Archive for the ‘pregnancy’ Category

Pregnancy was good for my looks: my hair got thicker, my skin cleared up and I slimmed down with all my weight shifting onto my bump.  Even those first few post-pregnancy months weren’t too bad.  I may have had dark circles under my eyes and baby sick on my shoulder but the hair, and the skin, they made up for it. Read the rest of this entry »

I noticed the first contraction at about a quarter to four in the morning. When it had passed, I got up, went to the bathroom (because when you’re pregnant you never waste a chance) and stumbled back into bed. I dozed a little, but it was hard to the background of the husband’s snoring. Fifteen minutes later another one woke me up. I went through the same routine but before slumber came anywhere close, I decided that I’d never get any sleep and told the husband I was getting up. Cue panic until I reassured him we’d have hours yet and I’d only be downstairs, on the birthing ball, reading blogs anyway. I promised to wake him when things had sped up a little. After all, he’d got a birth pool to fill.

So I bounced and wiggled, read a few blog posts, downloaded a contraction monitor for my phone. Then I decided that if we were going to have people round, it might be a good idea to tidy up a little. So I did. The contractions got closer together, then further apart (just to confuse me). Then they got even closer together. I still couldn’t decide if I should call the midwife because although, at their closest, the contractions were less than five minutes apart, at their furthest they were definitely more than five minutes.

Figuring I should probably call either way, I woke the husband up and let him panic. Yeah, that was exactly what I’d hoped to avoid by having a home birth in the first place. Still, once he’d collected himself I put him to use filling the birth pool and gathering together a few bits whilst I made the call. Short and sweet. All I had to do was wait for the midwife who’d be coming over to call back. She did and I let her know what was happening. I was still standing; all was good.

Of course at that point the pain that had been manageable for much worse very quickly. And so did the noise. Because it seemed productive to moan quite a bit, especially when my body was telling me to push but my mind was figuring it probably wasn’t the best idea until I was told to do so. And that woke the boy up. He came in, took one look at me and said ‘mum, is the baby coming?’ I sent him downstairs suggesting that daddy could put the TV on for him and carried on trying not to make too much noise. Of course you can guess that I probably wasn’t too successful.

The boys took the baby through to the bedroom whilst my second degree tear (ouch!) got stitched up and I grabbed a shower then I got to meet our new boy. By that point the boy had decided the Xbox was much more interesting and I got to sit down with the baby and a cup of tea. Perfect! Best of all, hearing a shout from the boy downstairs: ‘I’m going to play with my baby brother!’ He ran upstairs to see us, but decided again that the game might be a better option.

We may have been slightly cruel in our next move, but the mother in law had been fairly annoying for the past three weeks with her constant calls to find out if anything was happening. We were expecting her later that morning as she was picking up the boy to take him to his cousin’s birthday party. So we didn’t bother to call and tell her that the baby had arrived. When she pulled up outside I was on the sofa with the baby in his basket in front of me. The blinds were open so she could see in. I sent the husband out to greet her and he told her to keep quiet because of the baby. She does have a tendency to scream when she gets excited. Of course she didn’t believe him. She walked straight through the door, said hello to me and looked right past her new grandson. Then the work began to stop her screaming.

It was definitely a tiring morning. The mother in law and the step father in law had bought the boy’s cousin along with them and she is just hard work. Having just turned one, she’s in to absolutely everything. Now we may have managed to tidy up earlier that morning, but being the house of two Lego addicts, there are still too many small pieces around here. And boy was she in to them. Unfortunately I was in no state to go chasing after her, the step father in law was firmly rooted to the sofa and the mother in law was far too taken with her new grandson to pay her granddaughter any attention. Where was the husband? He’d been sent down to the supermarket to get a roast chicken and french bread, because clearly ham sandwiches just weren’t good enough. I was shattered by the time they left, having filled the kitchen sink with washing up and left more mess than there was before they arrived. Nothing new there then.

The sister came over later on that afternoon. For once it was a peaceful visit; she didn’t do anything to provoke the husband into hyperactivity and he didn’t attempt to wind her up. Usually they act like pre-teen brothers and sisters fighting away.

Once she’d gone I managed to start the laundry we’d accumulated that morning and do the washing up. I convinced the husband that it might be a good idea to try a little more tidying. It would’ve been nice if he’d offered to do the washing up but instead he figured that taking pictures would be a good idea. I guess you can never really take him away from that camera!

