That Small thing I Forgot

OK so clearly my pregnancy brain has pushed out sensible thoughts in favour of obsessing over pretzels and stone baked pizza because I may have forgotten to post up Pip's first mug shot.

So there is the obligatory, fuzzy, magic eye, WTF have you got IN there?!? photo.

The whole appointment was pretty chilled. Apart from when Alfie got it into his head that I was being hurt in some way which led to a wobbly bottom lip, and Keith had to hold him and point out the screen in a pretty futile attempt to explain what was going on.

We got to watch Pip streeeetch and bounce his way around the screen. Everything is fully functional, present and correct.

I also wanted to share this video with you. It was tweeted by one of the bloggers I follow and I agree with her totally, it is the most amazing birth video ever - save it for home though ;-) - Oh and look out for the shot of mum holding her new baby just after birth. She is just glowing.

 

Alfie's New Obsession

Now that the weather is a little less arctic, Alfie has taken to spending the majority of his day out in the garden, sometimes in nothing more than his jelly shoes and a nappy.

He has found a whole new world of amusing toys to play with, like the hose for instance and I caught him the other day dipping the end of it in the bucket and then placing it on a Frisbee he wanted to wash. Clearly the logic is slightly flawed but full marks for getting the general gist.

Nil point for sucking the end though chief, especially when you share it with the chickens.

You won't be surprised to know that our garden has dirt in it, nor that my son is attracted to it like flies to a steaming heap of cow pie. You probably won’t even be surprised to know that Alfie’s way of cleaning his inevitably dirty hands is to lick them.

Yup, I said lick them.

That brings me neatly to this photo which Keith took and somehow manage to distil the absolute essence d’Alfie.

 

I also love the way in true wildlife photographer style he chose not to get involved with the subject while he was engaged in his hand cleaning. 

It is gratifying to know that the next time the plague does the rounds, my boy is SO going to have the last laugh. 

My Little Kumquat Baby

OK so at this point, my handy little phone gadget is telling me I am growing a kumquat. In fact the makers of this app seems a little obsessed with food because so far every week I am told both the size of my baby, and the size of my uterus in fruit measurements (this week my uterus is a grapefruit).

Guys, may I suggest you feed your content team because there is something a little weird about turning a pregnancy into a fruit salad.

You'll all be pleased to know that other than reading some books and listening to the VBAC Hypno Birthing CD once (I decided the M25 was a BAD place to be releasing all that emotion) I have done very little except lie on the sofa and fall asleep while it's still light outside.

I suck at this second time round thing - but it is OK, all will be well. I'm putting all my metaphorical eggs in the basket called second trimester when the Yik will have packed itself off and I will feel human again.

Food – the winners and losers

When I was pregnant with Alfie there were certain foods that I took sudden and extreme umbrage to – most notably fish with heads still attached and wine. There were also things I clung to in a bid to ease me through those first rocky months – won ton soup and real ale.

I was a bit worried that there might be some kind of on/ off switch operating in my taste buds and that this time I would be wanting feast on fish heads soaking in merlot, but no, it doesn’t seem to have worked like that.

This time I have merely added to the list.

In favour now are pretzels and tofu, oily fish (with no heads), tomato sauce and chocolate.

I’m waving goodbye to anything vaguely spicy on the basis that just the thought makes me dry heave (although the reality sometimes doesn’t – go figure).

I also have more of a hunger this time than I did before, which is somewhat cruel considering every meal is an exercise in sheer will to stop from throwing up.

This is how I know God is a woman.

So Very Tired

The second time is worse than the first, there is no question. I’m not sure quite why but this pregnancy is kicking the ever loving shit out of me. I feel so sick I have now taken to keeping my bin within reach at work, and I’m so tired that I can barely walk around a farm for a few hours before having to rest for a whole entire day.

This is not fun!!

It also explains the lack of posting which once these posts all magically appear will make a lot of sense to those who read the blog, I’m sure.

I am now the proud owner of  VBAC Natal Hypnotherapy course. Keith and I were in two minds about how much time and money to invest in hypnobirthing and for the princely sum of £11.99 this seemed like a good compromise.

I shall report back on whether I get on with it.

There is also progress on the midwife front, which I thought I would share. We saw a lovely IM last week, and we were all set to sell one of the dogs to pay for her when I got in contact with a lady who just happens to live in the next village and who is somewhat more experienced in the VBAC world than I am.

