When you know being preggers is having an impact on your child...

Last night as I put Joseph to bed, he started to gag a little.
He had been at his baby cousin's Christening (or Chrisseling as he insisted on calling it) earlier and had eaten his bodyweight in tuna sandwiches so I put the gagging down to that and that alone.
"Are you okay?" I asked, full of maternal concern.
"Hmmm, I'm fine mammy," he replied, rubbing his tummy. "Bam Bam is just making me a little sick."

Month 5... Dear Bam Bam...

It's hard not to use your name. We know it now and it suits you - even though we've not seen you. It suits your fiesty, kicky, personality. But as we are trying to keep it quiet, I'll just write this to Bam Bam.
So we know now your a little girl and that in four months time, we'll meet you.
We can't wait.
I had a dream about you - a gorgeous dark haired, blue eyed baby and I fell in love with you.
Get here safe and well and remember we love you.
Mummy
x

That tug of love feeling

In about 18 weeks I'll have a new baby.
And boy am I going to miss the one on one time I have with my boy.
For almost five years now we've been a wee team. As a family unit (him, hubby and me) we've worked together quite nicely. But mostly it has been me and J - the dynamic duo - who have done everything together.
I don't go shopping without him. I don't sleep a night in my bed without him. I rarely go to the loo without him. Wherever I am, there he is.
But soon there's going to be another presence in our lives and I'm scared about what it will mean for him and me.
I'm told there will be enough love to share - I hope so. For J's sake and for Bam Bam's sake.
But it's going to be tough.

The saga of the sick...

Yes, almost 22 weeks gone and still being sick. Twice this week and counting, and that's not mentioning the constant nausea.
The first sick incident was over the curry pot hubby left on the worktop overnight. The smell was enough to set me off.
The second was a bolt of out the blue - feeling fine, driving home, oh my God, kind of a moment which was not too pleasant.
Basically I had to hold the sick in my mouth -pray no more was coming - and get parked before I could do what I had to do.
I was quite impressed at my driving while sicking skills however - and it sure beats the projectile on the plane incident of a few weeks back.
So yes, the sick is still there, but I'm coping better.

"And, he's not a boy!"

So we had our scan today. Two weeks ago I would have put money on Bam Bam being a girl, but since I booked my scan I've been having stronger and stronger Boy dreams to the point where I was convinced I was going to see a winky today. I've been referring to baby constantly as "him" as well which I was sure was my body's way of telling me I was having another little man.

But today we had our scan and it seems Bam Bam is more of a Pebbles.

Joseph, N and I are all delighted. N and I even shared a tear. I have to say the £79 we paid to hear this news, and to see our baby projected on a large screen - waving her hand, opening her mouth a lot ("typical woman, always chatting") etc was well worth it. The experience fantastic although it will take me some time to get used to the baby being a she.

I bought some pink, of course I did, but I still keep saying he.

And Joseph is even better. We went to tell my parents and family today. Joseph was hyper as a box of frogs and proceeded to tell everyone how "He (the baby) even kicked his own head" to which they all started to panic that I was going into meltdown.

Then Joseph announced "And guess what, he's not a boy!"

Brilliant way to announce it, if you ask me!

Half way there

Well 20 weeks today, 20 to go.

It's amazing when you think that 20 weeks ago there were two little cells, and not there is something which looks kind of like this (Of course, ignore the genital area, we don't know yet).

It's all amazing.

So, I've ordered a pram

Pretty extravagant considering we have a pram from last time which is in serviceable order (but takes up too much room).

Bam Bam will be ferried about in an Icandy Cherry which as you can see is very, very pretty.

Only problem is that now I'm obsessed with it. I can't wait to push it.

Is it wrong that perhaps just now I'm more excited about the pram than I am the baby?

(Probably because I don't actually have to give birth to the pram... now if they could work out a flat pack service for baby delivery I'd be dancing on the ceiling about both).

Brave bump picture...

At 19+1 weeks..

Things not to say to a pregnant woman...

Me - after a day of extreme nausea feeling like I might actually just take myself down to the beach and keep walking into the sea -
"God, I'm fed up of feeling like this. I feel awful."

Husband: "I know how you feel."

What? You KNOW how I FEEL? NO, you DON'T. You never will. You might possibly have a flavour of it because I've been a cow bag from hell this past while but you do NOT KNOW HOW I FEEL!!!

And breathe.

Can I kick it?

