Month 3 – the end of the fourth trimester

I remember in month three the feeling that if I kept going, with determination, I would soon graduate from my initiation course in motherhood. It is almost like a light and the end of the end of the tunnel, but the tunnel isn’t a tunnel because it’s being a new mum and that would be a bit of a gloomy metaphor. But nevertheless it’s a place where you definitely feel like things are another step easier. A step further along the pathway of learning about being a mum to that baby… and being a mum, period.

By the end of the  second month she’d had a huge growth spurt, she’d had a clingy phase and a developmental leap (google Wonder Weeks) and we lived to tell the tale. As we entered month three my confidence had grown even more. I had taken bubby into the city to my office to see my work friends. I had taken her to the hairdressers with me. So the next month was going to be even easier. Right?

Well yeah it kind of was.

One of the main things that had happened during month two, was that as a caesarean section mumma I had now waited out my 6 weeks and could drive again. My abdominals were slowly started to come back to life (albeit a life very far removed from the life before… picture a soggy sack of potatoes and you kind of get the idea), and I was no longer on painkillers. This meant that I was beginning to ‘do’ normal (ha!) life again.

It also meant that I was beginning to go places on my own with bubby in the car. The only trouble with that was that it meant having to deal with crazy car baby on my own. For the first four or so months of Baby OC’s life you just couldn’t take her anywhere in the car without her crying. Or rarely ever. The trick was to get going somewhere quickly, and to choose the route with the least traffic lights. Once you were ten minutes into the journey she would be asleep. And if you kept your journey time to under ninety minutes she would probably be fine – she might wake but the motion would send her back to sleep. But woe betide you if you hit traffic. She’d be awake within five minutes… and then the grizzling would start. And then this would scale up a notch to whimpering. And then full blown crying. And finally hysterics. Which on odd occasions would cry into sleep, but most times would just end in you giving up and pulling over to feed or just cry a bit yourself.

Oh, and never, never ever, take the child out in the car between 3-6pm. Just nope.

Ahhh I don’t miss the tension of car journeys back in those days. But I didn’t let it stop me – I was free! So I started visiting friends and family an hour or ninety minutes’ drive away and just tried to get through it the best I could. The trick was to feed before we left (and clean nappy), then hop in the car, get out of the area via the least traffic lights, keep the car in motion as much as possible, and ten minutes later a baby would sleep peacefully in the back.

But many, many good things started happening too. First up she started sometimes sleeping through at night. The witching hour of 4-6pm wasn’t so witchy and a bottle of formula at that time was really doing the trick for us all. And she actually started noticing and interacting with her toys which meant it was easier to leave her lying on her baby mat for a bit.

By this time too, the newborn clothes are all gone. So you get a whole new set of clothes and outfits to try. You might actually bother dressing baby in something other than a babygrow which I found so much fun.

Other fun things started happening with more frequency too. Like Baby OC started noticing her voice a little. She would coo to herself. She started to wake up without crying and instead would lie in her bassinet and just ooh and ahh to herself. This made me fall in love with her a whole chunk more. I think that’s what I fondly remember about this phase – it was beginning to occur to me that I was actually enjoying things – that this little girl was going to develop her own little personality. I started to understand that she and I would see and do so much together and I was so glad I had all that to look forward to. I realised it was going to be an exciting journey, and that all the hard slog of a newborn was going to be totally worth it.

I’m trying to be really honest about the newborn phase, by the way. I know some people relish those early days and weeks, and that they just love all the cuddling and holding. For me, I found it quite overwhelming to be so totally depended on. And don’t get me wrong, so many people would tell me how relaxed I looked and how I was taking it all in my stride. But on the outside while I was handling things…. on the inside I was almost certainly having a minor meltdown for the umpteenth time that day.

I can remember one particular stand out occasion that was possibly the worst ‘outside’ meltdown that baby girl ever had.I was undergoing a lot of physio to help with some hip problems that pregnancy had exacerbated, and also the strengthening of my abdominals. Most times I put these appointments in for times Mr OC wasn’t working but this one day he had to work and I’d missed my two previous appointments so I just decided to take her with me. On any other day, she would have no doubt been fine, but that day for no particular reason it just wasn’t meant to be. She fell asleep in the ten minute drive over to the physio, and didn’t take kindly to being woken up at the other end. And it just spiralled from there. She was inconsolable – wouldn’t even feed. She went up a notch, then another, then another until she was just hysterical and nothing could calm her. This went on for the entire (fretful) appointment. I don’t remember a thing my physio told me, god love her. I couldn’t focus on anything. Except the damn screaming. And my physio tried to help (while I had acupuncture needles in my hip she went off with the pram and tried to rock her to sleep) but nothing worked. Finally, at the end of the appointment, as I went to the counter to pay and book in again, there was the next client there waiting – a lovely young mum – and my physio said to her “[name] do you remember these days” (or words to that affect). And the lady just said “Here let me hold for a minute while you settle up” and took her from my arms. Well, bugger me, that child just stopped. Just like that.

