We are now entering that strange period of time when we could realistically have a new baby here in 4-8 weeks and there is no way of predicting when it will happen. I think the to-do list of things we have left to accomplish before d-day is as long as my arm (I only think this because I haven’t gotten around to writing it yet) and the thought of all the washing and toy cleaning I have to do makes me want to go back to bed and take a long nap. We are going to have a newborn here soon. And a toddler. Oh my god.
It’s a good thing I’m going to be able to have a glass of wine soon because that’s the kind of thought that makes me want to reach for the bottle.
Last weekend we went away for the night for the last time as a family of three. We had an absolutely brilliant time at a 30th birthday party in Dorset (a sentence I never thought I’d hear uttered: “Oh good! You’re here! We can start the rounders game now!”) and Elfie was an absolute angel. She loved sharing a hotel room with us though woke up at 7am on the dot – which was actually more like 6am due to the clocks going forward. Luckily an hour of CBeebies in her cot with a banana allowed us to snooze. She also had her first experience of the sea which she could not get enough of, the mentalist. It was freezing. I looked after the pram whilst she and her dad paddled.
This week has been a bit rubbish really. After coming down with what I thought was a tummy bug on Monday night I spent the next day in bed feeling awful (thank goodness for my mum who had Elfie from 9am til bedtime – there’s no way I would have been able to look after her in that state). That afternoon I started having very strong Braxton Hicks contractions, one every ten minutes, and after consulting Twitter (obviously) I called my Midwife who told me to get myself into hospital. Thank goodness for my mother-in-law who took over Elfie duty whilst my mum drove me to the ADAU. I’m well into oversharing so I hope you won’t mind me telling you that my pee was the colour of cloudy Lucozade, which is weird because I don’t even like Lucozade. I was dehydrated and had loads of nasty things showing up on the urine tests which the doctor concluded meant a UTI. Apparently during pregnancy UTIs can be asymptomatic and can manifest themselves in different ways, such as in what might appear to be a tummy bug. They let me come home that evening with some hefty antibiotics and instructions to rest. Though any mothers out there will be able to tell you that resting whilst looking after a toddler is pretty impossible.
I have been completely wiped out all week, but today was the first day I have woken up and not just wanted to go straight back to sleep again. It feels brilliant to re-join the human race.
In other news Elfie thinks my huge stomach is hilarious and likes to poke my belly button, and then lift up her shirt and poke her own. She also likes to soap it up when I take her in the shower with me. We’ve had lots of people ask how she has reacted to the news, to which I respond “really? You think I can explain a new baby brother to the girl who only gets excited about bananas and airplanes?”. She basically has no idea what is about to happen and I feel quite guilty that we will be completely rocking her world to such an extent.
I’m still feeling very positive about my VBAC and am hoping this attitude will help me get the experience I want. I’m focussing on the messages from my Hypnobirthing books (really) and reading up on the process and historical non-medicalised births rather than One Born Every Minute-type hospital births and am hopeful that this positive frame of mind will go a long way to create a happy experience. We shall see. I still don’t like that the medical professionals I come across seem to be encouraging so much intervention (the midwife in the ADAU told me they’d probably encourage me to have an epidural due to my previous section: do not want) so in the next couple of weeks I want to write a strong birth plan and make sure I discuss it all at length with Will, who I expect will act as my birth advocate. As long as he’s not one of those husbands that do nothing but shout ‘push’ and vomitsat the sight of a crowning baby, I think I’ll be happy.
(Apologies for the rubbish photos this week: Mr ‘I bet David Bailey never has to deal with this shit’ was rushing to get back to work)