The perplexed Aunty to be....

Last week a new temporary pattern started in my life that I never thought I'd have to endure, and what an eye-opener it was.

Sat at the kitchen table, working away, I was minding my own business when I received a text from my mum in a panic state that my almost-about-to-burst sister had no one to go to her first antenatal class with her and I knew exactly what was coming..

"You'll go with her to the antenatal class, won't you?" 

Were ten words I didn't expect to hear on my average Tuesday lunchtime, nor actually at any point in my life...

Don't get me wrong, I'm more than excited at the impending day I become an Aunty for the first time. I've been waiting pretty much the last several years for my only sister to finally make me an Aunty, and it's never blooming happened. In fact it's a miracle she finally decided to turn maternal now.

I've helped organise the baby shower, I've purchased over-priced bibs because they're from Etsy which makes them cuter than anything from your average supermarket, and I've agreed to babysit from time to time. Surely that constitutes as Aunty duties almost practically complete now until its 16? Which by that point the only duties I will be doing is more than likely picking up a ridiculously drunk teenager from a party and promising not to tell my sister. Right?

Wrong. I was going to the antenatal class and apparently in return I was getting a Nando's when the baby was born. Yay Chicken.

We had quite a fun time deciding on how best to introduce ourselves. It was a toss up between the lovers that had paid for a sperm donor, or the mum and daughter - and explain she just had me really early on in life.

In the end, we walked in and as heads turned, Terri-ann quickly announced she'd bought her sister along because her husband had refused to come as these sessions were (and I quote) "pointless" and "You'd soon learn to breathe throughout labour so whats the need for practice?". Ohhh you could hear the tuts ripple throughout the room. Especially from the couple that were so loved up I thought they were about to try and make baby number 2 right there and then.

Anyway. Mistake. At least we had soon quashed their thoughts of us being lovers.

The midwife then went into an explanation about how Danny wouldn't just be helping Terri-ann breathe throughout the contractions, but he'd be learning how best to give his wife what she needs through this life changing time. Barf. 

So, we started nicely and with some introductions. We learnt that the loved up and sickly couple had in fact planned exactly when their baby would be born so it would be the older one in school. There was a lady that didn't mention a partner at all and came alone. Very brave and I wanted her to come and work with us. Then there was the couple that reminded me of Marshall and Lily in How I Met Your Mother. She clearly wore the trousers and he had no chance. Last but not least, there was the couple that were sort of an item, she was about to drop, they didn't live together but they were looking to. Terri-ann and I nicknamed them the One Night Stand couple.

Then there was us! The sisters that had absolutely no freaking idea what to do when a baby was thrown in the room, let alone even look after one. That's why we are here though, right? Because according to this midwife, these three sessions would prepare us for the birth, give us an insight into birth and then give us all the tools and knowledge we needed to actually look after a baby.

Bring it on.

The next task included us being split up into groups to discuss questions we had for the midwife about anything that may be bothering us. I say "us", it wasn't bothering me, but Terri-ann was more than freaking out about having to push something the size of a rugby ball out...

We got paired with the ridiculously organised 'I-know-when-I-want-my-babys-birthday-to-be' couple who quickly told us they were that organised they had in fact already got three baby baths, but were only expecting one baby. Terri-ann looked at me and if by magic, Mr Super Organised could clearly tell Terri-ann had forgotten babies need baths and offered her one.. Boom!

Mr and Mrs Super Organised wanted to ask the first question and I was waiting for something that might educate me on how the freaking hell women cope during labour. But no. They wanted to know where they could park when it was time.... okay....

Next question. This is it I thought, a labour question. How wrong could I be?

Mr and Mrs Super Organised wanted to know if Mr Super Organised got free hospital food whilst his wife was in labour. Anyway I don't need to explain the rest of their questions. Blimey, they'd clearly been losing sleep over whether he would get a hotel room in the hospital or not.

It was left to Terri-ann to be the elephant in the room and ask about whether she could have a C-section, and would she get any pain relief, or could she just have some help during labour in the form of ANY pain relief going? She promised to take as much of it as possible. Mr and Mrs Super Organised were mortified; they want a natural birth.

Being the nominated writer out the group, I had to read out the questions and therefore I decided to read the ones I felt we all really needed to know, the ones that were most helpful and could ensure things were simple at all times during the labour. The pain relief questions. Men got these women in this situation, who cares if they don't get fed for 48 hours whilst their wives are screaming blue murder. Go to the vending machine!

