the breast with her precious rosebud lips pursed and covered with milk droplets. At night time she has no interest in being in her bassinet or stroller, and will make her case strongly and loudly until I pick her up, at which point she looks at me, now quietened, as if to say 'that's all I wanted, to be near you and Daddy', and into bed she comes with us. We have put ourselves into the 'Sophia Time Zone', as she adjusts to life outside the womb and we adjust to our new roles as Mum and Dad. We observe, respond, fail, try again, perservere, try something new, have a good cry (sometimes Mum and baby together!), laugh, smile, delight in each other. This is a journey like no other I have been on, and it is magnificent. We feel like explorers in a new territory coming across wonders and challenges like never before.

There has been a lot of interest from people about the fact I delivered Sophs in water, and this is the room (click here) where we actually birthed her. I was very lucky it was free when we arrived at the Birth Centre, as there is only one pool available. I will save my birth story for another time, but will just say for now that when I reached down into the water to bring my daughter to the surface and onto my chest it was the the most incredible moment of my life to date. I had no pain relief apart from gas/air, the comforting warmth of the water in the pool, and my amazing husband encouraging and caring for me, and I would do it the same way all again!

One last thing before I go and sleep (when Sophia sleeps, I try to sleep), I lost about a litre of blood post-delivery (they aren't quite sure, as I'd birthed in the water it was difficult to tell). As I brought Sophia to the surface her cord snapped, there was no way of anyone knowing that it was a short cord, and a lot of blood came out. I fainted several times about 20 minutes after delivering her and apparently triggered a SWAT team-esque response of medical staff, to which I was oblivious. Last thing I knew I was cradling and marvelling at my daughter, then the sounds around me faded like someone turned the volume down before the whole world faded to black. I experienced a series of vivid brightly cloured scenes and images which I cannot for the life of me fully recall, and then I woke up in the recovery position having needles shoved into me and people in my face trying to get me to talk and answer questions and respond. All I remember thinking is 'what happened' and 'where is Sophia, is she ok' and trying to look around the room to find her. They replaced the blood with something (there were three drips in). I cannot begin to imagine how frightening this must have been for Stu to see. Apparently they needed 5 people to haul my unconscious form out of the pool and onto the bed (which explains the various bruises along my legs and back!). We are all recovering really well, but the downside is my iron levels are half what they should be, and I am even more shattered than would be normal post-birth. So, please excuse me for not responding to emails/voice mails/texts as quickly as I normally would. I know everyone is very curious about our little one, and I will be back soon!

Quick update:

Jodie and Sophia came home from the hospital yesterday after a (sleepless) night in the post-natal ward. Both are doing well. Sophia has, shall we say, a voracious appetite (!) Jodie is exhausted, and still slowly recovering physically from the exertion of her labour; but she is emotionally strong and very happy, enjoying every aspect of motherhood (except sore nipples!).

Thanks to all for your wishes, texts, emails, cards, flowers etc. We'll be in touch individually soon.

Stu still posting for Jodes

Sophia Christine Bell

b.23-07-07 6.24am

Mother and daugther take a well-earned rest...

I will let Jodie recover and find her own words, in her own time, to describe the amazing events of the last 24 hours. Expect many more photos to come! I will say just that this morning my wife showed her true strength, and a courage that is humbling; she fought through pain I can't begin to imagine, to acheive the natural birth she had so wished for. Jodie has brought into the world a beautiful, mesmerising little girl, our daughter, Sophia. I am so proud of them both.

Stu posting for Jodes

Our wonderful daughter asleep after her first eventful day...

Stu posting for Jodes

Thought we may as well make the most of my elephantine belly and record it for posterity (trying to find the good things about being this big amongst the aches, pains, twinges, cramps, muscle spasms, inability to reach my feet etc etc yadda yadda) so we did a nudie photo shoot last night. Most of the pics won't be seen by anyone but Stu or I, but I quite liked this cropped belly shot :D What you can't see is how much the baby was wriggling around at the time!

40 weeks + 1 day = H U G E and grumpy lady (although I am almost managing a smile here!)

HAD to get out of the house yesterday so we scoured the London gallery websites and picked an exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery called 'Daily Encounters', a brief taste of the history of photo-journalism in the UK. It was fascinating to read about the history of some iconic images (for example this image of a milkman delivering milk through the rubble during WWII was actually staged - he was the photographer's assistant!), as well as learn about the history of photography in the media and how it evolved. Rupert Murdoch has a lot to answer for!

And so my due date comes and goes and I'm currently cranky, uncomfortable and p*ssed off....

