All by myself (with two under twos)

The end of the week is looming. HID has been off work, helping with the babies, for almost a month, and on Monday, he returns. Frankly, I'm dreading it. Coincidentally, my Mum is also on holiday that same week, so no seeking solace at her place then. I'm still not feeling 100%, even after a month's rest, my pelvic disorder is still raging. I'm loads better, but a trip to the corner shop is a massive challenge, and takes half the day too. This leads me to conclude that I shall be entertaining two under twos all week within the confines of our house, as post-c-section, I can't even drive. One of them wants to do nothing but sit and feed all day, and the other would consider sitting still a form of torture.

I'm not filled with confidence after the first time I was left alone with both of them. I was feeding the baby, and HID nipped upstairs to the loo. Moments later, Boy was reaching for our huge camera, positioned "out of reach" (a concept that needs to be reviewed) on a shelf. Due to a spectacular over-use of the word "no" by his grandparents (he attempts to drink from a glass [he can actually do this] and Granddad says "nonononononononono no!". Literally.) when I really need the word to have some kind of impact, like when he is about to smash an extremely heavy camera into his face, it has no meaning, and is happily ignored. Cue a screaming toddler and me not being able to leap up quick enough to prevent it. I am hopeful that next week won't be filled with moments such as these.

But as a believer that prevention is better than cure, I'm in the process of arranging several friends to come round to play throughout the week, and enlisting MIL for a couple of lifts to children's centre run activities. But obviously I can't take the mick. I will have to be on my own with them some time!

Had a small trial run today, took both babies to our local breastfeeding network support group, where I could happily sit feeding, and Boy could play with all the toys. Things seemed to go great, and we only had a few minor incidents (which only even register because he was the only toddler, therefore his every move seemed extra noisy and boisterous).

1.) Whilst in the (walk-in) cupboard, he attempted to reach for a toy at the bottom of the box, and *almost* fell in, his feet left the floor several times anyway. I was the only person who didn't see this as cause for alarm. (You should see what he does at home.)

2.) At a particularly quiet moment, upturned an entire box of wooden dolls house people. Everyone looked round to see who was responsible. I had no need to look.

3.) Grabbed my cup of cordial and *almost* accidentally poured the whole lot into my bag. I was impressed that it was only a small splosh due to my now cat-like reactions.

4.) Had a minor "sharing" incident with a much bigger boy.

5.) Honed in on the only Dad in the group, repeatedly handing him plastic zoo animals til they were all gone, much to the poor guy's bewilderment.

6.) *Almost* stood on two separate baby's heads, several times. Those babies obviously don't have older siblings at home.

All while I was pinned to a chair breastfeeding! All in all, better than I could have hoped, he didn't cry or tantrum once :-)

I really don't know how Amy from and1moremeans4 does it. She's amazing. Congratulations to her on her pregnancy news! One of the mums I saw today told me about a lady I had thought previously MUST be an urban legend, but who was actually in the bed opposite her in hospital. A lady with 6 boys at home, who had "gone for the girl" and found herself pregnant with triplets! Luckily, they were all girls, and she was delighted. Well, fertility does increase with every child you have, watch out Amy! I wonder if Amy is going for the netball team, or if she fancies a blue one this time :-) very well done to her x

Missing my baby

I miss my son terribly. Every morning, stiff from sleep, I am unable to pick him up for the cuddle we both need to start our days. I am well enough to either pour out his cereal or sit up at the table to eat breakfast with him. I am currently expected to do both. So after breakfast, I spend time lying on the sofa recovering, unable to interact with him in a normal way. I am too distracted by pain. He watches more TV than we ever would in our own home. It is something I am able to do with him, but I'd rather he play, even if it is not with me. When he has his morning sleep, I am not resting, but using the time to dress and wash with agonizing slowness. Then I take more painkillers and try to rest before he wakes, having been soothed to sleep not by me but by his grandmother. He has stopped coming to me. Mummy can't play, get food or give cuddles, so what use is she? All his affection is reserved for Nana, who is doing everything I passionately wish I could. I sobbed today when he voluntarily came to give me a goodbye kiss and wave when heading out of the door on yet another outing I cannot accompany him on.

