Today I am 37 weeks and 4 days pregnant with baby number 4. I am now hours away from meeting our little poppyseed, and if I’m honest I’m still struggling to accept how it is all happening. Without meaning to sound like a stuck record, so forgive me, but I am feeling so desperately sad that I won’t get my VBAC after all. And I am anxious that the surgeons will have reason not to lower the screen when baby is born, that they won’t let me hold my baby straight after birth. This is a real possibility, and something that has happened to me three times already. This is my last chance to get that moment, skin to skin, and I don’t want to lose it. I am scared.
I am scared that all will not be well when baby arrives.
I am scared that ‘unexplained IUGR’ will suddenly have an explanation that requires action, attention, things to happen.
I am scared that I will struggle to accept this baby after such a stressful pregnancy; this has happened before and I am desperately worried that it could happen again.
I am scared that nobody will understand. That nobody does understand. I’ve missed the interaction with midwives during this pregnancy. Being able to talk to someone about how I am feeling, rather than how big baby is, when baby last moved, and how much longer this pregnancy will progress.
I am scared that nobody understands how devastated I am to have had the reality of this last pregnancy ripped away from the dreams I had for it all those weeks ago. Continue reading
I’m no stranger to pregnancy; this is the fourth time I’ve done this. But this pregnancy has been so different to the others, proving beyond a doubt that just as all babies are different, all pregnancies are too. Previously, baby’s movements have never been an issue for me. I felt The Big One flutter at 16 weeks, and those flutters soon turned into kicks, rolls, squirms and jabs. We used to watch her move under my skin almost constantly. Her brother was just the same, perhaps moving even more. I remember being in labour with him, and feeling him kick and squirm in between contractions. I felt The Toddler move very early, around 13 weeks at least. And from then she moved regularly, with strong kicks and definite rolls.
I remember each pregnancy for the way that the babies moved. Each was different, in their own ways. Each was special. Each was amazing.
In the early weeks of this pregnancy I was very very sick. By six weeks gestation I was taking medication so that I could keep up the barest of appearances. I hid away and was unable to face going much further than the school run for weeks and weeks. I was miserable. And yet even in the darkest of moments, I clung to that first flutter. The first kick. The first real sign that all was well with this baby. It came much later than I expected, at around 20 weeks and that was as much a surprise as anything. I wasn’t sure why I wasn’t feeling many kicks or squirms. Continue reading
Today I am 36 weeks and 6 days pregnant with baby number 4. We are just days away from meeting our tiny little poppyseed!
It’s all very surreal. Baby’s going home outfit is ready.
It’s been a hugely busy week with 40th birthday bashes, no sleep and 10th birthday parties to organise too. I’ve had a lot of pelvic pains, strong Braxton Hicks and painful movements from baby. So much so that I managed to convince myself that perhaps baby was preparing to come and meet us before the planned section… and wouldn’t that be wonderful?
I just cannot rid myself of a sense of disappointment about the impending section that is looming up before us. I have accepted that this is the safest mode of delivery for this baby. I have made peace with the fact that a VBAC is not for me. I will never experience a vaginal birth and I will never know what it feels like to deliver my own baby. That hurts. A lot. But I have accepted that. I am ok with it. But I am still so disappointed. Continue reading
There seems to be a trend lately for ‘retro’ toys. Vintage playthings are flying back onto the shelves and all of a sudden our little ones are shunning the latest technological advances for old fashioned wind up record players that tinkle nursery rhymes. I’m not complaining, don’t get me wrong it’s lovely to have toys to treasure back in the shops, it’s just… it make me feel old!
Yes, I squealed with delight when I saw that record player in the shop the other day. I remember those brightly coloured plastic discs dotted with grooves and the little handle you pumped around and around. I remember the old chunky clock that helped me to learn to tell the time; the big yellow teapot with the tiny people inside and the Day to Night Barbie that I coveted for months and months before my birthday that year. All of those toys bring back such wonderful memories, but I struggle with believing they were really around thirty years ago. Continue reading