Man oh man. I couldn’t decide whether I was fuming or just so relieved. I settled on the latter and took her off for a long drive, followed by a walk by the ocean in her carrier. She slept the whole time.

So yeah. I have already spoken about mourning my ‘old life’ lost, but I think that as you come to the end of the fourth trimester, you start to glimpse where those elements of your life are going to come back, even though it will be in a slightly altered form. And if she did go nuts, then she went nuts. Normally feeding solved it. On the odd occasion (I can count on one hand) it was just hysterics and no stopping her!

And I think getting out and about and visiting people was my way of getting a bit of me back. Not to mention the fact, I’m a big advocate for keeping yourself out of the house for part of the day, every day, when baby is so young. It’s very easy to find it too hard to get out the door, but every day I made sure to try. Except one day a week which would be our sofa day. On that day, whatever happened, happened. I couldn’t have allowed myself to be trapped in the house. I think it would have slowly killed me.



Month 2 with a newborn

If you read my last blog you’ll know that I’m working my way through my experiences in the first six months of my baby girl’s life. I am just starting back at work and she has just started daycare, so things are sort of getting a routine about them… life will never be normal again, don’t get me wrong… but I like a bit of order amongst the chaos and there is definitely more order now. And certainly some free hours for me whilst she trials daycare and before I head back to the office… so what better time to get back into the blog. 

One thing I forgot to mention in my last blog was this weird feeling I had about basically just wishing Baby OC was back in my womb. Not because I didn’t want her, or didn’t love her – but because I felt bad that she would basically be so overwhelmed by this new world when her world for nine previous months had been so much less complex and all she was used to. I remember playing her womb sounds to try to get her to sleep when I wanted her to sleep – and, like everything, it worked like a dream the first few times but then things changed. Like they always change, and then change again, and again… just when you think you know how to solve something.

Anyway, these womb sounds made me cry the first time  – obviously because I was really hormonal, yet, I just felt sad that she was no longer in her safe place and that she probably really missed it.

And, similarly, when my mum left after two weeks, to fly back to the UK, I felt sick to my stomach – partly because I was going to miss her so much as she’d been with us solidly for a month, but also I was unsure how I’d cope on my own with bub and trying to get things done at home. I had been in a safe place and I knew the tough bit was coming but it doesn’t make it easier. I also had Mr OC’s mum around too – which was nice. But deep down I wanted to be able to cope on my own. I wanted to get  to grips with things. I wanted to take control again.

Month 2

Although we’re still in the fourth trimester (the transition period for baby between womb and outside world where they are adapting to the new lifestyle), I felt braver, stronger (physically and mentally), and also started to see a few rewards instead of constantly feeling like a milk machine whose heart is completely lost to a small being that can only love you back in a most basic way.

Some people love that helplessness of the newborn baby. I found it hard. I found I was looking forward to her developing  a smile and interacting with me. So when that started to happen in month two I felt like the hard slog of the first six weeks was finally totally worth it.

By month two you’re starting to get the hang of things that are back up plans when it’s just all ‘nope, baby doesn’t want to do that’ – because let’s face it, you’re no longer in charge: your child is. For example, I would learn that on the days she didn’t want to be put on the floor, or in her bouncer , or the pram, or her bassinet or anywhere except on me to just go with it. I’d do what I could with her in a baby sling/wrap (advice to all new parents – get one. In fact, get two for when one’s in the wash), and when she slept I let her sleep on me and just chilled out with a book or watching TV. It was the days I’d be fighting to get things done that hurt more. If I was able to drop it and just accept that she was having a developmental leap or a day when she needed more physical contact then that’s OK.

I think that was the main lesson of month two – acceptance. Acceptance that just when I think I know what she wants or how to handle a situation, she’ll change. Acceptance that it’s OK if things don’t get done in the order we used to do them in… if at all. Acceptance that if I just relax a bit, everything will be OK.

And it was.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still learning that I can’t just leave the house. I can guarantee you even if you’re super organised there will be a pooey nappy just as you’re about to walk out the door!