He is eating lots of food we wouldn't normally have at home, such as tinned meals, biscuits and bread often more than twice a day. The only vegetables he eats are the ones in the individual portions of homecooked food I made from scratch months ago, to have healthy ready meals for him for after the new baby arrives. My supply continues to dwindle, and I can't even be sure that I am well enough each day to stand and defrost the meal and then heat it. And it seems others are unwilling when there are tins of ravioli to be served. He is allowed snacks very close to meal times, when I would normally just try to get the meal ready a little earlier. Instead, he has to wait, and fill up on snacks while such-and-such a job just needs to be finished. His meals are often eaten alone, something I try to avoid. After all, how will he learn to use cutlery if he has no frame of reference? He is often spoon-fed, often in front of the TV. He often eats too much as the TV distracts him enough to miss his full-up signal. He is then praised for finishing a meal. I don't mind if he doesn't eat much of his meals, as he is learning how much he needs, and only he can be the judge of his own hunger. But while we are here, he is learning that people find clean plates a cause for celebration, something which I feel founds my own over-eating. I wish I could avoid this. He is scolded for experimenting with the feel and texture of foods with his hand. He is only learning, and wants to see. Yet....

He is being allowed to get away with much more than at home, such as throwing toys. I cannot leap up to stop him, and he has a much larger audience here. Daddy had a plastic cup launched into his face this evening, hitting the bridge of his nose, after his glasses did. And any reprimands that do not come from me are shouted, loudly, something I try to avoid, along with overuse of the word “no”. Boredom whining and frustration tantrums are not met with a “how can we solve this” attitude that I really do try so hard to present at home, but with “oh, stop your moaning”, not something a 20 month old can easily understand. He is bored, he is used to one planned activity outside the home a day, he is a difficult to entertain toddler. But he is now expected to be happy in the house all day. He isn't.

The worst part of the day by far is night time. Daddy usually arrives to put him to bed. Downstairs, I listen to the delighted squealing in the bath, and try not to think about how he cuddles close for his bedtime milk, folding into your body for his last bit of contact before bed. I have not personally witnessed how he rolls away onto his tummy with his blanket and dummy and sleepily dismisses you from the room for over a month now. Later, I go to bed, and HID goes home and leaves me, to fit the new bathroom before the new baby arrives. In the night, as is usual, I hear crying that wakes a mother instantly. I cannot get upstairs to him, even if he was downstairs with me, I am unable to lift him into my arms for comfort, and sway and nurse him like I used to. I wait, listening to his cries escalate in intensity before my mother wakes and tends to him. I lay in bed, considering each night dragging my body up those stairs just to see that he is all right. I would pick him up, I think. I would give him milk. But a tack of a different generation is used. Without the parents and comfort he is used to, in a strange bed in Nana's house, he wakes even more frequently than at home. HID takes on the night shift at weekends and a few nights a week. Who knows, this change could unsettle him even more. This is the part I hate the most. Trapped in my bed, listening to my son scream out in the night for attention and affection, something a child should never be denied, even at 3am. Yes, sometimes my patience wears thin with a child that doesn't sleep through the night. But he is my son, and I'm always prepared to go to him. The sleepless nights make anyone but a mother (and sometimes her too) have a short fuse, even with a delightful and much-loved small boy who just wants to play.

My mother is almost 50, she didn't plan at this age to be getting up three or more times a night to tend to a crying baby. She didn't make the decision to be running around after an energetic toddler all day, coming up with new and exciting things to do each time boredom strikes. She did not expect that I would be so ill in my second pregnancy, no one did, or I would have put it off for much longer. No one has asked her to do all our washing, cook all our meals, change all the nappies and an endless list of other wonderfully caring things she does, completely unasked, and, it must seem, thanklessly. I am so very lucky and grateful to have her. I just wish I was doing it my way. It isn't just the parental-style issue. I miss it. I want it so badly that each time they leave the house, and I am alone, I cry bitterly with the agony of spending all day with a child, but not really being present for him. Daddy must miss him too, he isn't seeing him nearly as much as if we were living at home. But I have totally crumpled. And with each day, the pain increases, and I am doing less and less with him, for him. As a mother, it's killing me.