Anyway, next up it was time for some detailed explanation and the dreaded box.

I knew what was coming and Terri-ann and I read each others minds by crossing our legs firmly shut. That's right, the midwife pulled out a pelvis and a doll... oh hell no...

Mr and Mrs Super Organised sat forward on their seats, Mrs No Partner looked around the room, Marshall and Lily lookalikes grabbed one another hands and Mr and Mrs One Night Stand just continued to look sheepish.

I don't know if I pulled a face, or winced but the midwife turned to me and said "Sian?" Oh hell no I thought. Do not use me as a Guinea-Pig.

"Do you have any children?"

Terri-ann and I burst out laughing, and I screeched no, only just stopping myself from saying who the hell would willingly go through labour...

"I thought not" she said.

Humph, what did she mean by that? I was going to ace being an Aunty. I could barely remember to look after myself at the best of times, but I could be responsible for a small child. Silly woman.

For the next ten minutes Terri-ann and I sat in complete disgust at the explanation of how exactly a baby prepares to come down the 'birth canal' and what your body does throughout this process. Until...

"Is this going to hurt?" asked Terri-ann...

A few sniggers later and a mumble from me that whoever I married had better prepare himself to pay for me to have a C-section, all attention turned to Mr Marshall and Lily lookalike.

"I have a question" he muttered

"Once the baby is born, can we keep the placenta so we can make it into tablets my wife can then take after the birth?"

WHAT THE......

Maybe exclaiming "why the hell would you do that?" wasn't really politically correct of Terri-ann and I, but still... WHAT? WHY? JUST NO.

Even the midwife looked taken a back now. Ha, someone managed to stump her. Go Marshal!

Turns out Mr Marshall and Lily's friend makes these tablets and is giving it them as a gift once the baby is born. What happened to nice baby outfits, cute shoes, bibs, nappies...or even other essentials? Why does their friend feel the need to turn their placenta into tablets to say 'congratulations, good luck with the sleepless nights and endless brown nappies'?

Really stunned now, I sat back in my chair and just accepted there was people out there that enjoyed this thing. If only the fairy-tales I heard as a kid that birds deliver babies when you want one were true.

And as if by magic, the session was over.

"Next week we'll be going through all the different types of births, from natural, to water births, to C-sections! Following that we'll be going through looking after your baby and tools such as swaddling..."

Rubbing salt in the wounds Terri-ann completely forgot you have to pay for hospital car parks and so it was left for me to find £5 change in my car and get us out of there as quick as possible. Maybe I should ask where I can park for these sessions next week?

Oh hell, Terri-ann if you're reading this, you owe me more than one Nando's for this, but hey, bring on swaddling....!

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When a BD rider decides to change the D to an E!

Way back when I used to love jumping, I'd often be found in the workers ring on my little 12.2h Welsh Section B Sara (who should get more mentions than she does), flying round the course. She was - and still is - a machine. We'd always go clear as she never knocked a fence, and always jumped what was in front of her if she felt you were with her enough.

We were workers champions three consecutive years, rode at Moorgreen County Show where we did a nice clear round in the 75cm class and were always coming home with red ribbons.

Then, one odd day in July, some 14 years ago now (oh my life I'm officially old!!), when jumping in the field at home I cantered towards a rather huge jacobs ladder, with my friend cheering me on and BAM. Sara refused, realising her small size would struggle to get over and instead I was safely deposited over the jump alone. Only for her then to realise it's okay, mum's done it and jump it swiftly after me, crashing into my face.

I can't honestly remember much else, apart from limping down the field, onto the yard and absolutely sobbing with a very funny looking arm, bruised face and cut lip. Someone shouted for my dad, who was off walking the dog somewhere and all I remember is breaking my arm.

Fast forward 6 weeks, having begged my parents to an inch of their life to get back on, my cast was taken off, I was given the all clear and my friend and I stupidly thought I should attempt the jump AGAIN, at the SAME height. My twenty-something-self is currently cursing my teenage self at her stupidity, but hey. I'm sure you know whats coming....

We cantered as fast as we could into the jump, and once again I was deposited the other side and this time Sara thought better of joining me and stayed where she was.

Anyway, another trip to hospital occurred, non-horsey mum was livid, shouted at dad that she was taking me on holiday in 2 weeks and now i'd have to go with an arm in a sling. Thankfully not broken, but badly sprained and ordered to be in a sling for 3 weeks. Not sure I took much notice of that though.

