Elation

When I was pregnant with my second baby I felt so detached from the whole process; so differently from my first glorious, glowing pregnancy that I worried so often that I would still feel no connection to the baby when he or she was placed on my chest for the first time. I couldn't comprehend just how I would be able to love another living creature as much as I loved my daughter. I couldn't imagine feeling that completeness of emotion be shared between two.

Now, as I sit, as I so often do - or at least as often as I get the opportunity - with my youngest daughter clasped firmly to my chest, her head resting against my cheek & her face full of innocence, laced with curiosity, yet somehow looking on with the dignified silence of someone with immeasurable wisdom - I wonder why that should be? - I feel, still, complete. I do not feel as though my love has been shared or stretched, I feel as though it has simply grown, yet all the while nothing has been taken from me. In fact I feel as though more has been given to me. 'Love' does not sum up what I feel for her & for her elder sister. 'Love' doesn't even touch upon it.

Elation.

Her fine flash of downy auburn hair against my cheek is the softest sensation I have ever felt & when I move my face to bury my mouth & nose into her scalp her scent is one so delicious & complex - one that tells me she is made of me. It is different to that of my eldest daughter in a thousand ways yet somehow the same.

As I hold her, in whichever position she is pressed against me it feels as though she fits. I was made to carry her & she was made to be held by me, first inside & now out.

Everything about both my daughters is love. I feel incredibly humbled by the love they have for me as well as the feelings that encompass me when I have them near to me & the anxieties I feel when I don't.

It is not enough to say that they are my world, but I cannot describe it any other way.

They are my world, & everything more.

Babies Cry

This morning was my morning for a lie in. The Man has a day off today & so it was his job to get up with the noisy baby one. We're having a bit of 'peace & quiet' (a purely relative term) as Eldest is at my Mother in Law's for a few days.

As I laid in bed about 8am, drifting in & out of sleep because I could hear the baby girl crying downstairs as the Man prepared her bottles I was suddenly woken by a BANG BANG on the wall.

Did the neighbours just bang on the wall?


No, they wouldn't have. Would they?

This was followed by muffled voices. A woman in an annoyed tone & a man's voice in what sounded like a reasoning tone.

Oh my god, they did bang on the wall.


They must think I neglect my baby.

Granted, given all the depression bullshit, I have trouble getting to sleep on an evening & so some mornings baby girl will have been crying for 15-20 minutes as I wake.

Shit. How do I explain this to them? I'm not a child abuser, I'm just tired.


& besides, she's been ill for the past few days.


Good lord I must explain this to them at once! I mean, they don't have kids.. what if they can't have kids & they get woken up every morning by our baby crying? Are the walls that thin? What if they've recently lost a baby? What if they hate kids & we're here bugging them with our reproductive prowess? What if it's been building up & up & up & they just can't take it any more...?


God, are we inconsiderate knobheads?

As I mulled this over, thinking of writing them a letter or going round to explain or apologise & getting increasingly upset I realised I should probably go & tell the Man. He always knows what to do.

I told him what had happened & what I was worrying about & at once he dispelled all my anxieties in a simple statement.

"Well, even if that is so.. it's not our fault. Babies cry."

Oh yeah. Babies do cry. Quite loudly sometimes. & as for depression, that's not my fault either.

Oh.

& then I got to thinking...

Maybe they were wound up & tired, or maybe they do have problems or maybe they are just first class twats. But whatever the situation, they didn't give the amount of thought or worry I gave to them when they banged on the wall this morning. They probably didn't think: 'Well, what if she's depressed? or what if the baby is ill? or what if the baby just cries on a morning because it's a baby?'

I should have just friggin' well banged back & not given a toss, but then maybe that would make me like them.

So my baby cries.

She's happy, healthy, loved & cared for, but she cries & sometimes I'm tired.

So you can just about bloody well sod off.

Inconsiderate knobheads.

