Bump

Yes, I know it looks small to you. This is me at 36+2 weeks. And it is HUGE compared to what I was during labour last time. My sister who took this photo, would like me to inform you that the stone table in the background is indeed a sacrificial one, and it's where my op will take place, with me as the sacrifice, obviously. (Well my body and my sleeping habbits, at least)
Some good news: after tracking down my own actual doctor via a midwife and a mobile phone today, I have been treated like a person and had NO PROBLEM moving my cesearean forward a few days. Speaking to the right person made the world of difference. Thanks for all your comments. xx

Policies and Procedures. What about People?

Today, I went to see the consultant regarding my cesarean (and my ever worsening SPD). On Monday, whilst at hospital for SPD treatment, I double checked the correct place to go with the “helpful” receptionist, that gave the impression she had no idea that I'd booked the appointment (through her, I remembered her seeming useless at the time) and asking if it was “essential” that I saw that doctor. Or a doctor at all. I stressed that it was, that the doctor had requested the appointment herself. You can see where this is going, and it didn't bode well for my cesarean appointment.

Of course, said doctor was miraculously unavailable on the day, and the midwives were under the impression I was there for a clinic check up (which I'd been careful to attend to on the Monday,while I was already at the hospital). A different, younger, less experienced, male doctor was sourced.

I arrived in my wheelchair, having been washed and dressed by hubby that morning, in fairly huge amounts of pain. I knew the hospital's standard procedure was to do cesareans at 39 weeks. I had researched (online, books) and discussed with midwives and my physios. I was hoping to have an adult discussion about the possibility of a slightly earlier section. Even a few days would have been a relief. I am not sleeping, due to pain. I am struggling to sit upright. I cannot stand, wash, dress. Many people comment that I should be in hospital. I often cry in pain if someone accidentally touches my legs/feet. I turn 39 weeks on the Sunday. Obviously, planned cesareans are not performed at weekends. The midwife I saw on Monday assured me that I was in such a state, that to have the section in the 38th week, especially the Friday, would not be a problem if I asked. Well, apparently, it is. They refused point blank to do it before the 39th week, so the Monday it is. 39+1. Not even two days early.

At this point hubby visibly lost it and I started to cry (partly in pain from sitting upright in a wheelchair for so long while they buggered about finding a doctor). They offered to call “my” doctor and double check. The young guy is obviously just following procedures, and is not taking into account my individuality at all. My doctor could not be contacted, but she will let me know if any changes to the decision are made.

37 weeks is considered full term. I have been having braxton hicks for two days now. I don't want to have a baby rushed to special care, but I am very ill. Apparently, my health, welfare and general stress levels (and that of my poor mother, husband and son who are bearing the brunt of my care and illness) is completely irrelevant as long as they cover their asses so that I don't sue. Nice. I feel like a fucking incubator, not a person. I do care, so much, about the baby's health, that's why I stopped taking my medication a week before they advised I'd need to. And the baby's health is the ONLY thing getting me through the day. The thought of holding him or her, and it all being over. Being able to recover. I just cannot see how I will get from now to then. Every day, I wake up (after a maximum of 4 hours sleep) worse than when I went to bed. And every night, I go to bed feeling worse than I did that morning. Three weeks to go. It doesn't sound like a lot to a health person. But I can't see beyond my next dose of paracetamol, for all the bloody good it does. All I can hope is that the baby spontaneously decided to be early....like tomorrow!

All Quiet on the Blogging front

Hello lovely readers. I just thought I would let you know that I may be a bit sporadic on the posting business for a while: my SPD has worsened and I've had to move in with my mum (who has a spare downstairs bathroom and bedroom, so I not longer have to crawl upstairs, which is, honestly, what I've been having to do.) Plus I need her on hand for help with the Boy, who I literally can no longer lift, and thus can't get him into his cot for naps, highchair for meals, changing table for nappy changes....you get the idea. So although the internet is readily available here (to a point, I don't want to seem anti-social & it is a family PC) I am also stuggling to sit upright withough being in pain (standing not much fun either, and walking a total joke), so much time spent lying on the sofa being an invalid, grrrr. Feel quite chuffed I've already packed my hospital bag and won't have to trust someone else to do it for me, and that my freezer is packed with nutritious home-made meals for my return from hospital and those newborn days....so what we we have to use them now and live off take-aways later?? Bit worried about leaving the veg garden/fish/cat under the part-time supervision of HID...not much I can do! Boy is luckily very happy to be at Nanna's, and has settled in very well, even sleeping quite well too. I will try and keep on top of my google reader, but my passion for commenting may well slip...sorry in advance! It is very stange typing on a proper keyboard after so long on my tiny notebook, sorry for any errors!