So, since that day my confidence jumping took a bit of a knock. We returned to workers, but didn't really attempt bigger than 80cm from that day on and I always avoided any kind of spread in any form. The sight of jacobs ladders made me want to throw up a tiny bit and you'd be surprised how many times I heaved my way around a show jumping, finished and almost threw up afterwards. Dad called it an embarrassment, I said I could'nt help it.

Anyway, not long after my love for dressage began and all things show jumping was put on a back burner. I outgrew Sara and never found a pony I really enjoyed jumping again.

During university I joined the equestrian team, and jumped for them. It was during th
ese three years that I found my love for jumping once more, but still lacked the pony that had the courage to take me round bigger and more challenging tracks. I was keen to get back into it, but just didn't have the horse!

....and then, as if by magic. Some say we were meant for one another and just waiting for each other to come along. Ziggy arrived! When he arrived we had no idea what he jumped like, but soon enough after we managed to get him going it was evident he jumped like a stag! Then the rest they say is history.

We're here. Ziggy is bold, brave - everything I'd hoped. Aside from being a little spooky, he'll jump anything I put him at. and me? I sit there and hope to God we get over safely, and slowly I'm trying to put my big girl pants on and go Eventing. My hopes of making him a dressage pony are far dashed as people have told me he's too talented to prance about all day.


So, here it is! Our challenge is a BE80. We've accomplished various One Day Events and all sorts, that Eventing is really what I want to do with him now.

However, I just need to cross a tiny bridge. And that tiny bridge seems to be the fact I now throw up when I'm competing over a course of jumps and several people are watching....

Anyway, follow our journey - it might be an interesting one!

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The Land Rover Burghley Horse Trials

I was fortunate enough to receive press passes for Burghley Horse Trials last week, which was fantastic. Huge thank you to the company that sorted that for me.

Unfortunately it does mean however that my full report won't be published here on my blog, as I was commissioned to go for someone else, so they have complete rights over my article. So for all those keen to read it, i'll let you know when it's been posted and point you in the right direction!

Saying that, I'm keen to share my experiences with all of you that avidly follow my blog and ramblings.

I had a superb couple of days there and what made it even nicer is that in all the years I've been to Burghley, I have never been on the showjumping day! So, to be there, 'working' and interviewing the riders as they're warming up and finishing their rounds was an absolute treat.

I was keenly following Oli Townend and his 10-year-old grey gelding, Ballaghmor Class from day one. I've been an avid Oli follower since the day I interviewed him and Geoff Billington years ago, in their lorry. What an absolute pair of jokers, and Oli is genuinely so down to earth.

How amazing though for such a young horse to show such talent over one of the most testing 4* courses? And for Oli to make it look so effortless and easy. I'm completely in awe.

I watched him warm up on his first ride, Samuel Thomas II and spoke to his owner, whom happily stood and chatted like we were in a coffee shop, rather than a collecting ring watching her horse warm up for one of its biggest events.

She joked with me that this was Oli's warm up ride, how she didn't mind and was rooting for him to win on Ballaghmoor Class. She then shared with me the greatest story of how Oli came to receive the ride of Samuel Thomas II - and let me tell you, what a nice one it is.

Then I watched THE round. I stood with all the owners, grooms, families... everyone. I stood at the back, whilst Oli rode such an inspiring round on Ballaghmor Class and there was nothing but silence. You could almost hear a pin drop onto the grass.

...and the crowd eruption when we realised he'd done it was just truly fantastic. Everyone was in tears, and it choked me up something chronic. It was fantastic. To see Oli come out of the ring, trying to fight back the tears (but failing), patting his horse and hugging his grooms and owners.... that was quite something.

I stood and asked a couple of questions whilst he was answering questions for journalists and one of the most awe inspiring comments I've probably ever heard is this one: "I looked around the collecting ring and I thought to myself, there's not another horse I'd rather be on."

Which I think says it all for most of us riders. We can win, lose, fail miserably, or do incredibly well...but if there's no other horse we would rather partner up with than the one we're on, then I think we're all winners, aren't we?

Anyway, so that was Burghley and I left feeling more than inspired about eventing, despite realising how far off I am from perfecting my show jumping to resemble anything these professionals can do! Next up is the British Dressage National Championships where I'm going for myself, so a report will be up on here following that. For now... have a good week!

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