Groovy Mums & Cafe Bebe's Real Mummy Tummies

Kate's first challenge this week was this:

1. Body – do you love or loathe your body? Celebrate the fact you are a mum by posting here http://cafebebe.co.uk/2012/02/real-mummy-tummies/

Now, after two children it is definitely fair to say that my body is very different from before I sarted (though I didn't have much time to appreciate just how lovely my body back then was, as I 'fell' pregnant for the first time when I was the fair age of 18) but not in the way you might expect. Cafe Bebe is celebrating real mummies & their real tummies over on her blog & I totally get behind her on that. Mummies go through a hell of a lot, more than anyone could imagine & when celebrities flash their perfect post-baby bodies in our face it is, as she says, bloody infuriating. It isn't normal & it puts totally unrealistic pressure on top of all the other pressures that women all ready suffer in our vain society.

Having said that, here is me 6 weeks after giving birth to my second baby, about to go for my first run since I found out I was pregnant for the second time.

Now before you spit at the screen & slam your laptop shut, please read a little further as I explain...

When I found out I was pregnant I was a healthy 10st 8lb (which is the higher side of a decent BMI for 5ft 7in) & I enjoyed running & salads, as well as cake & takeaways! Now, 11 weeks after having the wee one, I am 9st. I don't have a nanny, personal trainer (though technically my OH is a qualified fitness person thing but I'll be damned if I can get him to give me any training for free) & I certainly don't have a chef - though I would not say no! - but what I did have after the birth of my wee girl was a lot of blood loss. Thankfully, the staff at the hospital knew that this could happen as, when I had my first baby, I bled so much after the cesarean that they offered me a blood transfusion (I said no & spent the first year of her life weighing between 7st & a half and 8 stone, due mostly to anaemia etc. but also to stress & anxiety & an unrealistic view of myself. This was not a good time in my life).

What I'm getting at is that, yes I was lucky enough to have a small bump in both pregnancies & to weigh less than when I fell pregnant in both pregnancies & I appreciate that I can fit back into my skinny jeans, however I am not healthy. I've been running twice since having the baby & I can tell you that I was dying. My baby is a very hungry one & I haven't been able to keep up with feeding her, whereas I think that if I had a little more on me & a bigger appetite myself (I sometimes struggle with eating properly as I have PND, but this is something I feel is getting better) then I would have been able to do more for her.

It's so important to be healthy, not just for ourselves, but for our babies too, & it's even more important to remember that healthy doesn't necessarily mean thin. Healthy is something that is on the inside & appearances can certainly be deceptive.

It's also worth mentioning, as this is about real Mummies' bodies, that in this picture I am wearing two bras. It's now a necessity if I go running & if I wasn't then you wouldn't be able to see half of my tummy. I would show you a picture, but I think there might be a law against this!

Lists are seriously frustrating to format.

I officially declare myself a Grooving Mum.

I know I’ve all ready written an intro but this post will be my list of goals (please note – list likely to be changed, removed, revised or set on fire at any time) that I’d like to achieve within the next 12 months or so.

Because I am currently 37+ weeks pregnant, I have decided that the most sensible thing to do is to set myself some short term aims – i.e. little things to do or change before the baby or when the baby first arrives – as well as a few bigger ambitions, & things about myself that I know will take longer to change.

I shall get straight to the point, as I have had a rather rough day – to my dismay after almost an entire week of feeling well – and I’d like to post about the Halloween activities Daughter & I got up to in the last few days when I’m in a better frame of mind!

So, here goes…

Short Term Goals:

1. Ensure that I have a safety-net should I end up suffering from PND when the baby arrives by:
   
   • Making a crisis plan, as suggested by Community MH Worker.
   • Ensuring I am as honest as I possibly can with my Man & my family if needs be – this is something I have struggled with recently & am still reluctant through fear of burdening others unnecessarily.
   • Taking steps to be healthy – eat well & keep my mind active so as to get into a better routine with a view to keeping this up once the baby arrives.
2. Sort out my ridiculously out of control finances in order to create stability for me & for my family – I dislike talking to people over the phone & therefore must man-up a bit & take charge of the situation instead of becoming a nervous wreck & avoiding these things.
3. Enjoy the final few weeks of my pregnancy, without feeling any guilt for outing my feet up & having things done for me.
4. Do more things I enjoy & stop worrying about others – take pleasure in making for Christmas, & share my achievements.
5. More face masks & chocolate.