Update: after a checkup this morning the baby's head isn't even engaged, isn't even thinking about going near the exit, and is having just way too comfortable a time in its climate controlled ergonomic environment with food and water on tap to be thinking about coming out into the world. The midwives have confidently made me another appointment with them for Friday next week where we will talk about 'options' (eek!). One thing's for sure, if they end up inducing me in a few weeks it will be with an epidural in place and ready to go. No way am I attempting a natural birth with the nasty induction drugs bypassing the early stages of labour and taking you straight into the hardcore part of birthing. Drugs, drugs, give me drugs.

Thank you for all the texts and messages today, I appreciate your thoughts. I really do promise you though that we haven't had the baby yet and we aren't keeping anything a secret. Just please don't expect to be told when I go into labour as no one is being told anything until our little one is safely on the outside and we have spent a few hours with him/her. I think it's a fair assumption not to expect any news for at least another 7 days.

I also found out why I've been able to sleep 12-14 hours a day easily given half the chance and I'm knackered all the time - my iron levels are very low, which I should have found out a fortnight ago had my midwives not forgotten to put my blood samples in. I have some lovely iron tablets to take daily now, hopefully they'll kick in soon.

So, Stu and I are planning a lovely weekend together with lots of distractions, and I'm consoling myself with a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts, a new top in my pre-pregnancy clothes size to gaze at longingly and a new gold wrap/cardigan.

Vive la retail therapy and junk food for their restorative powers!

How do you carry continuously the weight of waiting? The weight of expectations? The wait for something to happen? The weight of 9 months worth of waiting, anticipation? The weight of the now sometimes overwhelming need to hold my baby in my arms, looking into his/her eyes, tracing my finger along the perfection of his/her face, resting a tiny hand in my own vast, sturdy hand? How to draw back into the present moment so as to stay grounded, mindful, rested? The weight of waiting is made bearable knowing that it is so close, that there is an end point, that the pendulum will shift sometime in the next 10 or so nights, when the weight of waiting will then be no more, and action and excitement will be all.

Happy first birthday to little blondie Ethan for Tuesday, Happy Birthday to Stu for last Sunday, Happy Birthday to Freddie and Iain for next Monday and Tuesday!

One more birthday will be added to these some time over the next few weeks!

Jazz on a summer's eve... I managed the 40 paces from our front door to Karmarama cafe in the park across the road for a jazz concert last night with the Andy Davies Quartet, which was simply stunning. Andy (from Wales), together with an Italian bass guitarist, French guitarist and Londoner drummer put on a virtuoso performance, alternately toe-tapping, soulful, emotive and downright funky, of entirely original material. Andy walked around the cafe playing and in this pic was wowing us and the people around us with the lightning speed of his fingers. All of the audience were locals and we bumped into Sandeep who we met walking in the park a few months ago, as well as meeting a few of the other people from the area. Some nights just 'work', and the combination of music, BBQ aromas and tastes, chatter and music was perfection!

Stu met up with Steph and the kids yesterday at the Star Wars exhibition and got to vicariously experience the thrill of a light sabre fight as Arthur and Thomas were filmed taking on an evil Jedi against a green screen (backgrounds from the movie were then inserted). Here Jedi Arthurwan moves his light sabre at lightning speed and emerges victorious after a particularly effective 'force push' which subsequently sent the bad dude flying. They got to take home a DVD of their exploits which I'm sure I'll be able to watch (repeatedly!) when I see them next! (I spent yesterday at home feeling like a whale)

38 1/2 weeks preggers in 'our' back garden where we took books and a little picnic one night after Stu came home from work (and I was shattered after a hard day of doing, erm, not a lot apart from host this little (big!) guest in my belly)!

The last of a beautifully scented bouquet of lillies from Stu, resplendent in the summer morning sunlight which streams through our bay window...

Boy am I feeling the love in London! Being this heavily pregnant makes everyone smile and coo warmly at you and brings forth exclamations, good wishes, hugs and kisses from total strangers who engage me in conversation - when are you due? Is it your first? You look lovely, so well! Good luck I hope it goes well!

A sweet little old Chinese lady who was no taller than my bust height insisted on holding my hand getting on and off the tube so 'I didn't fall' (I was more worried about her toppling over!) and planted a huge smackeroo on my cheek as she got off the train a few stops later. All very random but enjoyable, given what a reserved bunch these Londoners usually are... I've had advice and encouragement from cabbies and shop assistants, fellow bus and train passengers and people in the street. It's been really quite wonderful, particularly when I'm feeling about as attractive as an obese whale and have the energy levels of a pot-smoking sloth!