It was pizza for dinner and the latest night I’d had in weeks. Despite everything, I didn’t really feel that tired. Really it would’ve made sense to head to bed early but then common sense has never been my strong point. Still, it didn’t seem to matter too much; the baby was still not feeding that much so I managed to get a half decent night’s sleep and definitely one better than I’d had for months seeing as I didn’t have to keep getting up to use the bathroom.

Sunday the parents and grandparents came over for lunch, bringing all the food with them and even doing the washing up! The sister in law and brother in law brought the boy back and after the whole long weekend, were kind enough to only stay around long enough to take a few photos.

It was good to end the weekend with my three boys together for the first time.

Monday saw the husband doing the most inconvenient work I’ve seen him do in weeks. Considering that it could’ve been put off until later with a little thought, I was not amused. Day three, not tending to be one of the better days of a person’s first week post-pregnancy, I was not happy by the time I’d done the supermarket on my own because he was still working even after us having been to get the boy from school. I slept (a wonderful way of avoiding things) and ranted but woke up the next morning feeling much better.

We’ve done a few firsts: first shopping trip; first trip down to my parents. We’re getting on well. Mr A is, for the most part, incredibly easy going. The only catch being his feeding times. No, I’m not talking about sleepless nights (which don’t seem to be so sleepless after all) but daytimes. They just don’t seem to be able to work around the school run. We’re working on that one this week, figuring out some sort of schedule. Our first attempt this morning was miserable – I managed to drag myself out of bed for the first feed of the morning but someone just wouldn’t wake up. We’ve looked at the timings and we’re going to try again tomorrow morning. We’ll get there in the end. Lucky that the husband works from home so that even if it takes a while, we’re still covered.

I’m hoping that this week I can get back on the computer a bit more. I started off last week with it on in the background but in the end it’s just been turned off. I’ve definitely missed spending my day on twitter, but even as easy-going as Mr A is, he still takes a lot of time. It’ll all come together in the end though. And we’re all a lot better placed than last time around.

Monday was time for the midwife to come around again.  I could have gotten used to these home visits much earlier on in my pregnancy.  You can sit there with your cuppa, you don’t spend forever in an overheated hospital waiting room and you get to pee on a stick, not in a cup, all in the comfort of your own (clean) bathroom.

All is still well, although my blood pressure has jumped (luckily it’s been very low all along so it’s still at an acceptable level) and Lumpy’s started to engage.  Not that it’s made a difference in the past two days; he’s still not here.  I’ve been booked in for another visit in just under two weeks, to be accompanied by a sweep.  I’m really hoping it doesn’t get to that stage.

Yesterday it was back to the hospital though, this time for the shrink.  As usual, a hideously long wait.  I’m sure it would be more efficient to go to the unit where the doctor works than for us both to make it to the hospital, but clearly nobody’s ever suggested that one.  Despite the fact that I don’t feel the current meds are working too well, the doctor thinks it’s best not to increase the dosage or change them at this point.  He’s convinced that once Lumpy’s out my mood will lift anyway.  Remembering last time around, I’m not entirely convinced, but there’s little I can do for the moment.  Still, he’s promised a home visit two to three weeks after Lumpy’s arrival so with any luck, if he’s wrong, something can be sorted before too much damage is done.

And we’re still waiting.  It’s frustrating, more so, I think, because the boy was born so early that I never really had the chance to wait.  I don’t know how to do waiting and I’m not the most patient of people at the best of times.  The husband would like to point out that it’s my fault we’re still waiting, that Lumpy has inherited my stubbornness.  However, the mother in law has made it quite well known that even in the midst of a c-section, the husband didn’t want to be evicted from his first home.  Clearly this makes it his fault and I’m more than happy to blame him.  After all, it couldn’t be down to me, could it?

Last time around I didn’t nest.  Instead I made much point of saying how we had to clean and disinfect our ant-ridden studio before the baby arrived, yet never really got around to doing anything.  I’m undomesticated, you see.  I can just about manage to put my dirty laundry in the basket but anything beyond that is pretty much a miracle. 

This time around I knew we’d have to do something with the house.  Whilst not dirty, it is generally messy.  We’re just not tidy people.  None of us.  So with the Christmas holidays here we packed the boy off to the mother in law’s and set to work, one room at a time. 