I'm going to hospital to have a baby (by cesarean section) and I'm taking......

A bit like that memory game: I'm going shopping and I'm going to buy....Here is my hospital bag list (it's almost ALL in there too) and the reasons, as a second time mum, why I've chosen these items. Please, please leave your comment below if you have any other ideas, things you took, or wished you had, when you had your baby. Especially if you had a cesarean, this is my first time having one!

For baby:

My pouch sling. I want to carry the baby a lot anyway, but last time I was a bit confused as to whether it was ok to leave the baby in a cot on the ward while I went for a wee.....this time I will just take baby along! And I may still be on crutches anyway, I was last time, so carrying can be difficult when you need both hands for something else.

Several (blue, as my first was a boy, not point buying til we know!) vests and babygrows: some in “newborn” size, and some in “early baby” size: none in 0-3m. Even “newborn” didn't fit Boy for at least a month!

Packet of “nature babycare” bio-degradable, eco-friendly nappies. We intend to use cotton nappies when I'm feeling a little better after the op, and these are the next best thing (you can even put a few wet ones in your home compost bin: decomposing above ground does not produce harmful methane like landfills do. Just remember to not use nappy bags, (or use the nature babycare ones): they will take much longer to decompose, wherever you put them, wrapped in a plastic bag). They sell them in Boots and larger Tescos, same price a huggies & pampers, just not on offer as often.

Muslin cloths & nappy cloths (the inside bit of the nappies, which look like big dishcloths when not folded), for laying baby on to change nappies, to wipe up wees, poos, sick, milk, and to use as a shoulder-guard when winding baby upon your shoulder. An invaluable must. Still useful (essential!) at 20 months old.

Scratch mitts. Boy was a scratcher. We also may buy some babygros with mitts attached, (matalan) as they never stay on!

Me:

My usual toiletries, including a new perfumed (Bright Crystal) moisturizer my mum got me (in a set) to take to hospital to pamper myself. I wonder if I'll get time? What a lovely present, nonetheless.

Nettle & Peppermint tea: nettle for boosting milk supply, and peppermint for the painful trapped wind cesarean patients often get a few days after the birth. Don't want to be going through extra pain unnecessarily!

Brand new tommee tippee hand breast pump and little (closer to nature) bottle. We had breastfeeding difficulties last time, and I suspect a major operation will not make it easier...always be prepared! My Boy rifled through my bag the other day, picked up the breast pump (while I was on the phone) and said “toot toot!” into the boob bit, as though it was a trumpet! Almost dropped the phone.

Stretchy gauze hospital knickers: bought from the NCT website, most comfy things EVER! Apparently, can be washed up to 10 times.

Nursing bras in huge sizes. They were all too small last time....

Reusable breast pads

Lansinoh nipple cream...hoping to get it on prescription, it's quite expensive but oh-so worth it.

Maternity/breastfeeding nightwear. Don't bother with a dressing gown. Too hot on the wards.

Bottles of lucuzade & a bottle of cordial. I don't do water, and need to keep hydrated for breastfeeding!

“The Food of Love: your guide to successful breastfeeding” by Kate Evans. Checkout my review. Hospital bag essential.

For the operation:

Jane Green's new paperback (my 2nd fave chick lit author) for the possibly long wait for surgery. And, also useful for endless breastfeeding, as you have a free arm!

Blooming Birth by Lucy Atkins & Julia Guderian. It has a chapter on cesareans, and I found it invaluable last time to stop me feeling so scared of labour. It's an amazing read. Mine is excessively dog-eared, highlighted and stuffed with post-its.

Rescue Remedy pastilles & frankincense essential oil: to keep me relaxed as I have my tummy sliced open....

Travel sickness bands: for possible nausea caused by the epidural.

Camera & tripod: for taking pics minus the (inevitable) shaking hands. And possibly get one of all 3 of us, with timer, without having to ask the midwife.

Music: I've left it to HID to choose. He chose our wedding first dance and I loved it. So did the guests, although no one had ever heard of “The Bees”!

My birth plan.

Cesarean support belt (can be heated or cooled), bought for 99p from ebay!