Okay, I've known Bam Bam is wriggler for a while and I've been able to feel movement since about 12 weeks.
But as for kicks? Nada! By this stage Bam Bam's big brother was kicking seven shades of you know what out of me - but not so this little one.
Yesterday I managed to get myself wound up about it (not that I find it difficult to get wound up these days) and after realising I hadn't even felt a wriggle in about 48 hours texted my mammy for advice (as every decent Derry girl does).
I thought it might be worth going to the hospital for some reassurance and sat down to wait for mum's reply - and there it was a pop - definitely a kick - for the first time, and a big old wriggle, and a few more pops/ kicks and it felt lovely.

Dear Bam Bam - four months down, five to go

And yet once again I'm not sure who fecked up the maths. I'm 18 weeks and three days pregnant and yet only four months... this time five months with God's grace (and if you are not late) I'll be holding you in my arms.
Oh my sweet baby, I can't wait to hold you and to get to know you. I can't wait to breathe you in, to smell your baby smells (the nice ones, obviously), to feel your soft skin against mine, to watch your face form 101 different expressions and to listen to all those delicious new baby noises.
I can't wait to introduce to your rocking big brother and have my two babies together with me, in my arms. I can't wait to have your daddy smile and look proud to get to know you. And boy oh boy, I can't wait til you meet your granny and grandad and, your godparents and guideparents. You are one lucky bambino.
It's hard for me now, even when I feel you wriggle (Joseph kicked at this stage, for the record... you are much more placid already), to imagine you actually in our lives - so I long for the days when you are a tangible entity.
For what it's worth, now I can no longer lie on my stomach. I struggle to bend down to reach my feet and I feel like a weeble although I've not put on any weight in 7 weeks. (You make me sick, you rascal).
My hair is growing at the speed of light, my face is pizza'ed and yet this week several people have said I'm glowing. I think it's in a radioactive way.
I still feel ill, my heartburn is chronic but I know - just know - that you are worth it.
I love you baby Bam Bam.
Mummy
xxx

Hyperemesis... and other joys...

So anyway, it's what I've got.

Sort of.


Here's the definition unrelenting, excessive pregnancy-related nausea and/or vomiting that prevents adequate intake of food and fluids.

Now I have the nausea bit and the preventing of adequate anything. Recently even water has made me ill. Mostluy though I'm not throwing up - although throwing up a lot more than I did with Joseph (I threw up once with him. I'm throwing up at least once a week with this wee blighter) but God the sickness, morning, noon and night. The fear that I could throw up at any time (and have, in public, the shame).
It is, in fairness only my fear of puking which has led me not to be sick more as I'll hold it all in as much as possible.

So now, at 17 weeks and some, the doctor has given me metoclopromide (or something ) which I've now been taking for two days. Now I still threw up this morning, but after taking the tablet my stomach settled again. I feel better -ish. Please God may I continue to feel better, as soon as possible.

I'm hope this baby knows...

How much I love him/ her.
Because there is no one else on this planet (except for his/her big brother) who I would endure such sustained sickness.
I know, technically, I have no choice in the matter but it is really, heart honestly, getting me down beyond words.
I want to bloom. I want to feel and be positive, instead of spending my days being told I look "awful" and have people make sympathetic faces in my direction.
I've found I HAVE to go to bed no later than 9.30 - whether I want to or not - or else I'll be puking my anatomy the next day (and that night). Evenings are the worst. Absolute worst.

I may have to go now and hold my little nephew and remind myself why I'm doing this.

And by the way...

How on earth did I get to 16 weeks?
I'm proper pregnant looking now. Still sick, which is now in the realm of "beyond a joke" and feeling the starts of SPD. (Note to self, try and get out of a car with a little deportment and not leap out and therefore strain all pelvic muscles - apart from, ya know, the pelvic muscles I'd really like to work properly about now.)
The wriggles haven't progessed to kicks yet. That worries me a little, but I'm sure it's just a matter of time.
Now if the next 16 weeks can go as fast - but with less sickness - that would be good.

Another name suggestion

From Joseph...

Now that I've decided I like Harry for a boy and Poppy for a girl (The husband not decided on either, by the way. He just keeps making "smart" suggestions like Gertrude...) Joseph has decided to enter the name game.



For a girl he has suggested... wait for it...



Tallulah Fallulah Ballulah



and for a boy



Columbo Dulumbo Bumfarto



Cue much, much laughing on his part and repeating of the bumfarto part over and over.