The other thing that started happening in month 2 was that we started to realise Little Miss OC was never going to take a dummy. Which at the time used to drive me scatty. I’d constantly wish she would in her unsettled periods or when she just wanted to get on the boob for comfort alone so I’d be tied to her for hours on end and exhausted as result. But to be honest it turned out to be a good thing in the end as I now don’t have to worry about weaning her off it!

I also started expressing my morning milk and Daddy would give a bottle in the evening which meant I could be free to do dinner and have a break after a long day and he got bonding time. We had also read that my milk would be better quality in the morning and overnight so it was nice for her to have that milk and might help settle her in the evening. It sometimes worked… eventually around 2-3 months we switched to a bottle of formula before bed which definitely worked!

For the first six weeks of her life she didn’t much like baths so we would just shower her with us. Which in hindsight is so strange because she is such a waterbaby now. And this is exactly what I mean about how everything changes all the time. 

Month two they are still in this precarious fourth trimester but confidence grows on your part as a parent and also you start to see rewards for the hard slog. You will also start to see them grow out of their first clothes and realised how quickly this time is going to fly by. Precious moments to be savoured mixed with moments of feeling completely helpless as they still won’t settle for the night! It all passes… 

Heigh ho, heigh ho…

… it’s off to work I go. 

I’m in the midst of writing the follow up months after the first month to the sixth month but I wanted to pen a quick blog. I feel like today is such a momentous day. I’m full of emotion.

I’m sat on my usual bus to work. I was walking to the bus stop at the end of my road having driven Baby OC to daycare. Everything went to plan. It’s been so hot that we have all had very little sleep for the last few nights but apart from that all was as hoped. 

It’s not her first day, she’s been a few times and she really does love it. She sleeps better there, she eats well (they tell me every time I pick her up how much she ate and what a good eater she is) and she sometimes seems downright excited to be there. So I don’t have to worry about that, right? Try telling yourself that as you drop your child off. I find myself looking so hard at her – is she sad, is she thinking “oh no not this place again”?

And it doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilt. I feel guilty that someone is looking after my baby. I feel guilty that I had to get ready this morning instead of stopping to play with her. I feel guilty that when I am on my own it’s actually quite nice and I enjoy it. 

As I sat at the bus stop in the ridiculous morning heat, I realised the last time I sat here she was in my tummy. That when she was in my tummy she went everywhere with me. And now I feel a chunk of me is missing. 

I feel nostalgic about being pregnant. I feel how strange it must have been to have neither pregnancy nor my daughter in the world – what did I do? What were my days for? And yet, that’s partly why I’m heading back to work – other than financial aspects, I need something other than being a mum in my life. 

When you become a mum your previous you becomes buried beneath the nurturer, the carer, the provider of food, the entertainer. But she’s still in there somewhere and for me she was quietly asking if there was space for her in my life again. And I consented, yes there was. 

I admire any mum who can stay at home and be everything to their child. I admire any mother who can let a little bit of their soul get left behind every day when they drop off their kid and head off to work. Neither are easy. 

It’s going to be tiring and hard adjusting to sleepless nights and long days. Adjusting to the fact that when I get back from my commute I’m going to only have an hour of time at the maximum with my baby girl before she is off to bed. And in that time I’m going to be running around getting dinner and sorting laundry. Adjusting to the fact that instead of doing my day job in five working days a week I will have to be way more productive and do it all in four days instead. Adjusting to letting go of the reins and letting the carers at daycare and her daddy take some of the load. 

It’s going to be an interesting time. Wish me luck. 

Six months later… the story of the first month

Hello everyone. Did you miss me?

I’ve been kind of busy doing this mum thing and believe it or not, our little Jellybean is almost 6 months old. Yep. It’s six months since I last was blogging… moaning away about how I was over pregnancy and just wanted to meet our baby girl. And just a few days later along she came. Baby OC.

The last 6 months have been a rollercoaster. Where do I even start? I think if I could sum it up I’d put it like this: Motherhood is THE Hardest. Job. In the world.

Also… the MOST. Rewarding. Job. In the world.

I’m going to try and break it down month by month in a summary of the experiences and emotions I’ve had. This first blog will feature Month 1.

Month 1  – 

Labour was long… and, I’m not going to lie, painful. Those of you who haven’t done it, shouldn’t let that put you off – there is also a feeling of great empowerment and amazement that comes with it. The first part of my labour was exactly as I’d wanted – natural, relaxed and I can recall most of it. The second part was excruciating, fearful, foggy and seemed to last a lifetime. I’ll try and do a blog devoted to the birth story another time – but suffice to say I ended up in emergency C Section – which looking back I’m quite sad about but at the time I was totally fine with. When they decided I had to go into surgery I was just impatient for it all to be over and hold my baby girl.So when she eventually came out I felt like the happiest person on the planet.