Long Term Goals (Post-Baby & New Year):

1. Take care of my body – start running again, then possibly swimming when the hotter weather comes. Lovely endorphins, yes please!
2. Keeping up with the healthy eating routine that I will hopefully have established pre-baby. Not weighing myself but ensure I’m not too skinny for my clothes & feel well in myself.
3. Settle Daughter into a new nursery & set up a good routine for her, baby & myself.
4. Take time & research the possible careers I could have when the baby gets to nursery age. Work towards achieving something that will empower me, as well as fit around family commitments.
5. Hone my writing skills, so that all my blog-posts aren’t quite as dreary as this one seems so far! Seriously – take time to educate myself in writing & possibly other things that interest me. Get the cogs turning again.
   
   
   So, these are my goals thus far. As I say, I may revise them or (more likely) set fire to them. Currently my main focus is being well in every sense when the baby turns up. I’m truly terrified again this week. I can’t see many ways that I’ll keep sane, particularly after the New Year, but making this list today has certainly helped me. I’ve got good feeling about my Grooving Mums adventure & I certainly hope that I don’t bore you all to death in the weeks to come. I’m also totally looking forward to keeping up with everyone’s stories too.
   
   Ooh & I almost forgot - as requested by Kate this week I am including a pic of my in my Halloween glory, from this weekend. Looking totally un-pregnant (but trust me - it's all there) & I was actually feeling bloody brilliant too, though I am mostly always self-conscious of photos, hence the expression:
   
   

   
   
   
   Wish me luck!

Green Grocers Should Not Give Parental Advice.

It is 7.43pm & I am sat in bed by way of protest. I am typing each letter with defiance. My laptop is asking me to stop being quite so brutal. No, I tell it:

I am in protest.

What are you in protest of?

I am in protest - I say proudly - of...well...of everything. Downstairs is a mess. I know I have to tidy it before the Man's brother-in-law comes with our new sofa tomorrow - I say petulantly - but right now I am in protest & so I shall not be tidying it until later. & yes, I know that I have to fill in that form that I promised the Man I'd fill in (the one I have been avoiding for no reason) but he is not home until midnight & I shall not be filling it in until later & besides which I do not have an envelope big enough to post it anyway so I will have to wait until tomorrow to get one. So there.

Oh. What's that you're eating?

I am eating brioche, in protest - I say.

In protest of what?

I am eating brioche by way of protest against the horrific heartburn I currently have. It has become so bad that I cannot drink anything warmer than luke-warm & each gulp of food feels like a fiery golf ball when it reaches the part between my boobs but I am eating this brioche because it is tasty & I want to.

Yes, I think I have gone mad.

It all started with a bath, in which I was given time to think about things. Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous. I am irritable & I thought that a bath & time to churn over & settle a few thoughts in my mind would help - alas, it has not. It has, for some inexplicable reason, turned me into my petulant 3 year old Daughter.

There were two things that I realised, that are now bugging me. Buzz, buzz, buzz. The first comes from reading those little online baby things that tell you where you are at with your pregnancy each week - how big your baby is by measurement of fruit or veg for some inexplicable reason (does a green-grocer write these?), what you should be doing to make it a super-genius & what ailments should currently be plaguing you at this moment in time.

A few weeks back the Man was reading one of these aloud, as he likes to, & it mentioned something in the 'Ideas for Dad' section (normally full of mundane advice such as 'take out life insurance' or 'give her a foot-rub') that has stuck in my brain ever since. It said something along the lines of this:

Dad, have you tried the 'Guess the body part' game yet? - as though it's a frigging well known game? Pish - Baby is moving a lot now & though Mum now can determine an elbow from a knee why not have fun by feeling Mum's tum & trying to guess for yourself!