Then I also had a genius idea of packing a second bag. Last time I stayed in for four days, and felt I came out too early, so this time, depending on how busy the ward is & how I feel, I intend to stay longer. But, HID is not great at being asked to bring extra things in (that require knowing where we keep the clothes and other apparently non-essential items), so I'm packing another bag, with “extra” everything in it, and mine and baby's going home clothes. (Just a tip, pack very baggy and comfy clothes to go home in. You will be sore and car journeys are not comfortable). So I can literally give him a bag full of washing (which he will probably get my mum to do), and ask him to bring in the other bag, knowing it will have spare nappies, maternity towels and everything, already in it. So he can't mess it up!

Help: your cesarean experiences/ideas!

In a week, I will be seeing the consultant who is performing my cesarean. I've read as much as I can about the procedure, and I've crafted sort of a birth plan-cum-list of questions for the doctor, as I want to be prepared for what will happen to me and the baby, and hopefully have some control, and have a positive birth experience. I want it to be special, not terrifying like last time. I am a little squeamish, and I'm not much looking forward to the surgery itself. Can you think of anything I've missed out? What would you ask? What happened at your cesarean birth? I am a little nervous now, please help by leaving your comments.

How long after the operation will I be unfit to drive?

How long after the birth is my husband allowed to stay with us? (e.g. if c-section is done “after hours”)

Do you have “clip on cots” for surgery patients?

I would like to spend a few days of my recovery time at the local midwifery unit. When can I be transferred?

Can a midwife or the surgeon please narrate the operation, so I know what is going on.

Screen to be lowered at the moment of birth

Lights to be dimmed at the moment of birth, to calm baby

Can we take photographs in the theatre when the baby arrives? Is it ok to ask a midwife/other staff to take a picture of all three of us?

Can we have music on while the birth takes place?

Husband to discover the sex of the baby when it is born.

Baby to be quickly wiped, but passed to me unwrapped and naked.

I would like my hospital gown to be put on backwards so that I can have skin to skin contact with baby (if s/he is well) as soon as baby is born. And possibly some help to breastfeed in the table,if baby wants to.

If baby needs to be taken away for medical attention, husband to accompany baby.

To have the resuscitation unit & weighing scales in sight, and if possible, have the weighing delayed while we cuddle the baby for a while. Ditto washing & dressing, can this be done on the ward, after baby's first feed?

To keep baby with me in the recovery room.

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!

Phew!

I've finally managed to sort out whatever horrible mistake I made when editing my blog template, yey! Of course, that's thanks to the British Mummy Blogger's site, ask a stupid question, and you will get a helpful answer. And nobody thinks you're stupid. (Or at least they don't say it out loud...). So I've got a new look around here! But I've lost some of the changes I made, such as my blogroll, so I will try and edit them back in as and when I can.

Now I can get back to posting! There is a little question I've been wanting to ask my readers.My cesarean section is about 6 weeks away (I get a firm date in 2 weeks), and I was wondering if anyone out there (or your partner) has had a cesarean? What can I do to make it a positive birth experience? Have you any tips,for the day itself, and the recovery? Anything you wish you'd known/asked about/done differently?

I do plan to have my gown on backwards, so we can have skin to skin contact straight away, the screen lowered at the moment of birth, a midwife take a photograph....and for the recovery, I've bought arnica tablets and cream, my fabulous mother is taking my toddler out of my hair 7am-lunchtime, 5 days a week for 8 weeks, and my mother-in-law is staying with us in some of the early days to help too. Any other suggestions?

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.

Breastfeeding pride

It's national breastfeeding awareness week! I've been wondering why I've been reading so many posts about breastfeeding, and I found out today. Yesterday, the midwife at aquanatal told us all about a free pampering session at our local children's centre today, for mums and mums to be. It turned out to be as part of the breastfeeding network group I attended a few times (and became friendly with a few of the volunteers), and put on in honor of national breastfeeding awareness week. Who can really say no to a free indian head massage and all the crumpets and cake one can eat without looking a pig? So I celebrated in style, especially since Boy was with Nana this morning due to another hospital appointment....

I asked at the group for any advice on things to do differently this time round, as I only managed 4 weeks exclusive breastfeeding with Boy (during which he became skeletal, despite feeding on demand, and topping up with expressed milk), and 4 months combined breast and formula. I say "only", because if I had my way, I'd still be feeding him. I loved (almost) every second and fully intended to feed him up to and beyond the 12 month guidelines. Still, today, 14 months after giving up breastfeeding, tears choked my words as I talked to the volunteers. I do wonder if I'll ever get over the guilt I feel for not being able to sustain my baby with my own milk (due to a genuine health condition, unlike me, almost 100% of women can make enough milk if supply is boosted by varying techniques. All of which were exhausted by me). I feel less guilty than I did at the time....