Five days later we’ve pretty much done a deep clean on each of the rooms, gotten rid of the boy’s double bed and built up his new single, rearranged our bedroom so there’s room for the moses basket and a decent chair (I’m still holding out for one that rocks.  I think the boy is too) and the house is actually looking in a decent condition.  There’s still bits to do; the husband’s desk will forever be a junk yard, I think, and three days on he’s still trying to organise the boxes of lego, but we’re pretty much a go.  Aside from a few purchases still to be made, Lumpy can make an appearance and we’ll be ready. 

Of course the problem with all this activity is I didn’t realise quite how it would leave me feeling.  In those first few days I felt on top of the world.  I was achieving things, I was busy and despite the fact that I was tidying and cleaning, I wasn’t bored.  Yesterday, though, I hit a low.  The husband went out to pick the boy up and I was left behind waiting for the bed to arrive.  And I had nothing to do.  I felt completely lost and miserable.  Then, once the bed arrived and I realised I couldn’t even carry the thing upstairs, I felt totally useless. 

We have a week and a half of holidays until the boy returns to school.  With Christmas in the middle and a boy to lavish attention on I’m sure I’ll be fine.  It’s those hours when he’s away and before Lumpy’s born that bother me.  How I’ll fill them, what I’ll do to stop myself sinking. 

In more positive news, on Monday, amidst the falling snow and chaos, we went for the latest ante-natal appointment.  Lumpy has managed to turn again, this time head down with his back on my left side.  I’m hoping he doesn’t feel the need to move that much between now and the birth.  I’m booked in to receive my home birth kit next Monday morning.  The bad side was the midwife decided it was time for another blood test.  At least she sprung it on me and did it there and then instead of making me wait until next time.  I’ve still got a hole in my arm though.

So all that’s left to do is inflate the birth pool.  We’ve cleared the dining table into the conservatory to make room and have everything waiting.  We’re shopping for nursing bras this afternoon (have to drag the husband along to endure the torture too!) and then off out for our anniversaryso that’ll be a task for tomorrow morning.

And then it’s time to wait.

Friday was my last day at work before maternity leave.  I’m officially a free woman.  Or free until the full maternity pay runs out, at least.

Thursday there was talk of snow.  The sort and amount that stops you from getting to work.  Of course some of us weren’t so lucky last time that happened.  The Northern line seems to run through strikes and adverse weather conditions.  Still, in my delicate condition, any amount of snow might have stopped me getting as far as the station.  I wasn’t really sure how I felt about that.  I wanted my last day, I’ve been counting down to it for weeks now.  That said, who can resist a snow day.

But it wasn’t to be.  We had a few flurries throughout the night (I had to keep checking every half hour as I shipped my pregnant ass to the loo) but by morning there was little enough snow that you could still see the colour of the pavement beneath it. 

One thing about my last day I was dreading was any sort of presentation.  I’m too shy for that sort of attention and I never know what to say.  Oh, and I’m pregnant, and that sort of thing is likely to make a pregnant woman cry.  I’d got a catch-up meeting scheduled for that afternoon and as I made my way over there I was happy to see that the people I’d expect to see at any presentation were still firmly at their desks.  Got to the right office and it was empty except for the person I expected to see.  I was relieved.

Until about 15 minutes later when she started looking around my shoulder and through the door.  Sneaky cow!  There was everyone.  And yes, that’s another way to make a pregnant woman cry.  Still, I graciously accepted my (and Lumpy’s gifts) and it was lovely to see everyone before I was off.

It’s been strange leaving; I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet.  It’s not that I expect to have to go in on Monday, I’ve got my head around the fact of Christmas being over the next weekend.  I think it’ll really hit on the first week of January when we ship the boy back for his first day of school and I realise I don’t have to get out of bed to get to work.

This weekend we’ve shipped the boy off to the mother in law’s for a bit of peace and quiet.  The idea is that we get the house completely tidied and the bedrooms all sorted.  We attached the boy’s yesterday and the husband pulled the double bed out ready for his new single one to go in when it arrives on Tuesday.  We did a bit of rearranging too so we can fit all the baby stuff in and put up and cleaned the cot (because the sister in law returned it with baby sick still on it). 

So now I’m being a picture of domesticity (I’m only blogging whilst I wait for the washing machine to finish, honest) and the husband’s on the sofa watching a movie.  Still, I’ll put him to work later.  He won’t know what’s hit him!