Well, I can tell you it didn't stick in my mind just because it sounded like a total hoot (ahem), no it stuck because I actually had no idea as to which body-parts bulged out of my stomach. & it's not like they don't bulge, I mean they really do. It's like it's trying to break out, Alien styley, & sometimes it hurts!  Ever since I have found myself frustratedly trying to decipher which bit of my bump is a head or a leg or a bum (all this made ten times worse by the fact that Daughter was breech so I am completely obsessed with whether this one is going to turn the right way or whether they might have to cut me open again) & I can't tell. So, in my mind, this makes me one or both of two things:

a) Stupid
or
b) A useless mother to my unborn child

&, if I'm honest, I'm not sure which is worse!

Okay, so I know, I know I am being over-sensitive about this & that there are obviously deeper issues here, but it really makes me think that the green-grocers who write this baby-twaddle & Crap Ideas for Dad should just stick to the 'be nice, avoid her wrath & make sure the money is coming in, two pound for that bunch of bananas' tack. Don't invent tedious games that insult half of the mothers who are paranoid about which way around there baby is laying. Don't torment me, follow your own mundane advice - avoid my wrath, make my partner give me back-rubs (he's not going near my feet) & tell him to leave all his money to me, should I kill him in frustration!

Seriously, pregnant women are sensitive & will be driven to bed & brioche in protest [of nothing] in a second, so be careful what you say!

Oh, & the second thing I realised when I was in the bath was that the bath edges needed re-sealing. I got out swiftly after this second realisation.

On Mammaries & Memories of Who I Am

I’m sat in the middle of the floor of my baby’s nursery as I write this. Behind me is the bed of the crib that was once mine, then my daughter’s & is now theirs. To my left are the legs of the crib, half painted & still wet. In front  of me is a brand new wooden high chair which currently seats Daughter’s dolly (adorned in oversized swimsuit, previously belonging to Daughter herself), some Johnson’s Baby Lotion which I shall never use as I prefer organic & ethical products & a hand-me-down plastic baby toy in suitably garish colours. Also in the room is a large cot, again, once belonging to Daughter; a beautiful new moses basket (my proudest & most unnecessary purchase); a new chest of drawers, too small to actually hold all the clothes & bibs we seem to have acquired; an electric breast pump; various baby bottles; a steam steriliser & all that other paraphernalia associated with a new baby.

I often come in & sit in this space, to try & familiarise myself with the room or just basically in an attempt to come to terms with the fact that I’m going to be a mother - again.

There will be a new baby in here in less than five weeks.

I can say this over & over but still it has not sunk in.

Earlier I took my shiny electric breast pump out of its box, read the instructions, dismantled & reconstructed it & stared at it for a while. Last time I had a manual one which was such a pain in the arse that I promised myself an electric one this time around – a lady of leisure with all my fancy baby gadgets & all that jazz. As I dismantled the pump again I felt a pang of excitement which was immediately followed by a wave puzzlement. 

When on earth did I go from being a [not so] cool, wild party girl who got rared up by a free shot of Sambuca from the handsome gentleman at the cheap bar, followed by a dance with the cheap gentleman from the handsome bar – or was it the other way around? That Sambuca had gone to my head – to being thrilled at the prospect of not having to manually extract the milk from my mammaries? Thrilled is perhaps too strong a word, but you see my point nevertheless?

If you have read any of my previous posts you will realise that I haven’t been coping with this pregnancy well & that I am finding it hard to be thrilled by anything at the moment, but I do feel happy that I am not completely detached & I am beginning to realise that maybe doing what makes it easier for me & by buying all this fancy but slightly unnecessary stuff will actually help me to cope better when the baby is here. I also think that it is going to be about finding a balance between the partying & the pumping.

I don’t want to lose sight of who I am, or who I can be. 

At the moment I am far too round to dance for more than 10 minutes without having to stagger to the nearest seating area & have a bit of a rest but that’s just pregnancy & I must accept this. It’s not going to last forever. In fact it’s going to last for five more weeks, maximum. I am 22. I am not past it by any means, I started young & therefore I have a head start in that I have the whole of my life to achieve the things I didn’t achieve when I was 18 & pregnant. I may spend my nights wakeful or sobbing & I may feel as though I have failed because I didn’t live my life in the order that my friends & peers lived theirs but I still have time. Sometimes I find it very difficult to remember this. Sometimes my insecurities bog me down & I do stupid things & think stupid thoughts & become so absorbed in myself or in my own sadness that I forget.