Just to clarify a few things:
1) The due date is the 20th and the baby can show up any time before the 30th without medical staff getting antsy and mentioning nasty things like inductions.
2) Stu will be sending out the news once our little one is born, and yes you are on the list of people to notify!
3) No, I am not terrified by the very thought of labour, and asking me repeatedly is not going to change my answer. Really. I have done everything I can do to prepare, I have excellent support lined up as well as access to fabulous drugs, and I will get through it just like all the others who have birthed a child over the past, oh, several thousand years.

Gosh is that the time? I'm off for a nap!

I am now on the raspberry leaf tea. Stu reckons the baby is going to be late. The thought of another 2-3 weeks of carrying my beautiful little heffalump around in my belly is enough to drive me to distraction.

So, we continue to make plans and live a pre-baby life. In close proximity to home ;) There is a jazz gig on Saturday night at the cafe across the road with this quartet performing (http://www.andydaviesjazz.com/newwebsite/indexENG.htm) and I reckon I can make the 40 steps from the front door to the cafe without expending too much energy. And I know our baby likes jazz as whenever I put a jazz CD on the boogeying in my belly begins!

Random quote of the week, overheard on the tube by two Cockney tradesmen lugging large tool boxes and drop sheets:

'They're oompaloompas with paintbrushes'

What a great visual - made me laugh!

Top 5 things NOT to say to a heavily pregnant woman:

1) There is no way I could put myself through the extended agony of childbirth, it's terrifying to even think about the pain and what childbirth does to your body, by the way how are you feeling about it? (yeah really looking forward to it, thanks, did you know I'm a masochist in my spare time)
2) Oh my god how many do you have in there? (...and a partridge in a pear tree)
3) Your baby must be huge, how are you going to get it out? (well I was thinking of tying a piece of chocolate to a stick and dangling it near the exit - if s/he's anything like her mum s/he'll be out like a shot)
4) Oh you are so going to need to have stitches when that comes out (If you keep saying things like that you're going to need stitches)
5) Oh you've got at least another 3 weeks to go, your baby is still sitting too high (why don't you just serve me my coffee and I'll get the opinion of someone with a medical background).

Look, there is no going back, I will be experiencing the process of birthing my child, and I will get through it one way or another because I have no choice but to get through it. I've heard enough birth stories to know that God is a man, I've heard what happens, and I have no qualms about screaming my head off or demanding drugs. But that doesn't mean I want to hear you voice your own fears or thoughts about something that I am shortly going to experience for myself. Please, spare me your wisdom and just stay quiet!

Ok I'm relenting, here is a pic I took in the mirror in Squishy's room at 37 1/2 weeks. Ginormo woman! Luckily I still have no swelling at all in my hands or feet, but I have developed a very attractive double chin, a butt that deserves a 'wide load' sign attached to it and bingo wings on my upper arms that any grandma would be proud of!

The sign on the door of Thomas and Arthur's bedroom... I don't think they've quite reached the 'no girls' phase as they've included little sister Amelia on the note!

Today was the open air performance in the park of Peer Gynt, an Ibsen play which was rather oblique but nevertheless enjoyable due to its park setting (and the glorious sunshine!). We followed the performance around the park getting more and more lost as to what was going on and had to resort to reading the program to find out what the heck the actors were talking about! After a lovely coffee and slice of apple tart at the cafe after the play we moseyed on home to get out of the sun - I've become an English lightweight! Although I think the 8lbs+ of baby I'm carrying might have a little something to do with it ;) They repeated the play in the evening as well, so we re-watched the last scene in the walled garden from our bathroom window!

We finally captured one of the many visitors to our bird feeder - this is a baby green finch, one of the many eating us out of house and home! Once the food runs out they sit on the window sill peering through the glass and peeping at us until we refill it. There is something so lovely about bringing a little piece of nature to your window...

If someone says to me 'you think too much' I take it as a compliment. Information is what I do, it's how I respond, cope, manage, problem-solve, negotiate my way from one day to the next. I like to know what all of my options are, at all times; be a good girl scout and be prepared. Society ably assists in this by operating on the 'hurdle model' - you encounter a problem, you research it, spend time on it gathering information and ultimately, hopefully, resolve what was before you and overcome the hurdle. It's a model applied daily across the globe and provides a structure for getting through daily life as well as the sometimes tricksy situations you find yourself in.