One thing that struck me today: he learned to walk just as I was losing the ability. So although he has been walking for some months now, and is able to walk distances in the park and so on, I have never seen this. I have never walked with him outside. I haven't had the excitement of seeing a dog in the distance with him, or having a bus drive past us.

I cannot explain how desperate I am to get better. I don't want to be a burden on my mum and husband, and all the friends that are helping us. I don't want to be in pain. I want my son's routine, discipline, eating and sleeping habits to return to normal. But so much above all of that,I want to go back to being the mother I was, and I want to stop missing out on my son's toddlerhood. I want to teach the new words and play the new games. I want to show him the world. Me. Not anyone else. I am missing that so much. I am missing being a mummy so much. I am missing him so much that I ache.

Spirited baby

This new baby is a mover. It is active. An hour will not pass without some kind of movement. And the turns and stretches it performs are by no means gentle. Months ago, before the movements even became that pronounced (at present you can easily see them from across the room, something that never happened with my first pregnancy), I had gone to bed early, and was only half aware of HID coming upstairs much later to get ready for bed. He spends ages in the bathroom, so by the time he entered the bedroom, I was fast asleep again. The baby suddenly gave an almighty kick! My entire body jumped as it tugged me out of sleep, and my eyes sprang open to find HID, leaning over the bed, face inches from mine, about to give me a tender goodnight kiss. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you jump!”. He was mortified. I explained that it hadn't been him that woke me at all, but the baby! We concluded that the baby must have been wide awake, and heard/sensed Daddy's approach, and wanted to get noticed. Oh my goodness, this baby will not be ignored!

Every single time HID and I hug now, he always gets kicked by the baby. I don't always register these kicks, as they are quite gentle compared to what I'm used to, but HID always tells me!

In my first pregnancy, I never really saw baby move under my skin. But I'm a little slimmer now, and the movements have been quite obvious, even under two layers of clothing, for sometime! My bump is also much bigger (but still tiny by everyone else's standards), and I think my belly button may pop out this time! And with six weeks to go, I'm already a little breathless and uncomfortable, having to sit up very straight to give the baby enough room.

I often get a persistent prod from the baby, (usually my right side, where it often gets stuck, and seems to favour) over and over again, but quite gentle. It feels almost like a pulse or heartbeat. Sometimes I can barely feel it. It happened while with my mum a few weeks ago, and she came over to feel it. She remarked on how big a kick it was! I disagreed, informing her how tiny it was in comparison to most.

Now regular readers may be aware that my first born was what some may call a “high-need” baby, and well, he's now a high-need toddler too (I'm guessing he may well be a spirited teenager as well...). This is one of the reasons (along with the general practicalities of already having any child, let alone having one that needs full damage-control to stop him ending up in casualty 24/7) that this pregnancy hasn't been dwelt on very much. Not just by me, but the whole family has been so busy enjoying Boy that we just sort of forgot to marvel at the bump, or sit around for an age discussing names, trawling round the shops for babygear, my Dad has even said he keeps forgetting I'm pregnant! But, with it's super-human kicks and somersaults, this little babe is not one that will be willingly ignored. It is constantly reminding me that it's here.