Pregnancy is not forever & hopefully shall be without stretch marks.

My life after pregnancy will be just as it was before – juggling motherhood, my mammaries & responsibilities with a career (we hope), sexy shoes & a lot of dancing (though possibly not with strange men).

I could do it before, even when I was a single mum, so surely even though I have an extra sprog the presence of a man evens that out?

It’ll all be okay – I just have to remind myself of that sometimes.

57 sodding bibs.

I am sick of white baby clothes.
I am sick of beige baby clothes.
I am sad that there is no room in the drawers for the clothes I am so looking forward to buying when we know whether it is he or she.

There are plenty of unisex things available that are not white or beige so why have a got so much of this stuff?!

& why have I got 57 bibs?!

& why have I got 468 size one nappies that I didn't buy?! (I've done the maths - use 5 a day & that'll still last over 3 months, I hope it doesn't grow too quickly & poos a lot)

People are so generous & I feel entirely ungrateful, but I seem to be drowning in a sea of baby things that I don't remember asking for & that I probably won't use! It just seems so wasteful when there are people much more needing out there.

I like things to be kept to a minimum - just a few lovely things, as well as the basics of course. I know that babies are puke & poo machines. I know that we'll need a lot of stuff that will take the puke & poo. Honest, I know this cos I've all ready had one but it really is just too much now! I feel genuinely overwhlemed by it all!

Apologies for excessive use of exclamation marks, it's just all a bit much...

57 sodding bibs, indeed.

I bloody love Christmas me - though not usually in October!

Today, after three hours of travelling on trains (more on that & the rude commuters of Britain later), I finally have got round to making some Christmas bits & bobs. I have spent the last hour or so snipping & sewing & it feels good! (With the exception of an aching back - so blog & dinner break happening now!)

Here's a quick sneak peek at what kind of things I'll be making. Goodness knows if I'll sell anything - craft fair tomorrow & I plan on popping some of these lovelies on the Little Pea Green Etsy Shop - but if not it'll save me making more for our own tree!

Last week I was sat in our living room, minding my own business when I suddenly got a subtle sniff of something like a pine scent. I think it was the faint aroma coming from a little lavender bag which Daughter had found & claimed as her own for a while but was now stuffed down the back of the sofa & forgotten, but my brain was obviously in a jovial mood & so interpreted this as a whiff of festivity. I became overwhelmingly excited about the impending arrival of winter & the festive season. I cannot wait to see the living room transformed with bunting & decorations (I am quite the traditionalist so lots of rustic reds, greens & golds); for the scent of the tree & the excitement as the presents build up beneath it; for the cursing every time someone kneels down & gets pine needles angrily poked into their knees; for an open fire roaring during the day & then it's embers gently roasting chestnuts on an evening; to buy pointless & rich foods & to gorge on them with absolutely no shame, just pure revelry, swilling it all down with a slug of Irish cream liqueur or a hot coffee cheekily spiked with a shot of brandy, whatever the time of day.

I could go on forever & ever about the best bits of Christmas but, this year, the thing I cannot wait to have our brand new family in the midst of all this toasty-warmth & cosiness.

I bloody love Christmas, me. Even the cheesy songs.

P.S. - apologies for getting so excited so soon, I don't usually do such silly things but I am due to have a baby in one month & as I am prescribing myself one month of focusing on nothing but the baby & sleep everything like this is getting pushed forward one month, so I am living as though it were the 17th November! Therefore I find this festive fanaticism is entirely justified!

Well, today I am 20 weeks & 6 days gone & today we had our second scan - the nerve racking one where they measure your baby up & tell you whether it's normal & healthy or not.

Our baby may look quite scarily like something you'd dress up as for Halloween but it is, as far as we can tell, far from ghoulish. I'd say perfectly healthy.

Oh the relief! Almost as satisfying as the relief I felt after holding a litre & a half of water in my bladder for far longer than is natural & finally being told I could go for a wee!

Good times!