She told me about another practice who are ... ummm ... not quite local but who are VBAC specialists and who indeed say on their site they will travel nationally, indeed internationally to attend births.

I’m very excited because I’m planning on calling the lady this evening to talk to her.

It feels like a crazy plan, like truly insane to be looking at someone on the other side of the country to attend this birth, but that actually seems about par for the course with us, and these things just have a  way of working out.

Hey put it this way, the M25 isn’t involved so she stands a chance of making it to us in time. 

Booking the Booking

I feel pretty flat today, which is a shame because I expected to feel really happy. I had my booking appointment yesterday afternoon and it turned into something of a complete SNAFU

I was supposed to see the same community midwife as I had last time and was actually looking forward to meeting up with her and seeing if we could start out positively. Instead I had another member of the team who I don’t think I saw last time: I’m pretty sure I would have remembered her condescending attitude.

So for a start this other midwife didn't have any packs with her, so she added me to the list of people the usual midwife needed to call to arrange a booking appointment. Isn’t that why I’m here? I’ve seen the doctor, now I’m here to be booked aren’t I? No? OK I’m here to book my booking. Oh good. Do you find that system usually works well for working parents who have to make arrangements to NOT be at work in order to come to these things?

So instead we "chatted": She asked about my due date and I made the point about my longer cycle and she asked if it had been an issue at Aflie's birth. I said I'd gone to 43 before being induced simply for being post dates and she was very sympathetic about how unfair that was.

Next we moved onto what hospital I had chosen, which was when I made the fatal mistake of telling her I wanted a homebirth.

“Is that what your son was?”.

“No he was a section after a failed induction”

*record scratches to a halt and her eyes make like dinner plates*

"Wow, you're brave ... You know we won't want you to birth at home because you're high risk ..."

I pretty much switched off after that while she tried to simultaneously tried to tell me she was sure I was aware of the risks while also letting me know any freedom of thought would be much frowned on.

I came away from that meeting feeling so deflated and tired and stressed. I mailed Mel an update and she sent me back exactly the words I needed to hear which just makes me so thankful I have her support for this pregnancy.

I started getting some material together today around risks and stats – and here’s a scary one for you.

A VBAC gives a 1:200 chance of uterine rupture, or 0.5% if you like your numbers buttered that way up. However, if you have a repeat section your change of needing a hysterectomy are 1:90, or 1.1%. That means in the “OMG SOMETHING SCARY IS GOING TO HAPPEN!!” stakes, it is over TWICE as risky to choose to have a subsequent section as it is to attempt a VBAC.

Bet the doctors don’t bring THAT one up with me in a hurry!

List of things to organise: Doula? - Check!

I've been feeling quite tense this pregnancy, and I knew a lot of it had to do with the fact that both Keith and I took a massive and fundamental knock to our confidence as a result of Alfie's birth which we were now being forced to examine.

We had a row the other day because he made what to him was just a throwaway comment about having to deal with bottle feeding again and what I heard was "you're going to fail as a breast feeder". The only miracle is that we both came out of that particular conversation alive.

So I'm going to let you imagine what I felt like when I drove home from meeting up with Mel knowing she had agreed to be my Doula. No, you can't imagine, you just have no concept of the palpable weight I felt rolling off my shoulders as I started the car and drove home. I was very close to bursting into tears from the sheer and utter relief of having had such an amazing chat with someone who just seemed to be reading my secret mental checklist of what the perfect birth partner should be and then actually agreeing to be that birth partner for me!!

I knew Mel from the NCT anyway, because she is one of our recent volunteers, but I hadn't had a chance to really chat to her alone until now. We talked about our recent births, about the pressures of modern birth practices and the work that a Doula can do to help protect the birth experience for parents. Just hearing Mel talk was like a teeny tiny gaggle of cheerleaders going off in my head because here, finally was someone who I knew was on our side one MILLION percent and who was committed to making this birth a success.

The only way I can describe how I feel right now? I just pulled the ripcord and my parachute opened.

Umm, hello? Anybody there?

I feel really weird this pregnancy, and if you made me describe my symptoms it would be that I feel ... fine! My uterus did that initial hedgehog stretching thing, there is tiredness a go-go and last week as I reported the Yik arrived, but even that isn't as bad as last time.

If I'm honest, I don't feel like I feel pregnant "enough".

