This is the fourth time I have carried a baby this far. The fourth time that little kicks and prods have caught me by surprise. The fourth time that I’ve watched my body expand and my family grow. It does not get any easier. Pregnancy after birth trauma will never be easy.
Four years ago I opened my eyes and saw a baby. A head of blonde hair. Bright blue eyes. A tiny body wrapped in a coarse blue hospital issue blanket. A baby with a name. Cleaned, weighed, held. Named. My baby.
I had no recollection of his birth. My last memories of his pregnancy were the pounding silence of the heart rate machine, the footsteps smacking on the shiny tiled floor and the hands pressing on my throat as the tube was inserted. My last thoughts were that my baby had died. He had lost his fight before it had even begun.
And then nothing.
And then everything.
Today I am 24 weeks and 5 days pregnant. A small milestone has been reached and the poppyseed is now considered viable. If labour were to begin and nothing could be done to stop it, technically this baby could survive. So much in that the doctors will work to save that tiny life. Each day from now is a step closer to something amazing.
This week the poppyseed is the size of a corn on the cob, and measures around 8.5 inches long. Weight is 1.5 lb and it is gaining six ounces per week. Everything is growing and fat is being laid, ready for a grand entrance in November. And, excitingly, the poppyseed’s face is now almost fully formed. With eyelashes, eyebrows and hair. It’s still so strange to think that all of this is happening inside, and not a thing is felt on the outside. Continue reading
As part of the wonderfully beautiful Frugi Family, the kids and I were delighted to be sent this beautiful limited edition Frugi long sleeved t-shirt to commemorate the royal birthday! Prince George turns one today and we’re honoured to be able to celebrate with him!
A child’s first birthday is a wonderful occasion for any family, and I have such happy memories of each and every first birthday party we’ve been lucky enough to hold at home. Each of my three have had a special birthday outfit which is now lovingly packed away into memory boxes. Mainly for me, I suspect. So how wonderful is it that Frugi has brought out this George and the Dragons t-shirt to celebrate baby George’s birthday? A true memory box outfit if ever I saw one!
Don’t call me high risk.
Don’t take heed of the warnings that spew out into the papers at an alarming rate. A VBAC is not a disease, or a dirty word. A woman who has had a c section is not ‘risky business’. I am a woman who wants to give birth to her baby. To feel her baby. To be awake to see her baby take the first breath, open their eyes onto this world and feel their skin against mine. I am a woman who wants to be one of the first people to hold her baby. I am a woman who wants to sit up and hold her baby. To feed her baby with arms that feel the life within. I am a woman who wants to tell the world her baby’s name; not discover it for herself when she wakes.
Don’t call me high risk. Don’t greet my intentions with raised eyebrows and furrowed smiles. Don’t assume that my intentions will not be ‘allowed’. Don’t deny me the chance to be normal for once.