Something worrying though; I was chatting about baby's movements with my physiotherapist, who had two children, firstborn, a very active and boisterous boy, second, a contentedly quiet girl. She told a tale of how, in her second pregnancy her baby seemed to hardly move at all in comparison to her first. The midwife gave her a sort of tick chart, to monitor the movements of baby over 24hrs, which she did. When she handed it in the next day the midwife assured her that the kicks and movements she was feeling this time were entirely normal, and for interest, could she remember enough to fill out another chart for her first pregnancy, to compare? This she did, and the midwife remarked how very far from normal it was to have a baby that moved so much! The worrying thing in this story, is that my physiotherapist believes that her children's personalities were already shaped in the womb: the boy, even at nine years old, cannot sit still, and as a toddler was very hard work, just to keep up with him! The little girl, she says, is happy to sit doing jigsaws quietly, even from being very tiny, both exactly how they were in the womb.

This information does not bode well for me. In comparison to this pregnancy, my Boy hardly kicked or moved at all in utero, yet now, every moment that he is awake is spent moving (and quite a few moments in his sleep, judging my the positions he gets himself into in his cot). He does not walk, he only runs. Toys are interesting for a matter of seconds before being discarded for the next adventure. By 8.30am most mornings, he is crying at the front door to go out (anywhere) having exhausted all he can do within the confines of a house. So I am slightly worried that movements in the womb may reflect later tendencies for movement in general.....I am really not sure there even is such a child that is more active than the one I already have, and is there is, how will I cope with two, and even more action with the second??

Friends have comfortingly pointed out that there may be no link, or that this child is “getting it all out of its system” before being born. I thought, after last time, I might be due a placid, dare I think it, sleepy child. They say you usually get one of each...but they also say that the second born is usually the worst of the two....argh! (Otherwise, you'd have to be mad, like me, to have more...) I was also informed in my difficult last pregnancy, that if you have a bad pregnancy, usually you have a nice birth, or an “easy” baby.....zero out of three is not a good score. Then add on the terrible post-partum....ho hum. Am I in for another rough ride? Am I bothered? Ha ha, I laugh at the prospect of difficult children. You can't scare me, I already have one!

Sunday can't come soon enough

I miss my mum. She has been on holiday in Canada for the last nine days and is not due home until Sunday. Is not that I miss HER as much as I should, but the unquestioning, anytime, joyfully given help she bestows on me in caring or hr beloved grandson while I struggle through the pain of SPD. I have quite clearly been taking this for granted, as I've not realised until now how great I have it. I had been able to ring her if I was having a painful day, and either go round to visit, and have a nice sit down and watch while she plays with Boy, running around and doing all the things I can't with him, or dropping him off for a few hours on my own. Instead, I'm dauntingly on my own ALL DAY from waking up until half an hour or so before Boy's bedtime. To set the context, I have a high-need, on the go, high energy toddler who enjoys going out at least once day to do even more high-energy, on the go stuff outdoors/in the company of others. Most days, we wouldn't even get to 8am before he is crying at the front door, or if he's being very easy-going, the back door. Come teatime, even as an able-bodied un-pregnant mum I have been in the past, I've completely exhausted our supply of parent-toddler groups/walking in the sling/playdates/swimming pool/library/visits to shops or garden centres/all the toys and books that reside in our house. And now I'm a mum that can't walk more than a few steps without wincing, and later holding back tears, can't sit on the floor to play, can't carry an 18 m old (no matter how much he begs, and yes it breaks my heart when he brings me the sling an cries to go in it), and, as a new development, is finding it increasingly painful to drive. In fact, I've stalled my car due to pain holding the clutch. (How much longer am I safe to drive?)

These points are not leaving me with many options for entertaining a small boy (never mind keeping on top of housework), but any suggestions would be most, most welcome. About two months ago, a lady at a parent-toddler group sympathetically approached me and asked how on earth I was coping, as I used my crutches to hobble to my car with my son in a sling on my hip. (Add two months or my condition deteriorating & bump and toddler growing to this scenario). She suggested I give homestart, a charity that helps families that need it, and see if they could help me. After a home visit, I was declared a "high priority" case, and skipped the waiting list. (I was on said list when I suffered a bad post-partum with my last baby, but by the time the 4 m wait ended, I felt much better and passed up my place to someone more in need). I was assigned a volunteer, who seemed lovely, to show up the next week for 3 hours, to play with Boy, or help us go out to a group perhaps. (I need someone to carry my toddler and bag, an to run around after him while we are there.) I planned my day around the schedule, as many of you know, it is hard to organise naps and mealtimes round a small child if you wish to leave the house, especially with one who has no set routine, but still has two naps a day!