In my logical head, I know that every day makes a difference to your baby, the NHS slogan of choice. And my own doctor insisted the first two weeks were the most vital, and I managed that! But I can never quieten the mother inside me whose sole ambition as to nurture her baby, and she failed. I remember my mum coming to visit me when Boy was a month old with a tin of formula, crying, and begging me to feed my baby. She had been the one who noticed his tummy rumbling constantly....I just thought babies tummies must do that, he was my first!

I know,in my brain, that I made the right choice to feed my baby with formula, but my heart just can't hear the reasons.

I do intend to breastfeed the new baby, and although the specialist said it is very likely that my condition will remain the same,it's not a dead cert. And I know this time to force myself to ignore the formula-guilt, and combine if/when it becomes apparent that baby is hungrier than it needs to be.

The volunteers at the group told me that I did everything I could last time, I couldn't have done a better job. HID pointed out that he has been saying that for upwards of a year, but that's why I married him, he says all the right things. It seemed more comforting to hear it from a pro-breastfeeding stranger.

As I left, a volunteer I knew quite well insisted I take her phone number, and to text her when the baby was born. She is coming to the hospital to help me establish breastfeeding. "The midwives are often too busy to do much more than check your latch. I'll stay with you until you get it right." I almost cried. The woman has no idea how much relief washed over me as she wrote down her number. I did get help last time,but this time I'm feeling fully armed.

By the way, the picture at the top? Checkout mama merit badges.
Even if you managed one feed, stop beating yourself up and feel proud: you breastfed your baby. There is no need to feel guilty that you didn't feed up until school age. All those fellow breastfeeders out there, well done!

Giving thanks

I moan a lot. Just ask HID, he'll tell you. I like a good moan, people feeling sorry for me, woe is me. Yes, I'm hobbling on crutches while 22wks pregnant and looking after a bouncing 17m old mostly by myself 6am-6pm. But it's not really that bad is it?

With my Boy, I had a horrible pregnancy (morning sickness BPT [before pregnancy test] up until 7 months gestation, SPD,which ended in me being housebound for 2months, from 6 months til Boy was a month old), a terrible labour and birth (26 hours of "back labour" followed by 3rd degree tearing and 4 hrs in surgery), a horrible post-partum (surgeons eventually realised I'd been stitched up "wrong" when I could still barely walk months after giving birth and was "cut open" to "start again", and sat on a rubber ring til Boy was 6m, couldn't leave the house til he was 4m, plus breastfeeding issues meant Boy was boarderline dangerously underweight in the early days, there are skeletal photos I've just had to destroy). And of course, probably due to all of this, Boy was by no means contented, or an "easy" baby until he was at LEAST 6 months old.

But other than the weight issues (which were my fault, and stemmed from being hopelessly determined to breastfeed), at no point was there ever any health problems with my son, and nor has there been since really. I may have felt like shit while pregnant, but there was never any risk to baby. I may have been in pain during and after labour, but my Boy wasn't.

I have a healthy, happy and perfect little boy, and I am truly the luckiest Mummy alive. He can smile and laugh. He can make a joke. He can run about. He can eat, he can swim.

So when people are horrified when they find out I am pregnant again, so soon, after my "terrible time", I tell them; this is how you get babies. There is no other way.

So I might be hobbling til baby arrives, and a c-section is major surgery, I won't bounce back. But, if I'm very lucky, I'll have another healthy child to love, to welcome into our busy, happy home.

Bump Envy

(Photograph not of me, but by Karen: http://www.redfrogphotography.com)
I am 21 weeks pregnant, and I don't have much of a bump. In comparison to last time however, it is positively huge, and resembles the size it was when I was 8 months pregnant last time. Strangers did not realise I was pregnant, so I completely missed out on the whole, lovely, chivalry towards pregnant women thing. No-one helped me with shopping, held open doors, or gave up seats. Except when I used my crutches to ease my strained pregnancy ligaments. Then it was all; "What have you done to your leg, love?". Me, (through gritted teeth) : "Nothing, I'm just pregnant." So although, this pregnancy, my bump, again, isn't big by anyone's standards really, it's lovely to me, and I'm rather proud of doing the opposite of what I've been doing for the past 6 years, and sticking my tummy out for all to see.

However, on attending an aqua-natal class for bumpy ladies like myself, I was rather disappointed to see, yet again that my bump was by far the most minuscule of the lot. Even in my skin-tight, non-maternity swimming costume, where it's nowhere to hide, it is rather pitiful. But what I didn't need for my bump-paranoia was this scenario.