Still I think Bumfarto might be marginally better than Jesus.

A little bit mad

I went a little mad last night - like nutso mad.
I was surfing the net as total writing avoidance and came across a site which said it could determine the sex of your baby from your 12 (or 15 in my case) week scan.
All well and good if you get a good scan picture and not a fuzzy mess like mine, but I digress.
So I spent hours looking for a nub (which is a bump at the bum area which, apparantly if pointed downwards is a girl and if pointed upwards is a boy).
I then went on every site from the Chinese Gender Predictor doodah to FortuneBaby.com (where I am ashamed to say I PAID money to have some quack tell me I'm having a girl based on my date of birth and the husbands... do I feel like a dumbass or what today?).

The thing is, at the end of the day, I don't really care. I kind of care because I'm never doing this again and it would be nice to have a daughter. I have such a wonderful relationship with my mother I feel I would be missing out without having that with a daughter of my own.
But I know how wonderful it is to have a son, and to love him and be enchanted by him each and every day.
So I don't really, really care.

But I'm becoming obsessed.

This worries me for a number of reasons, not least because when I was pregnant with the boy I had antenatal depression which for me fixated on really wanting a girl. There was much gnashing of teeth and wailing and feeling like shite about it all and it was only thanks to the power of prozac that I became excited about having a son.

So I don't want to be obsessed.

Help!

Introducing Bam Bam-balina

Here is baby, 15 weeks plus 1 day.

Perfectly in proportion for his/her age.

And lovely.

Celebrity Bam Bam

Well , I was on the telly yesterday doing a bit of book promo and the presenter announcement my pregancy to the viewing public!
Of course I knew that they knew, but it felt a little odd - and nice at the same time.
Bam Bam is already a celeb before he/ she is even here. Didn't tape the show because of the bloater issue - but I must get a hold of it to show my little babby when they are big.

Right, somebody, somewhere is having a giraffe

(And it's not me).
Anyway, 12 weeks and 3 days pregnant - how did I spend it?
Puking! Puking as if there was nothing else in the world to do but puke. Puking as if puke were my middle name.
Now I've gagged and retched and vomit-burped my way through this pregnancy so far but until yesterday I had not actually vomitted.
Until yesterday.
And then I puked ... a lot (I realise you may have already realised that) - but honestly I thought I might die. I felt wretched the entire whole day while my brain kept saying "But, but, but I'm 12 weeks. This is supposed to stop, Not get worse!".

I have decided that I am absopletely never having any more children. I might adopt, ala Brad and Angelina.

In secondary news, I was invited to a booklaunch by a vay famous author with canapes and cocktails and the works... Cocktails... hmmmmm! Well, only 6 (7) more months til I can enjoy one.

Tomato sandwiches

Which have, atleast, been left over night until they go slightly soggy.
With optional ham or cheese addition for added flavour. Definitely on white bread. None of my usual wholegrain goodness.
Yes folks, I think I have my first notion.

Good thing it's a relatively healthy one - given my huge girth at booking in.
I've managed (apart from a KitKat Sensations moment yesterday) to eat healthily since and I do feel better for it (apart from the crushing waves of nausea, naturally).

I'm finding my biggest problem is having the energy to cook. On tonight's menu are some lean thin cut steaks, steamed veg and peppercorn sauce.
However it is entirely possible that by the time I get home I'll be so nauseated it will be (wholegrain) toast for tea again. It's a matter of eating before the sickness hits, which is no mean feat.
Still, I might just make up a big wadge of tomato (or tamada as they are known round these parts) sandwiches so that there is always something "good" to go.

12 week woohooo!

I've reached the 12 week mark.
And while I know that is no guarantee that things won't go wrong, it does feel like a bit of a milestone.
Still don't quite get how it's another two weeks til I'm actually 3 months pregnant though.
Seriously - somebody, somewhere messed up the maths.

Midwife visit 1 - gutted

Today I "booked in" which I mean I went and sat through a load of pregnancy advice (including a frankly rather overdone lecture on not eating shark.. as if) had SEVEN blood samples taken and had to pee in a wee tiny tube.
I also had to be (dun dun duuuuun) weighed. It wasn't good. In fact it was vay vay bad. It was about as bad as it could be.
Because late last year I lost just over 2 stone. I was delirious with happiness. Today, according to McMidwife I've put most of it back on. Now I knew I had put on about 10lbs before I got pregnant - but now they are trying to make me believe I've put on almost a stone in the last 12 weeks??? When I can't actually eat anything??? Are you fecking kidding me?
I feel gutted. (And gutty). I wandered out feeling like an utter blimp - an utter useless fat creature of unattractive fatliness. And I'm scared - really scared about where I might end up when this is all done. I can't face being bigger than this after I have the baby. I can't face having so much weight to lose. I just want to cry. (Hormones, anyone?)
Thing is, I can't not eat because then I puke. And I can't eat healthy because it makes me want to puke. But then unhealthy food makes me want to puke too - so it's just one big pukefest.
I don't know what to do. To be honest, I just don't know.

