Welcome to the World Mr A

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.