The nine months, the incessant worrying after a four week heavy bleed and clot, the intense morning sickness, the incredible pains, the lack of sleep – was all worth it. I’ve fallen in love for the third time in my life. The first time was with B, the second with A and now with Little Bean who will now be referred to as D. Hello Little Bean, welcome to the world and to our family. We love you so much already.
Finally, I can almost say that I’m ready to bring Little Bean into the world. I have finished up some DIY that needed doing in the house, thanks to my awesome Dad. Ok, so the DIY didn’t necessarily need doing, but my head and shoulders are a lot more relaxed knowing they are done. I have my hospital bag packed!! I did it, finally, with just two weeks to go. For some reason I kept putting this one off, probably because the reality of the looming and large bump only hit last week. I have Little Bean’s clothes all washed, iron and sorted in little Ikea drawer sorter thingys and I feel so accomplished knowing where all the nappies, wipes and scented bags are. I have five sets of clothes ready for A, for when I’m in the hospital so B doesn’t have to stress about what to throw on the cute three-year old. I have action plans in place if I go into labour, and plans are in motion if all goes to schedule and I get to walk into hospital for the elective C-section. You may have gathered that I’m a planner, an organiser, I like and need to keep control of my personal situations and that of my family. The same goes for the weeks after me and Little Bean get home. For myself, for B and A and of course our new Little Bean, to settle into our new lives together I have rules and plans.
Today marks a very unusual day for our family. A bitter sweet day at the end of an era. Today, is my last working day and technically the start of my year long maternity leave. The start of my year as a Stay-At-Home-Mum. As well as being the beginning of a journey I’m looking forward to and equally terrified of, it’s the end of a time in our lives that admittedly seemed never ending. Three years ago, plus one month, I went back to work after a very, very short maternity leave. I took the standard six months which in reality meant A was a tiny five months old when I wandered back into my office in April 2014. That beautiful, small baby was handed over every day B and I went to work to an incredible woman, B’s Aunty P.
I’ve heard them say that going from zero babies to one baby is harder than going from one to two. I can understand why. Having at least one child has given you a massive amount of experience into this world of parenting. Whether you think you’re a good parent or not, whether you struggle every day with the long and arduous routine or have everything neatly organised and arranged for the week ahead, parenting is all still a mystery with learning curves every day. But adding a second child to the mix, apparently isn’t as hard as learning everything from scratch first time round. So why do I feel so damn nervous about becoming a Mum of two?
When I found out that I would be scheduled for a C Section for Little Bean’s special delivery, I was quite happy. The controversary and debates regarding Cesarean Sections are pointless to me, and I will gladly say that I am chuffed to already be scheduled on the theatre list for May. It’s not a personal choice. I’m not too posh to push. There have been complications to both my pregnancy and I will not take the risk with my life or my daughter’s life for the sake of ‘experiencing’ a natural birth. So, back in December I decided that this time around, I would be mentally prepared for this C Section. Well, can you guess just how prepared I actually am?
I haven’t been a very good blogger lately for a number of reasons which I suppose I can, hopefully, be forgiven for. Firstly at 33 weeks pregnant… or is it 34? I’ve lost count!.. I’m exhausted and am finding it very difficult to stay up past 10pm most nights. Hell, 10pm! I’m doing quite well there. Secondly, I’m tired of complaining, so I imagine you’re tired of listening to me complain. Considering all I could think to write about was once again my hatred of pregnancy, I’ve refrained from writing a blog post until now. Thirdly, I was on doctors orders to relax more and give the blog a back seat, so blogging once a week has pretty much been my limit. I had intended on taking a break from writing completely this week and leave you all wondering where I was until B sent me an email that triggered a ton of emotions.
They say that when a newborn baby is on its way to a family, that older children may often regress into babyhood. Talking about the impending arrival, buying nappies and supplies and witnessing a whole new level of babyhood can be confusing for toddlers and young children, especially children who have never experienced a new baby invading their space before and don’t know what to make of all this change. We’ve noticed over the past few months, that A has started regressing in a playful manner as she alludes to being a baby again, using a soother, talking in goo-goo gaga language and wanting to be held and cuddled like a baby. It’s quite cute… once we don’t let it get to far and become an issue. So, she’s regressing a little. That’s perfectly fine since her world is about to be turned upside down, but we’ve noticed one other thing. B and I have regressed a little too.
Since A was three months old, we’ve read to her. We’ve always been a family of book lovers and when we moved house in 2015, we had more books in boxes than kitchen supplies. A is no different and she hasbooks to choose from every night to read before bed. And every single night, we read at least five books without fail. It’s a tradition I never see us stopping, even when Little Bean comes along who I’m sure will get in on the act quick enough. In fact, she already has a little library of books started of her own. Personally, I believe that reading books from a young age is so important for so many reasons.
This week on In Conversation With, we are joined by the beautiful Louise who writes a parenting blog at Mummy Miller. Louise is currently on maternity leave and works as a nurse in the NHS. I have absolute admiration for nurses and midwves. Working in a maternity hospital myself, I see how dedicated and hard working they all are. I absolutely love that Louise married her childhood sweetheart. Herself and her now husband met when they were 15 and married after eight years together. I was 17 when I met B and love that I have lived almost half of my life with him already. Remember to check out Louise’s blog and to follow her on twitter and facebook.