1st time: she rang the day before, she was ill, re-schedule for following week. A little disappointed, but understanding.

2nd time: she rang the morning of: hubby slipped a disk, must take to casualty. Gosh how terrible! But sort of ruined our day. Starting to wonder if she will bother next time....

3rd time: 10 mins before she is due to arrive, the phone rings. I have just risked telling Boy we are going swimming, as she can't possibly cancel this late. I've spent time packing a bag, and Boy is currently crying at the front door to go swimming. She claims she thought it was yesterday and she had turned up to en empty house (I was at yet another hospital appointment). She asks me if it's ok to "not bother this week". I burst into uncontrolled tears. I've apparently finally found a way to get her here. Guilt. A wonderful time was had by all at the pool and I don't even mind her only staying with us 1.5hrs out of the arranged 3hrs. As she leaves she informs me that....

4th time: arranged to helping me attend a hospital appointment as my mum is on holiday and can't babysit. (I dislike taking Boy along for him to have to sit still and wait patiently while he watches mummy in lots of pain having needles inserted into her back for 20 mins. Perhaps not the best of childhood memories.) She tells me 4 days in advance that she is taking her dad to the doctors that day. I'm sympathetic and grateful she has (possibly) given me enough time to find a babysitter. Luckily, I do. By complete fluke, my sister is off work.

5th time: she rings tonight to cancel our swimming date tomorrow lunchtime. Dad's health again. I try to sympathise. I am overly polite through gritted teeth. Luckily, I've not packed the bag yet. I had got my hopes up though. Especially as my mum is away.

It's been pointed out to me that if I had never been offered this help, I wouldn't feel so upset/put out/angry when it doesn't arrive. Perhaps this is true. Those little words on my calendar, that I've planned my day around, wouldn't hurt so much if they had never appeared there. I am considering ringing the charity and asking for another volunteer, perhaps one with fewer commitments. They did say I could if we "clashed", but I feel I would come across as terribly ungrateful.

So I'm really not sure what to do tomorrow. Two of my friends who usually help me out lots (and thus not feel quite so guilty about asking my mum to do everything for me) are both away for the next few days, and I miss them too. Other brilliant timing: the weather has finally broken,and the rain is preventing us from going in our small but boredom-saving garden, I've been diagnosed with anemia (on Monday) and I'm still waiting for the tablets to make me feel a bit more "with it". Our huge fridge-freeze has finally given up today, and I've been frantically ringing local relatives to beg for freezer room, lest my lovingly prepared, from scratch family meals all go to waste. And I'm figuring out how to feed a family with only cupboard items......at times like these, I would usually just trot off to my mum's to get fed and for all the answers generally....god, mums are ace.

I am very reluctant to let Boy watch TV as much as he wishes while I'm in pain, partly because we would quite possibly watch upwards of 8 hours of Peppa Pig (he cries at anything else. Including when the adverts come on, and we only have so many episodes in the sky box.), but mostly because I lapsed my own rule on maximum 20 mins a day, when he was teething, and it's ONLY JUST got back to normal, i.e. not "asking" for TV all day every day and throwing massive paddies every time it's refused....it makes it harder on me in the long run.

So I'm feeling like a bit of a crappy mummy at the moment, very selfish for getting pregnant, and putting my son through such a rubbish time while I get to my due date. Especially as I knew I was very likely to get SPD in this pregnancy too. After all, mums don't get sick days.

To cheer myself up up, I'm heading over to the Brits in Bosnia to see if I can finish reading the British Mummy Bloggers Carnival before bed. You will find my post on my favored baby products on there this fortnight! I've enjoyed reading the entries so far.