But the question I've recently started to ask myself is can this model be applied to parenthood? I've read a number of parenting books now, most of them offering conflicting advice - put the baby on a routine from day 1 vs carry your baby in a sling 24/7 and immediately respond to its every cry. Breastfeed vs bottle feed. Disposable nappies vs washable ones. There is information in abundance on every single possible aspect of practical parenting. As I read some of the books offering advice on how to care for your baby, more and more I find myself thinking 'but what if my baby isn't like that/doesn't do that?' Surely there is as much individual difference in babies as there is in adults? This is all so new and unfamiliar to me, and it's all too easy to consider others the 'experts', but this little voice at the back of my mind has been raising the volume on questioning what I've been reading.

I have slowly, slowly come to the realisation that, for me, I need to change the way I have viewed the world and lived my adult life, that my life philosophy might not apply completely to the next stage of Stu's and my life's journey with our little one. That I need to open myself up to living in uncertainty, in ignorance, and (shock!) not necessarily knowing what to do, that my baby is not a series of problems to be fixed (crying? do this; squirming? do that), but rather a little person who I need to spend time with getting to know, to learn what provides comfort for him/her, to discover what sort of temperament s/he has, to learn how to interact with in a whole new way.

I am completely re-evaluating how I had been planning to care for my baby, and have realised I want to re-learn the ability I must have had once upon a time just to be, to observe, to be curious and open-minded as to the possibilities. I need to resist the temptation to 'do', to stack up the tasks and accomplish them, to cross things off lists, to achieve. And you know what? It's scary to acknowledge that I won't necessarily know what to do all the time. But...as I keep telling myself, I will learn, I will trust my instincts, and it's ok to not know what to do, and just to be for a while. I'll be back in the whirlwind world of work and study and information and achieving before I know it, but now is not the time for it.

Information is still important to me, it always will be, and I hope I will have enough brain cells left in a sleep-deprived brain to use it to guide me through the practical, tangible side of mothering. I have a list of things to try when the baby cries, I have techniques on positioning for breastfeeding, but the rest of it? The comforting, the nurturing, the ability just to be, observe, interact and open myself up to learn about the little person I have been blessed with to be able to raise and nurture...watch this space!

Terrorist attacks blah blah airports dangerous blah blah threat level critical blah blah doctors arrested blah blah Australian government issues travel warning for people going to the UK blah blah Jodie how can you live there blah blah blah. Yes, there was a blazing car driven into an airport and luckily, mercifully, the only people this time with serious injuries are the terrorists themselves. Actually you know what? I intensely dislike that word 'terrorist'. It implies someone who creates terror, and for the most part, all these extremists are doing at the moment is creating a resilience and determination to continue life as normal. They should be called 'narrow-minded arrogant ignorant muppets'. Stop giving them press coverage across every sodding newspaper in the country, stop devoting column inches to their deeds and their activity, remove the PR oxygen that fans the flames of their 'cause' - another useless descriptor that has been attached to them - 'cause' implies something worthy, worthwhile when it's something laced with a hatred and putridity that I cannot and will not ever comprehend. You want to live under sharia law? F*ck off to a country where sharia law is already in place. My western values, dress sense, morals, religion don't please you? F*ck off somewhere where you can immerse yourself in the strictest interpretation of Islam on a day to day basis (I hear the Taleban are recruiting on the Afghani-Pakistani borders). The world is still a big enough place for you to live your way, me to live my way, and for us all to co-exist.

I went to Picadilly Circus yesterday (yes that's right, where the car bomb was found), because a grieving friend needed support and that's where she happened to be and let's face it, it's now probably one of the safest streets in the capital. Then I met Stu on Oxford Street (shock! another target!) for some last minute baby things before we boarded the tube home (ack! at another prime target!). You just get on with your life because if you don't, they've succeeded in intimidating you.

And one more thing while I'm riding about on my high horse (nice view from up here). Will people PLEASE stop referring to all Muslims as evil bad people. Christian fundamentalists murdered an abortion doctor a while ago but you don't hear all Christians across the globe being condemned as murderers. The people planning these attacks are a hard core extremist component and are not representative of all Muslims. Having said that, below is a comment from the BBC news website sent in by a reader (not me) which makes for interesting reading. Food for thought.

"I feel quite safe, much safer than I do in certain other countries I have visited. What would make me feel safer still is a concerted and very public exercise by the British Moslem community and their Imams, teachers and other senior figures to utterly condemn these barbaric practices being carried out supposedly in their name. I feel for any community singled out as pariah but they can and must help themselves and us to move towards mutual understanding by showing their disgust."

Whilst a failure to condemn should never be confused with active support for what has happened, I do join with this person and many others in wondering when the vociferous public condemnation by the leaders of the British Muslim community will occur. Silence is all too easy to misinterpret.

Rant over. Now I'm going back to thinking about my baby.