I think I might be allergic...

...to the whole pregnancy thing.
I'm not very good at it. I don't bloom, or feel glowing. I don't sail through unfettered by morning sickness, cramping, dodgy hair and teenage skin.
I was convinced my iron count must be low because of how utterly pants I've been feeling and went and got it checked. It's fine. Nowt wrong with me. Except being pregnant. And in the first trimester (which offically ends on Sunday... whoop whoop).
I'm hoping to have a nice second trimester. I'm praying it will be lovely and my hair will develop a new glow (it has gone wiry - not unlike pubic hair - so not a good look; and combined with the not being able to colour it in the first 12 weeks it is also shockingly grey).
I'm hoping that I'll also stop gagging every 0.3 seconds - because that gets tired, really, really early on.
And I hope my tongu stops coating over, being sore as feck too.
And please God let me enjoy Diet Coke again - just once.

In other news, I'm pretty sure I can feel some lovely little flutters.

I just bought...

.. three little lemon coloured babygros.
I was buying some for my sister (who is due in four weeks) and I just thought "feck it" and slipped a packet in my basket for me as well.
I took one out of the packet last night and looked at it - all tiny and lovely and cute and felt a flutter of excitement.

Hormones and not feeling very well...

I may (read that as "probably am") being mildly hypochrondiac-y at the moment but I just don't feel right.
And I mean that beyond the daily gaggy, sea-sicky and generally crappy-itis of the present time.
The evil, evil oral thrus refuses to go away entirely. I'm almost done my second course of antibiotics but should I miss just one dose of it's evil cherry flavoured ickness (which is a fighting battle with the gaggy-ness, I can tell you) my tongue goes a lovely shade of white and if I even dare to try and examine it I start to gag again.
Yes folks, even talking makes me gag now. There's a joy. (Although secretly I think the husband is delighted).
Bedtime storytime with the little man has become interesting. As I read his story, stopping mid Charlie and Lola adventure for a quick retch, he pulls the duvet up over his head.
"Mummy, don't do sickies on me. Please mummy."
I assure him I'm fine but when you are trying to read about Soren LorBLEURGHSSSenson it gets a bit traumatic for a four year old.
On top of that my chest feels tight. Now this could be related to my whole being diagnosed with hayfever at the tender age of 31 (am now 32) but not being able to take any medication for it because I am beduffed.
Word to the wise, when you are pregnant all you are allowed to cure your ills is a fruit pastille and a plaster. Occasionally, if you have suffered a major trauma like the loss of a limb, you are allowed a paracetamol. Big whoop.
So I've taken to weeping a lot. And feeling sorry for myself. And bemoaning the fecking state of my house.
I'm off to the doctors later where I fully expect they will shove me out the door with short shrift and tell me to stop my crying. I'm pregnant there is oil (Jesus, please no one mention oily substances) and cherry flavoured ickness to be taken.

Does anybody know...

If there is anywhere which does an inexpensive pregnancy pampering kind of a kit?
i'm not being fussy - but I'd love a lavender eye mask type of thing, some soothing crystals, some pregnancy friendly essential oils for my oil burner, maybe a nice bump type cushion and other relaxation type things?

I'm finding it hard to relax with this pregnancy which is due to the fact that
1) We thought we were losing the baby for two weeks early on
2) I've a book coming out in two short weeks
3) I've a book to finish editing in two short weeks
4) I'm working full time
5) My sister is imminently expecting a baby
6)The boy is starting school in two short weeks
7) The boy has turned into the demon child from hell, but also the most adorable critter in the world

I so want to relax and enjoy this because this will be my last pregnancy. And I want to pamper me.

So if anyone knows, then pass on the details, or indeed just pass on any hints and tips and pre-natal relaxation.

That was blissful..