Bumpy ladies all exiting the warm "baby pool" after ending the class with five minutes of relaxation, passing a small class of pre-schoolers (and parents) waiting to get in. One mummy using the opportunity for a bit of birds and bees education, and explaining to her son that all these ladies had babies growing in their tummies. Ahhh. He pointed directly at me and said very loudly: "She's not!"

The mummy smiled apologetically, but it was of little comfort. Perhaps he thought I'd simply eaten all the pies...

Are you sitting comfortably? Well, actually, no...

This is not what I'd planned to write about today, but I'm feeling a bit sad about it all and hoped writing might help. In my previous pregnancy with Boy, towards the end I suffered with a condition called SPD (symphysis pubic dysfunction) causing pain in my hips and legs. I required the use of crutches, a handsome support band and acupuncture. It made my labour HELL ON EARTH, as from about 8 hours in (it lasted around 50) I stopped being able to tell the difference between a contraction and SPD pain, so it was like one long contraction. (And the gas & air and pethidine didn't even touch it).

But I digress. This time, I knew I was more likely to suffer again, but I had been lulled into a false sense of security by my short lived morning sickness (just two weeks instead of the previous seven and a half months), and seemed to be having a blissed-out pregnancy.

Two weeks ago, (at just 16 weeks pregnant) while HID was away visiting family, my SPD kicked in while I bathed my Boy and I got "stuck" on the bathroom floor. As soon as Monday rolled around, I was at the midwife's, being booked in for physio, for which I only had to wait a week and a bit. Very impressive for the NHS.

I attended my appointment today, and described my biggest causes of pain, sitting on the floor to play, carrying my 15 month old who only took his first steps a week ago (it will be quite some time before he is a truly independent walker). She told me that under no circumstances am I to sit on the floor, in any position, to play with my baby. I choked back tears as I told her I understood. My Boy won't understand though. I'm going to seem like such a mean Mummy, not joining in his games and expecting him to play alone, with just a spectator for company.

Standing one one leg (i.e. putting more weight on one side of the pelvis than the other) is also a major no-no, and since when walking, you stand one one leg, then the other, then the other etc., I am also banned from any non-necessary walking. This is an outrageous shame, not least because Boy has just started walking, but also as I view walking as a free, healthy and enjoyable hobby, that gets us all out of the house. Plus the weather seems to be thinking about being spring.

So now I sit, writing this, on a straight backed dining chair that must replace my reckless lounging on the sofa (which would involve an uneven distribution of weight), already rather bored of putting both feet flat on the floor, it seems so unnatural to sit with my legs uncrossed.

Has anyone out there reading had SPD, perhaps with toddler in tow, any tips to save my sanity, and my overwhelming Mummy-guilt that saw me almost cry in the physio's office today?

Grown.

Pregnancy symptoms strike again

Over Easter weekend, my boy developed some long awaited (by me) skills in the walking department (I am most unwilling to carry one baby on each hip in the presence of a toddler that doesn't actually toddle). So to celebrate/hone his new skills, we high-tailed it to the nearest beach, where we were pleasantly surprised to find a wide expanse of short, flat grass leading down to the sand, filled with picnicking, playing families. A perfect place for toddle-practice.

When little legs could waddle no more, a pub lunch was in order, to satiate our growing belly-growls, so we popped into a quiet-looking place, and I ordered fish and chips for me, and bangers and mash for HID (the idea being Boy would share a little of both), while Boy got a tour of the pub, concentrating mostly on the flashing lights of the bandits.


As I waited for our drinks order at the bar, I became aware of a most familiar and horrible sensation; I was feeling faint, and as the feeling progressed to popping white light before my eyes, I knew I had but a few seconds before I hit the deck. I looked around for HID, not near enough to shout. Our seats were 10 or more paces away, not enough time to make it. The drinks arrived as I gripped the bar, I clasped my hand round one drink, hoping to not look like too much of an idiot if I turned and joined the party directly behind me, the closest empty seat.

I seem to remember the bar maid asking if I was all right, then I opened my eyes to find I was covered in coke and HID was standing over me, holding my boy, looking concerned, livid and mortified all at once. I was guided to the chair I had been aiming for, and realised the bar stool that lay on the floor must be the reason why my shins hurt so much. And my elbow, and hip, head and bottom. I must have crashed into it on the way down. Everyone was looking. I must have gone down like a sack of spuds! Inwardly, I was groaning, but as I spoke,my voice was shaky and tearful.