As part of my doctor appointment last week I asked him if I could keep running. He nodded enthusiastically and said "you don't take up skydiving but running you keep doing" (are you taking notes Comedy Store, I'm telling you, this guy is the next big thing) and I am wondering if part of my lack of symptoms is the fact that I am fitter this time and that I'm still running.

Ah yes, my Monday run, that wasn't too weird then. To protect against belly wobble I strapped myself into the big fat support knickers I bought when I first started running and my abdominals were still in a state of shock after 10 months of baby followed by surprise surgery and I chose a nice even track around the lakes to gently jog around. I had a spell of about 30 seconds when I felt like my cervix was attacking me with a cattle prod but otherwise it was the most enjoyable run I have had in a really long time.

If this is the secret to an easier pregnancy then I'm finding me some maternity running gear. Or failing that a small marquee with strong webbing.

Here comes the Yik

It has been a long weekend - it feels like I have slept forever and could still sleep for a year. I woke up at 4am today needing the toilet and decided that since I was going anyway I would use my last remaining test at the correct time of day.

Yup, still pregnant.

I crawled back to bed for some more rest and woke up again to discover that the Yik has finally arrived. You may know it as morning sickness but actually, in my case, Yik is far more appropriate. Last time I didn't actually throw up, I just felt like I was constantly on a very rough sea. I fancied my face to be the kind of light shade of green Dulux might ironically call Apple Delight 6. Looks like this one is going to be very similar so for the next 8 weeks, I will mostly be eating nice plain food in the presence of other people eating nice plain food. You spicy people? Take yourselves off into the corner, you are not welcome here.

At least I am now back in clothes that aren't trying to saw my chest in half. Last time I took a sudden and violent dislike to having anything around my waist, this time the problem has been the underwire in my bras. In all seriousness there were moments last week when I could cheerfully had ripped my bra off in the middle of a meeting for the pain it was inflicting on me. Not sure that would have done a massive amount for my career prospects.

It takes a village to raise a child

I love that saying, and I think that even in this isolated society it is as true as it ever was - now we just these villagers midwives, and health visitors and toddler groups.

I think it takes a village to birth a child as well though, and looking back at Alfie’s birth I think the biggest mistake we made was underestimating the size of the village we needed. 

My mind is slowly forming the shapes of how we change that this time around and who I want around us when Pip comes along. Oh yeah, did I forget to mention that, this one is nicknamed Pip because that is how big it was when I first looked at one of those pregnancy ticker things - as big as an apple pip.

Today I had my booking appointment and was faced with the tricky question of which hospital I wanted to opt for. Ummmm, not the same one as last time? 

Actually the appointment was great, and in SUCH contrast to the last one. When I saw the doctor in 2009 I was warned about my precious pregnancy and given progesterone, and told to go away and say three hail marys and a how’s y’father and hope the consultant would see me safely through. This time our doctor, who is a Gibraltarian, asked me to sit down and then said in a thick llanito accent:

“Ooooooh I see here you are overdue for your smear. When you leave make an appointment ok? Now how can I help you?”

“I’m pregnant”

“You know what I just said? Forget it.”

If he ever decides to give up medicine, he has a career in comedy, his timing is impeccable.

He then spent 10 minutes telling me to carry on running as long as I didn’t take up sky diving, and to stay away from farms.  

So I’m booked in with the same community midwife (boy is she going to try to climb out the window when she sees me!!) and a different local hospital from last time and I guess we see how that particular institutional cookie crumbles. My plan is use them for tests and scans and take my care the independent route.

I have some appointments with an independent midwife and a doula over the next week and I’m really excited about the idea of having some incredible people standing squarely behind me. I want my village big, anyone with the right mentality is invited and we’ll see if we can’t bring this baby into the world the right way this time.

The Time Has Come

So, I guess most people now know, I'm pregnant again, and I suppose I ought to publish those posts I've been doing in secret for the last few months now.

Yes, I am sneaky, I know.

Hopefully now we can get back my usual drivel spouting now that I am slowly starting to feel a little more human.

Bet you can't wait, eh?

A Weekend Away

This time of year is amazing isn’t it? It feels like the winter will never end, that you’ll never again wake up in anything but darkness and suddenly, out of nowhere you get these incredible sunny days that remind you that you are not a mole.

This weekend we went down to Essex and while Keith was busy breaking down in the sea and swearing at his own forgetfulness, Alfie and I had some fun.