I've been feeling ropey today.
Not, admittedly the most ropey I've been over the last few months, but bad enough.
So there I was in work when a light bulb moment pinged. I still have holiday entitlement!
So, knowing that we would be quiet this afternoon, I took a half day.
And I came home.
And I've just had a two and a half hour sleep.
And it was lovely.

Look into my eyes...

I'm not really a natural birthing kind of a gal. With the boy I pleaded for an epidural from five minutes after conception, but this time (all being well) I'm planning to do things a little differently.
I want to enjoy (ha! enjoy!) "meeting my baby". I don't want to be so terribly, terribly scared the entire time so that my body is a ball of tension which nothing - not even a breath, let alone a baby - was getting out without a fight.
So I'm signing up for Hypnobirthing. I've bought a book and everything and read countless lovely birth stories in which women dilated at the speed of light, and didn't push and their babies just magically appeared.*
I'm planning on doing a course later in the year - if I can persuade himself it's not all new age mumbo jumbo - and I'm actually excited because I feel I'm in control of the whole thing.
It can't hurt, can it??


* Mild exaggeration, but only mild.

One quarter way there...

Ten down,
Thirty more to go.
And I think I felt some movement these last few days - just some popping, fluttering type of things. Might be the baby. Might be wind. But it's nice to think it's the former.

I'm pregnant

And I ate leftover pizza for breakfast.
Do I care?
Not one jot.

Dear Bam Bam - seven months to go

I've decided that I'm going to write you a little letter every month, on what would be your due date. You are due on March 10, so it's August 10 now.
I'm 10 weeks pregnant and yet I'm only two months pregnant - go figure. The first lie of the world sweet baby is that pregnancy is not 9 months old. It's more like 10. So you've a long time to be getting comfy in there.
It's hard for me to write this. I'm having difficulty seeing you as a really, really baby just yet. You are so very tiny and we are still in the nasty danger zone. I do not dare to dream that I will actually hold you in my arms at some stage.
Your big brother is very excited though (when he's not asking for a kitten instead - do not take it personally, he means well). He has already promised he will teach you how to go down the slide at the swimming pool and he is looking forward to the day me and you pick him up from school and take him on the bus to the cafe for a bun and juice. (You'll be on milk. Don't hate me for it).
You also have a wonderful big cousin called Abby who is dying to meet you. She's a wee gem. She will treat you like the most amazing baby in the whole world.
Mammy and Daddy, we're excited too little baby. We've thought our family was ready to be expanded for a while and you are so very important to us.
So keep in there. Keep growing and we'll meet you in 6 or 7 months ish.
Mammy
xxx

Do you remember the first time?

Thought I would post the boy's birth story...