I managed to shake off everyone's concerns and eat my late lunch in relative peace, the real reason, I suspect, for my over-dramatic swooning.

Writing this post two days later, I am still feeling decidedly wobbly at times, and my bumps and bruises have come up a treat, making it hard work even playing on the floor with my boy. Perhaps a doctor's visit is in order....

Grown.

Bun in The Oven

About ten weeks ago, when HID and I had thrown (pre)caution(s) to the wind for approximately three weeks, with regards to expanding our little family, I'd had enough of the nagging, and had agreed to take a pregnancy test. He was right, my period was late, but I just wanted to relax and go with the flow this time we were trying to get pregnant, and not becoming the scary, uptight nutter who thought she'd never conceive.

So when I climbed the stairs, and he called softly after me: "Don't worry if it's not positive." I replied, "I won't..." and added inside my own head, "...because I already know I'm pregnant." And I was!

I'd trudged upstairs, done the business, and left the stick to "cook" for the alloted time, because a watched stick never boils. My boy, safely tucked up in bed at this hour, began to cry, and required settling for quite some time. When I emerged from his nursery, HID was waiting in the hall.
"Was it positive?" he asked.

I began to explain where I had been, and that some brands of test were invalid if too much time is allowed to lapse before reading the result. While I spoke, I picked up the positive test and noted the result, to myself.
"I assume it was negative then..." he continued, as I seemed to be talking myself out of it.

"It's positive!" I breathe quietly outside boy's room. HID grasps my body in a desperately excited hug, even more so than when I announced boy's imminent arrival. We check the pack instructions for ourselves, the result is valid, we're going to have a baby!

Grown.

Pregnancy Pitfalls

One of the delightful "symptoms" of pregnancy that no-one tells you about beforehand (unlike morning sickness and piles) is the general lack of braincells one encounters as an expectant mother. I swear, my offspring eats braincells for breakfast. This not only results in a memory to rival an elderly amnesiac's and a tendency to make many, for want of a better word, "blond" utterances, but also an frighteningly extreme clumsiness.

A week in the life of a pregnant woman: (this actually all happened in one week, although I haven't had a week this bad since)

Monday: Think I am being a wonderful housewife by taking my mother's advice and opening all the windows this morning to get that wonderful autumn breeze inside and the stale winter smell outside. While chatting on the phone to a friend, I realise too late that I should have moved the vase my mother-in-law gave us from in front of the open window first (pregnant women are omitted from the common sense gene) and it smashes to the ground. Oooops. Freudian slip methinks?

Tuesday: After Monday's fiasco, decide not to use mine and hubby's brand new and lovely hand painted dinner service just to defrost chicken breasts in the microwave. Instead, somewhat misguidedly choose and "old" plate that happens to belong to my mother-in-law. (Are you seeing a pattern? She does live with us, I've not gone out of my way to visit her to borrow a plate.) Upon removing the slimy fillets from the microwave, I get that slow-mo feeling as the plate slips from my grip and crashes against the tiled floor. I was able to salvage the chicken with a quick wash, and thank god I didn't break any of the tiles, but MIL's plate was only fit for the bin.

Wednesday: Had an extra cautious day. Didn't let my guard down once.

Thursday: Another of MIL's plates bit the dust. Freud would love me.

Friday: Went food shopping with mum, asked her to remind me to get tartar sauce for HID as a treat on his fish fingers that evening. (Gosh I'm such a gourmet whiz). We forgot, and I rushed back for a jar when at the checkouts, I felt it was that integral to the meal. When making said meal, I spend time looking for the jar that I had earlier "hidden" (as I said, the memory's not up to much), which was actually perched precariously on top of the tins I was surveying and removing from the cupboard. As I chose the tin with the jar on top, I did not notice it's extra weight and spun round to put it down beside me to continue searching. The jar, unsupported, thus launched across the kitchen and smashed into splinters and mush on the tiled floor. HID heard me cry out in frustration, as we now had no sauce, and came to my rescue. He remarked later (with me in a less murderous state of mind) that it looked as though I had deliberately thrown the jar, as it was miles from the cupboard I was looking in. He still doesn't understand how it happened. He didn't even ask if I needed help, he just cleaned up the gooey mess then and there, I was in no fit state to attempt it. (Blame that on the hormones). We make do with ketchup for our fish fingers.

Saturday: Find a jar of tartar sauce I'd bought ages ago in the back of a different cupboard. Give me strength!

Grown.

Who's the Daddy!

