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.
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?
You may have noticed that I have been a little quiet on the blog front. I decided to take a week or so off from writing as I caught up on, well everything. I’ll admit at 30 weeks I’ve been pushing myself too hard and have felt exhausted to the point of willing myself into a coma. Not to repeat myself, but I’m not made for pregnancy and find that I’m really struggling this time round. On the flip side, its gone a lot quicker than last time and the final countdown has crept up on us. But because we’ve only single digit weeks to wait until Little Bean arrives, I can’t help but feel anxious over the fact that I haven’t bonded with bump and that I have nothing ready for her. Oh how different pregnancy number two really is.
I imagine by now most people have come across that C Section text on Facebook or Twitter or wherever you lay your social media hat. Frustrated, angry, shocked and saddened are the many reactions I’ve come across. For those of you who don’t know what the controversy is about, a text message to a soon-to-be mum has been doing the rounds and has infuriated a whole cohort of women. The text, to sum it up, says a C Section is surgery not birth. Of course, like many I have a few things to say about that.
B and I have finally started to get our heads around Little Bean’s bedroom. When we first moved to the countryside, the smallest bedroom instantly became a playroom for A. Ah yes, the ever popular playroom also known as, The Store Room, Junk Room, Throw-it-in-there Room. A place to toss unloved toys into mangled boxes from Ikea, with hard Play Doh and bits of random toys. I’m not sad to see this room disappear and funnily enough either is A. She helped me gut the room, clear out the junk, the unwanted toys and retrieve once loved but forgotten toys back into a more suitable place in her bedroom. Of course, this meant rearranging A’s bedroom furniture around (more times than once because I’m quite indecisive) to fit more storage in for toys she simply can’t part with yet. The baby’s room is still a shell (a shell full of junk), but at least we’ve started.
Pregnancy comes with quite a lot of misconceptions. Often there is an expectation of how you are supposed to feel and things you should do while a little dude or dudette takes up home in your uterus. You should be happy, excited and glowing. You should be mother earth and enjoy every minute of the experience. Well, no, not exactly. We’re not reproducing machines, all latched on to the same programme, downloading the same software and experiencing the same thing. We’re real women, with real emotions, issues and problems. Pregnancy is not a walk in the park. For some, it’s a dredge through quicksand. So here are my seven things you don’t have to do while pregnant.
I’m not normally one to complain and I don’t believe I’m privileged or expect anything from anyone, least of all their seat. However, I’ve never been on the other side of the whole seat debate on public transport before and I have to admit, as a pregnant women, I was quite surprised and ultimately disappointed in the reaction and lack of action on the part of my fellow commuters last Tuesday.
You may remember me complaining (Who me? Complaining? Never!) about my sincere hatred of maternity clothes because I can’t find anything comfortable or nice to wear. Well, it gets worse. Of course it does. Not only do clothes look awful on me, but hey my undergarments are less than flattering and well, let’s be honest, they’re down right painful. For me, the worst part is that god awful restricting bra. I swear, if I didn’t have to wear one, I wouldn’t. Investing in a decent and comfortable is the only way to go. Take a peek, ladies, at Hotmilk’s massive collection of stylish and oh yes, uber comfortable maternity and nursing bras. Did I mention I have one to giveaway!