Joseph was due on Wednesday, February 4, 04. I hadn't had a very easy pregnancy and by the time we were getting close to my due date I just couldn't wait to get it over and done with and be a mummy.
My friend had given birth on Tuesday, January 27 to her little girl Amy and that made me want it all the more.
On Thursday, January 29, I started to have pains at night. My tummy was tightening and the pains would become more frequent (up to 5 mins apart) and were enough to keep me awake but not horrendously painful.
By morning (Fri) they had died off again only to start that night and I had another sleepless night. Again things eased during the day and came back on Sat night.
When I woke on Sunday I had difficulty walking as it seemed baby had dropped really low. The pains continued then throughout the day going from 15 mins apart to 10 to 5 to 15 to 20 to 5 etc etc. I was at this stage very tired and very emotional so we phoned the maternity unit who asked that I come in to be looked at.
When we arrived (Sunday night) I was examined and told my cervix was effaced by not dilating - however blood and urine tests revealed ++ of protein and my blood pressure was elevated. My notes were taken off me and I was told I would not be going home without my baby.
I did not sleep that night - the pains were bearable but I was anxious as I was told they would most likely induce me the following morning.
The morning came and due to a backlog in the labour ward I was told I would not be induced and they would continue to monitor me over the course of the week (while I stayed on bedrest due to continued increased BP and protein).That night the pains had returned and I spent a lot of time kneeling on the floor over the edge of the bed to get comfy.
My family had come to visit and once they and DH had left I settled down to read Cosmo and listen to some music. It was about 9.30pm. I felt a pop - a strange feeling and thought something was not right. I stood up thinking if I just go to the toilet I'll see if my waters have gone not realising that with waters you can't exactly hold them in!!!
My waters had indeed gone - everywhere! And I was given sterile pads to wear and examined. I was 1cm and told I would most likely have my baby by morning.
I phoned my mum and DH although neither were allowed to come up to the ward so I was on my own.
I didn't sleep that night. Pains were niggling til about 12 and then started to come more regularly and get quite painful.
By 5am I was exhausted (and terrified) and asked for help / pain relief / if I could have DH come up.
I was given 2 paracetamol and told to take a bath. The bath was dirty - I had to clean it first and I just cried and cried. DH would only be allowed in after 8am. The pains - although in hindsight not severe - were now coming every five minutes. At around 8 a midwife came and did an internal and told me I was 5-6 cms. I felt at least relieved that the pain I had been through overnight was achieving something. She then said she would get her colleague to give her opinion. Thus came the midwife from hell. She did her internal and I had a mad contraction, which she persisted through. I think, in hindsight, she was doing a stretch then as I bled quite heavily afterwards. I cried and was then terrified of any further internals. She told me I was only 1-2 cms dilated.
I felt utterly gutted.
My mum arrived and I asked for tens or gas and air. I was given a tens but not gel or pads to attach it and told that there was only one canister of gas and air in the ward and it was in use. I had a shower and then tried to rest.
I was told to keep walking about and yet my BP was still up and just 24 hours earlier I was shouted at if I even so much moved out of the bed.
By lunchtime I was not feeling great. A lovely, lovely midwife came and chatted to me. She did an internal assuring me that if a contraction started she would stop straight away and told me I was 2-3 cms. She also got the b-feeding midwife to talk to me about feeding as I was on anti-depressants.Within an hour I was told I was going to the labour ward where I would be put on syntocin.
As I stood up to walk down to the ward I had a doozy of a contraction and I could not talk / move/ breath for the duration. I think that was my first real hint of what labour was really like.
My mum walked me and DH down to the ward but was not allowed in. I cried as we said goodbye knowing that when I saw her again I would be a mum myself. I then had a minor freak out when I saw the delivery room thinking I was actually going to give birth.
I had gas and air and sat on the rocking chair until the anaesthetist was free (about 5.30) to give me an epidural. He gave me the jab, while I cried and cried, but it did not work. My legs felt a little heavy but I had no relief from the pain of contractions.I was put on the syntocin and holy moly it really, really started to work.
Contractions came on top of each other and although I was drifting off between then it felt as if there was no respite.
By 10.30pm I was 9cms dilated and emotionally not doing very well. The lovely midwife who was with me broke all the rules and let my mum in for 10 mins (while DH went for a pee!!! ). Mum says I was so out of it she thought I was on pethidine.
When DH came back I got ready to push. For the first couple of pushes it REALLY hurt and I didn't want to do it but my midwife and DH encouraged me and it felt as if my body just took over and the pushing after that was a really positive experience.
At 11.16pm on Tuesday, February 3, my boy was born weighing in at 6lb 90z. I was sooooo tired I did not feel that rush of love and although I held him and did all the things I should have done it felt very surreal and I felt completely shellshocked by the whole experience.
The love did come though - in spades.

Things not to say to a pregnant woman #2

"Do you really want chips? You had chips a few nights ago. You are eating a lot of chips."

His head meet desk.
Me? horrible snottery crying mess for at least half an hour which just made me feel even more sick.

Hormones, ya gotta love 'em.

(And for the record, I had the chips. And didn't throw them back up which I consider a bonus - however today I feel compelled to drink water and eat dry bread in purging mode for daring to have chips twice in the one week.)

Sometimes I wish men could experience the "joys" of pregnancy. (Of course I wish they could experience the joys somewhere far away from me where I wouldn't have to listen to their whinging because trust me, a man would complain some. They would make our complaints seem like happy little songs.)
I'd like to see a man walk around with that permanently hungover feeling for 10 weeks without having had the luxury of drinking first and see how chipper he feels. I'd like him to get up 4 times a night for a pee (yes, even at this stage!) and see if he is a bundle of laughs first thing. I'd like him to find his clothes don't fit and that he feels like the blob. And I'd like him to experience hormonal ranty uncontrollable moments of hysteria which take you by surprise and leave you knocked for six. I'd like him to experience all these while working full time and trying to take care of a house (which is a shit pit... I mean seriously... it's awful) and a four year old with abandonment issues.
AND for the craic he could do all that while trying to launch a book - aware that at the launchy doo dah he is going to look like Bloaty McBloaty of the Bloaty Brigade.
And on top of all that I wish he could experience cervical mucus. Which is a joy.