A week ago, I had my 24 week midwife appointment, which unfortunately HID couldn't attend, even though he's dying to hear the baby's heartbeat on the dopler machine. All was very well, healthy and normal. When the midwife started to check the baby's heartbeat with the dopler, the funniest thing happened, the baby kicked it away! This didn't just happen once but twice, which gave me the giggles, and made it very hard for the midwife to actually get a good listen!

Anyway, I thought that since the baby was now big enough to kick the midwife away, surely HID could feel the kicks too? I'd even thought I'd SEEN the baby kick a few times now! When I told HID what had happened at the midwife's later in bed, he obviously thought the same thing and put his hand onto my tummy. Within a few seconds, the baby moved right under his hand:

ME: There! Did you feel it?

HID: Yes!

a short passage of time....

ME: Again, there...

HID: Yes, right at the tips of my fingers!

Which is exactly where it had been! We rolled together, and he hugged me as tightly as he did the day we found out I was pregnant. Even though it was 11pm, and we were in darkness, HID reached for his phone. I knew instantly what he was doing: he was updating his status on facebook. This is what he wrote:

HID is very excited about becoming a Dad as just felt the baby kick for the first time!

How sweet is that?

Grown.

Mini-break

My ever-thoughtful husband, aka HID, booked a romantic getaway the other week. I had been feeling a little off-colour with my pregnancy, having to spend the best part of a week in bed (well, not really the best part as that's the weekend!), so he decided to treat me to two days and a night in Leeds, in what he described as a "posh" hotel. I'd thought he'd meant posh by our standards, not the bloody Queen's! Although it was divine, I've warned him not to burn money like that again! We stayed in the 19th floor, the views from the two (count them) panoramic windows were breathtaking (especially for a vertigo sufferer like me) as you can tell from my pic, as artistically taken by HID. The bed, well, you know how normal king size beds have two pillows laid across them? This had room for three, set side by side, huge it was! I barely touched HID all night! I bet that wasn't what he'd had in mind...Oh and I get so excited about all the little freebies, and we got so many! A fruit basket, different teas and coffees, toothbrushes, slippers, shaving kit!!! All fully taken advantage of and taken home, even though we probably don't need them. (Although they make great additions to my already packed hospital bag). We did have a worry about whether the slippers were ours to take.....obviously the robes were rather a large item, that is definitely stealing, but what of slippers? We debated, and decided to live on the edge and take them anyway!

We got glammed up, as I do at the slightest excuse to do so, and had dinner out in a pretty posh place, the Spice Quarter, which serves freshly made dishes in a buffet style, choosing from Italian, Thai, Chinese and Indian, even the fussiest eater could find food heaven there! An ideal place to take a pregnant woman really. In the end, HID had to ask for the bill while I was in the ladies, he said it was for our own good, before we burst.

As we left the restaurant, we heard gorgeous music drifting towards us from a tent erected in the town square...upon a little investigation we were purchasing tickets to a live jazz concert right on our doorstep! The tent ceiling was draped beautifully in dark cloths and twinkle lights, just as stunning as the city night's sky, but without the light pollution.

On the walk home, HID chivalrously shielded me and baby bump from worse-for-wear hen and stag parties, and back in our room we slipped into our hotel robes and just starred out of the window for ages, I even got brave enough to sit on the window sill. Later, I ran us a bubble bath (using the freebies!) in the gorgeous, glamorous bathroom.

Being in my condition, I have unavoidably gained weight. (Though perhaps I could have avoided gaining quite this much, but I swear the baby craves chocolate!) HID got in first, and I was cautiously dismayed at the amount of water my body displaced as I joined him in the tub. I relaxed back onto him (thus avoiding having to endure taps in my back), gently, aware of my newly ample frame. Eventually, he relaxed into me (he is not a fan of baths, showers, being clean in general, it's like having a teenage boy around) and we soaked. A while later, we gets out, leaving me enjoy the bath on my own. As he turned around to grab a towel, I noticed that his usually delicious bottom had a circular, red mark, spanning both cheeks! I couldn't stifle my giggles, and he blamed it on having my weight pressing down on him for so long. I couldn't hold in my squeals of laughter as he bent down for his freebie slippers and his balls became visible swinging between his legs, he looked like a baboon! I had never seen a more unattractive sight, I told him it was lucky I loved him. I finished my bath giggling to myself, and then climbed into bed next to my romantic baboon....

Grown.

Daddy's girl (or boy!)

As I previously posted, I have experienced a few flutterings of the baby moving for about a month now, but nothing especially regular or strong. In fact at one stage, because of all the pains I'd been having I was worried something was wrong as it seemed to stop for a few days, but the scan confirmed everything was ok.