He climbed into bed with me on Saturday morning which was the single cutest thing I think he has ever done. He snuggled up on my shoulder and cuddled my arm which meant for nearly an hour I could only lie there and bask in the cutes while his hot breath made my arm go all clammy.

Such a precious moment.

Then he decided to wake up refreshed and ran laps of the pillows.

Note to self: I must cut my hair.

We spent a lot of Saturday chilling with our friend Lindsay around the Prom in Maldon. There are some of the most amazing facilities there – people of Maldon I hope you appreciate how spoiled you are. Alfie was especially impressed with the spade someone had left behind because as covered in a previous post, he is a fan of the digging.

And dig he did.

After lunch we went for a wander and found some Morris Dancers outside of a local pub. I was this close to calling Pimms o’Clock and settling in for the duration.

As a counterpoint to all this twee loveliness, I will just highlight a small flaw in the “aren’t the days lovely and light” aspect of spring.

Anyone who claims that lighter evenings are a good thing clearly doesn’t have small children. Even more clearly, they don’t have to deal with staying at friends houses who have a lovely south facing room which is still light enough to conduct keyhole surgery by at 8pm and a small boy whose sole reaction is “BONUS PLAYTIME. BRING IT!!”.

It took me hours to get Alfie to drop off. After a while spent lying alongside him putting him back in bed every time he wandered off (an option met with much screaming and pouting), and a while head stroking and singing (fine until the dog started shouting at a cat until I screamed at him in language that would make a fishwife blush) I gave up and left him to bounce on the bed. There were a few large thumps before it eventually went quite an hour later. I went up to check on him and was pretty smug to see him passed out width ways on Keith’s side of the bed. Unlucky Batsford.

Sunday I got payback by packing Keith and Alfie off so I could have a lie in.

And then we went round to see the father in law, and the very nice car is currently housing for Keith. I threw some lunch together and afterwards I did something that will have burning torches and pitchforks at my door, I stripped my son of his top and shoes and let him run around the garden semi naked .... IN THE SUN!!!

I lay on the grass and watched him wiggle his toes in the grass, pout as stepped on his first piece of gravel and then with one of his trademark mischievous grins come running over to me and jump on me for a kiss.

It’s the first time in years that I wasn’t in a hurry for Keith to finish working on a car.

What did you do with the sunshine this weekend?

We did the digging,

 Then we inspected the chickens,

The chickens did not like that

Alfie had a dreadful cold this weekend, so we generally took it a bit easy. There was lots of time on the swings, eating ice cream and other well known cures.

He was better last night though, as proven by the fact that a full hour after bedtime I went upstairs to find him with one foot on his pillow, one on his bedside chair about to attempt the final assault of Mount Chestodrawers.

We're Gonna Need a Bigger Crash-mat

I asked a friend today what the minimum age was for children to come along to her climbing wall.

And before anyone pipes up wondering what business an 18 month old has at a climbing wall let me just show you this:

This is what passes for a light warm-up for my son, right before he launches himself into something a bit challenging, like a 50ft tree.

He climbs his bookcase like it was a ladder AND STANDS ON TOP.

He climbed up a 5ft wooden ladder at toddler group on Tuesday and I only knew about it because I heard him whinging that he couldn’t work out how to get back down in the 5 SECONDS I had been away hanging his coat up.

He climbs everything he can find ... INCLUDING HIS PARENTS!!

He is unstoppable and like his mother before him, has absolutely no shred of fear. He’s a force of nature and a whirling dervish without so much as a screw to come loose.

I’m so proud!

Happy Mothering Sunday

I know I have been silent for a few weeks now, and I do feel bad about that, but life, colds and holidays have conspired to turn my brain into complete mush.

In reality I’m still not feeling right so I’ll spare you any attempt to write something interesting – I just wanted to thank my amazing hubby and son for my pressies yesterday.

Many years ago, when I moved into my first flat, I treated myself to a full dinner service from Habitat and I have treasured it ever since. Unfortunately Alfie wasn’t so big on the treasuring and I have lost 2 of my beloved mugs to his experiments in gravity.

So this was his gift to my yesterday.

Brought to me in bed clutched firmly in chubby little toddler hands and with an enormous grin on his face and presented with no end of open mouthed toddler kisses.

I can forgive him anything when he does that.

Even jumping on my head.