*And breathe*

Things not to say to a pregnant woman # 1

"Just concentrate on blooming. It's (morning sickness) all in the mind."

Head meet desk.

Okay, so it has to get better

I have remembered why I disliked early pregnancy so.
So I'm trying to remind myself what I did actually enjoy about being pregnant so that I can find someway to get through the next few weeks before losing the will to live.

In a few weeks I'll be able, hopefully, to feel some fluttering movements.
My tummy will, hopefully, start to look pregnant and not just hugely bloated.
I should get some energy back.
I can start to think about names, and nurseries and prams and cots and do some shopping - yay for the shopping.
I'll be able to wear maternity wear without it falling off, even though non-maternity wear cuts me in half just now.

So while now is a bit sucky... there is much to look forward to.

Hormonal Rant # 2 - just AAAARRGGHH!!

Okay when I saw my doctor re: this pregnancy she recommended I come off my antidepressants.
I'm nervous about this as me and my antidepressants have had a very lovely relationship for a long time. They keep me sane, I keep them in a nice box in the kitchen where they are safe and dry and warm.
So now I'm about 5 days off taking any tablet.
And I'm having a bad day. Now it might just be a bad day, or it might be that my body really, really likes antidepressants and does not cope well without them.
It might just be that I'm an hormonal cow and I'm always (well for the next 7 or so months) have days like this.
But I want to cry. I want my mammy. I'm thinking and feeling irrationally. Something really stupid has happened re a Direct Debit which is so not the end of the world, and not even in my control or my fault, but by the way my heart is racing and brain is going over time, you so would think it is.
I HATE feeling like this. It feels as if the world and his mother are ganging up on me. (And I like the world's mother - she makes nice scones)
I'll give it a day or two before deciding if I'm proper mental - but just now, I wanna go home!

Oh great... thrush

And not even the pleasant kind. (Yes I know most people don't consider, ya know, vaginal thrush to be pleasant... but compared to oral thrush it's a walk in the park).

Apparantly you are more prone to thrush when you are beduffed. It's to do with hormonal changes. Personally I think it's due to eating my body weight in barley sugars to keep the sickness at bay and creating the perfect environment in my gob for Candidas (anyone who suggests that as a nice name for BamBam gets a thump).
Yesterday I noticed the back of my tongue felt a little sore after eating and the bad taste which has been such a joy of this pregnancy so far was more pronounced. My tongue was a little off colour too but I tried to brush it and ended up making the weird mooing noises over the loo again.
This morning it was worse again and low and behold I now have white spots all over my palate (or is it palatte, or pallate) and a distinct furry taste in my gob and everything tastes like poop.
The supreme irony is that my sickness is nowhere near as bad - just mad waves of it - so if it wasn't for the fuzzy mouth I could be doing okay in comparison to the last few weeks.
Luckily my sister works for my GP so got me a super quick prescription of Nystatin (only safe thing to take in pregnancy) and I've started taking it.
Hopefully it will work, really, really, fast.

So the "wobbly tummy" has a name

In the interests of giving this child a cutesy name to bring it through the pregnancy months, Joseph decided today that the baby in mummy's tum should be called Bam Bam.
DH, who is desperate for a daughter (something which is actually getting on my sore boobies beacuse I was psycho in my first pregnancy about the gender and I'm trying to be chilled out now), tried to persuade him to change it to Pebbles. But he wasn't budging.
My younger sister tried to get me to call it Shrimpy as when I had a scan at the start of the week it did look rather shrimp like - but given my pathological fear of anything seafood related and indeed my ability to puke a little into my mouth at the very thought of fish at the moment I politely declined. *
So Bam Bam it is.
And Bam Bam has been making me very sick today and tired. I keep telling myself I'm almost 9 weeks amd hopefully in about three weeks this stage will have passed and I'll be able to get through the day without making a weird mooing, wretching noise as I try not to be sick.

Morning sickness survival kit for this week includes, chicken noodle soup, TUC crackers (Thanks Keris), oven chips and coleslaw. A weird and wonderful combination I know and the fecker of it is tomorrow I could look at any/ all of those items and feel ill.
Still three weeks to the second trimester... 21 more sleeps.


* I say politely, it was more along the lines of a "If you don't stop f*cking stop f*cking talking about f*cking fish, I'll f*cking kill you".