The other night, HID and I were in bed chatting, and he put his hand on my tummy, and the baby kicked so hard! Every time he moved his hand, the baby followed him and kicked underneath it, it was so exciting. Unfortunately, I'm quite well insulated, so HID was unable to feel these kicks himself, but it now happened every time he touches my tummy!

The books say that this week specifically the baby starts to react to pressure, which was obviously what was going on, but we loved it!

I've informed HID that now the baby's hearing is improving, so he should talk to the baby so s/he can get used to his voice too. HID thinks it's highly amusing to put his mouth actually OVER my belly (as though he is going to blow a raspberry) and talk in a stupidly loud and echo-y voice to the baby. Well, s/he is not going to know what the hell Daddy is supposed to sound like!

Grown.

The Joys of Pregnancy...

Before I start, I'd just like to say how excited I am about being a mum, and how longed for this baby is, and how very lucky I am to be pregnant at all, let alone with such a healthy baby. Now that's been said, I will go on to write a little about how much of a pain in the bum my pregnancy has been! It seems that my body is determined to have every symptom in the book. Or perhaps, as the psychologist in me would point out, I have subconsciously "adopted" ailments from doing far too much reading and research. Hmmmm.

Since before I took a test, I have been green with nausea literally every day (alright, some days it's not ALL day, but it is every day at some point) The books/midwives/doctors assure me this will have work off by week 12. Well, here I am in week 20, and although I am now able to consume more than toast and dry cereal, I still feel sick. My Nan has forbidden me from wearing black or standing against pale backgrounds as I look like a sheet most days.

That's not all folks! Literature/midwives/doctors tell me an unlucky minority of women experience cramps/stretching/period-type growing pains in their tummy due to the stretching of the womb. Being a vertically challenged person with what the midwife described as a "very good sized" uterus, I am of this minority, making it agony to walk more than a few steps. This is attributed to my body telling me to "slow down". How slow can you go?! So I am no longer able to work, and barely able to keep on top of the housework, I feel a right lazy cow. Thank god for Loose Women.... This problem even affected my 20 week scan, which was agony, as the sonographer had to press pretty firmly on my tender tum. I didn't enjoy it at all, in fact, I couldn't wait for it to be over!

Furthermore, shooting pains in my pelvis ring alarm bells for later pelvis problems, the books say to keep my legs together at all times if at all possible. Poor HID, as if I haven't gone off sex enough! But not this advice ensures walking up stairs takes approx 10 mins, same for getting in and out of a car. Handy for quick gettaways.....

The final of my joys of pregnancy checklist is copious nosebleeds. Now I have to be very wary about this as I have already ruined bedsheets and towels. This is apparently normal (!) though freaky. The other day I was washing my hair over the bath, with my eyes closed so I didn't get suds in them. So before I had even realised I was having a nosebleed, the bath was, well, a bloodbath, I was covered from head to toe in splatters, as was the entire bathroom. Needless to say, I was not much in the mood for cleaning.

I like to keep my friends updated on my little humorous woes, I am apparently the best contraceptive they have ever come across. One friend in particular said something quite funny: "God, this baby had better be cute!"

Grown.

Butterfly Flutterings

At the start of the week, I jumped in my car and put the stereo on loud when I had a funny sensation in my tummy. Gurgling of the pregnant digestive system? "Period" type pains the doctor had okayed as normal? (What a jip, aren't I supposed to get nine months off?) I couldn't decide. I didn't seem like anything to worry about, so I carried on. And I carried on getting these sensations a few times a day.

A few days later, I checked my pregnant cousin's facebook page, her status informed me she was "being kicked and prodded from the inside out". She is 20 weeks pregnant, I am 15, so I asked her when she began to feel movement, she said around week 15! An explanation for what I felt? I decided to wait til I felt it again. She herself said she wasn't sure that's what it was til week 17 or 18.

So yesterday, HID took me shopping for a treat. In topshop, we always split: me to the sales, him to topman. I had chosen and tried on a gorgeous jade green maternity tankini (£12 in the sale), and considering a butterfly hairclip, when suddenly, there were butterfly flutterings very low down in my tummy! I went to find HID to tell him, and a huge grin spread across his face and he kissed me hard. He bought me the clip.

Later, in a cafe for dinner, I felt it again. And twice at home when I was chilling out. Babies move when they are happy, or so I've read. This is my kind of baby, I'm getting responses from shopping, food, and relaxing. Baby's going to be just like mummy! Uh-oh!

Grown.