I have a belly buddy

Except hers is much, much neater and smaller than mine - cow! She actually looks pregnant and not just fattastic like myself.
She is my lovely friend N (not sure how she would feel being revealed all over t'interweb) but I went to see her tonight and we talked about all things baby related - except of course "meeting our babies". I think we are both in denial about that.
The thing is though that N has a lovely, gorgeous and shockingly well behaved little boy, F, who just over a year old. He's just finding his feet and was tootering about, smiling, in his wee babygro and his wee nappy bum making gorgeous baby noises.
And I felt it - that first flutter of excitement.
So much has happened already in this pregnancy that I've just not allowed myself to get gooey, or think of names, or even spend much time rubbing my tummy. But after spending some time with F tonight I felt so blessed.
I'm gonna get me one of those - one of those gorgeous innocent new wee creatures who bring so much love and joy to your life and who you get to love unconditionally. That kind of rocks.

Hormonal rant # 1: I miss Diet Coke...

I mean really,REALLY miss Diet Coke.
But I can't drink it because it suddenly tastes like the devil's pish.
Now you would think that would make it easier to miss - that I would be happy not to have the devil's pish in my life but I'm not.
Because since my body turned against the wonder of Diet Coke there is not one other single solitary drink that quenches my thirst in the same way. There is nothing which has beaten the opening of a can of ice cold DC and hearing that fizz before tipping it to my mouth and feeling the cool, caffeine-y bubbles slide down my throat.
No. Water just aint the same.
And juice is okay sometimes but it's very sweet.
Cordials tastes icky.
And I'm not a tea or coffee drinker anyway.

With The Boy I couldn't drink Diet Coke for my entire pregnancy and for a few months after and the suddenly it was like the sea parted and I was able to enjoy it again.
It's gonna be a long 7 months.

Attempt to tell the boy: Part 2

The boy and I were snuggling this morning. We have this wee thing where I tell him he's nobody's baby but mammy's baby and then he tells me I'm nobody's mamma but his mamma.
So there I was telling him, well if mammy had another baby she would be that baby's mammy too.
He nodded.
"Yes mammy, my baby brother would be your baby too. Or my sister. I'd like a sister."
"Would you Joseph, would you like it if mammy got a wee baby in her tummy?"
He thought for a moment and snuggled in close. I prepared myself for unique mother/ son bonding moment. Maybe he would kiss my tummy and tell the wee pip inside he loved it.
"I think," he started, "I would like a pet instead. A kitten. Yes, I'd like a kitten."

I think I'm going to drop the subject for a while.

Attempts to tell the boy: Part 1

The boy, who is four and a half, has been talking about wanting a baby brother (to be called Steve Orange) or a baby sister (to be called Poppy) for a long time.
We haven't told him our news yet but yesterday as he was crying about wanting a kitten we sat him down and said we couldn't have a kitten because we might be getting something else.

"Would you like a kitten or a baby brother or sister?"
"Kitten, please."

I kind of asked for that, didn't I?

And so it begins... kind of

Well the keen eyed among you will have realised I'm up the stick/ beduffed/ with child/ pregnatious.

I had started a blog elsewhere on this subject but it very quickly descended into a litany of misery from a newly pregnant woman and it mentioned mucus and bleeding and peeing on sticks and icky, icky things - not that I'm a prude - just that not everyone needs to read about my symptoms and sore boobs.

So I'm linking this on to my ordinary, everyday blog so you can read about from here on in.

As it stands I'm eight weeks and 2 days beduffed. Although according to the doctor I'm due on March 10, which makes me only eight weeks and 1 day beduffed. That one day is very, VERY important. It means one less day til the sickness eases, til the bloom comes into my sails and til I meet my baby.
Please note that for the duration of this blog - at least until the nearly end - I will refer to the birthing process as "meeting my baby". I will not tolerate references to episitomies, labour, dilation or waters breaking. I would ask respectfully that no-one mentions a mucus plug. It makes me feel quite weak and puts me off washing my dishes.
You can there imagine my "joy" at having just got a positive pregnancy test having to proof read 'Feels Like Maybe' and the delightful references to Aoife's fanning fandango.
My fandango has just cringed at the very thought.

Anyway at the moment I have some morning sickness, a distinct full and bloating feeling (think *needs a big poop*) and I'm kind of tired. I'm really struggling with my inability to drink Diet Coke either - the taste of it makes me feel shiote. And I'm usually a complete addict.

But I also have a bubble of excitement at the thought of meeting my baby (and by that I mean actually meeting by baby and not the "giving birth" code word), and being a mummy again.