Admittedly I also felt like the most drugged out of their head person…

In those initial days we felt elated. It was the most amazing thing that had happened to us – you feel like you’re the only people to have ever experienced this feeling while at the same time also knowing you’ve joined the club of people who can ONLY know how this feels as they’ve also had their own children.

You really feel the love in those early days – between husband and wife for this amazing creature you created, between family for this new addition, between friends who are so happy for you. We had so many special people visit to meet her and while some people say having guests in those initial days is hard work, I felt totally the opposite: a) it’s a welcome distraction when you’re having a tough day  – someone else will hold the baby for a few minutes. And b) it makes you feel extra special.

And in the early days the sleep deprivation matters not. Firstly because you’re still on a natural, biologically invented for the occasion, high. Secondly, because you are both on parental leave.

By the end of the first week I remember Mr OC having cabin fever and me starting to cry because I couldn’t have  cuddles with Maxy (one of our cats) that I used to have. The overwhelming change to your life starts to become noticeable in the smallest and shittiest of ways. And it’s at that point that you often get those “Shit, what did I do” feelings as it dawns on you all the things you have lost in gaining a beautiful baby. Namely for me, my freedom, my body which (despite having evacuated the small human that had taken over it for the last 9 months) was still feeling the effects pregnancy and of course, birth. You bleed and bleed and bleed. Your boobs hurt and all you are is basically a cow to your baby – a milk machine sponsored by ‘No Sleep Inc.’

The midwives are all over you in these first few days, and while this is fun at first (I love to be the patient), this soon fades away when you’re suddenly under pressure to make your baby put on weight, produce this many wet nappies, ensure baby will latch on properly, reduce jaundice, oh and that’s all while you try to eat, sleep and recover from a major surgical procedure. And they’re all on the watch out for you getting PND (post natal depression) and they give you advice like “try to watch the news” or “sleep when the baby sleeps” but advice is coming at you from all angles in those early weeks and, man, it gets confusing.

The weird thing is, that newborns actually sleep LOTS – but this somehow doesn’t make those first few weeks any easier. Or not for me they didn’t. My prominent memories are struggling with hormones and learning to accept that my life had completely changed  – I come second and this tiny, helpless human is in charge.

For the first two weeks I had my mum here and I honestly don’t know how I’d have done it without her – especially having ended up in a Caesarean Section. I’m not one for shying away from what needs to be done but when you lose sensation in a part of your body, and you have a huge wound that needs to heal you pay attention when the doctors say, no lifting heavy things, no driving and generally take it easy for the first 6 weeks. 6 weeks! I remember one of the key things I was looking forward to at the end of my pregnancy was being able to get around normally again. Now, not only had I lost that, I couldn’t even drive! At least my legs and feet had shrunk back to normal size. Of course, my belly hadn’t. Still hasn’t. And my hip is still buggered from pregnancy. And my feet. Sigh.

Yet, every milestone – that first smile, the putting on of weight, the outgrowing those first babygrows – felt like an amazing step. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a lot of adjusting in those first few weeks, a lot of tears, a lot of lost sleep and anxiety. But there are also so many things that warm your heart to the very core of you. There’d have to be, or nature’s way would fail and you’d never have kids again. Seriously.

And I remember as she hit the 1 month mark that she started letting me put her down to sleep again. It was at that point I realised that nothing is permanent. She was happy to be put down when she first came out, and after she overcame her developmental milestones, she started to nap and be put down to sleep again. If I will take one thing, one note of advice into any future newborn baby dealings I have – it will be that you just keep trucking because just when you think you really, REALLY can’t take it anymore, things will suddenly change and get better. And something else will become your focus, and you will forget you were so hung up on wind, or colic, or naps, or putting baby down or whatever it might have been. Find a way to get through, get through it and come out the other side. Every time it’s feeling really bad repeat the mantra ‘This too shall pass’.


Month 2 coming soon…

Waiting, waiting,waiting

So I’m officially overdue and everyone is officially making regular check ins either to see if they’ve won the baby pool or to make sure they’ve not missed me giving birth. Every time I have to tell someone “yep still pregnant” I feel like I’ve failed somehow.

Yesterday I was full of beans – positive energy was just bursting out of me. I just felt like nothing could stop me. I had the best time just having a good old boogie around the house to some of the cheesiest music I could find. Also went on the daily walk, followed by a round of acupuncture. But by nightfall I was still very pregnant. This morning I woke up just feeling despondent. 

And so all day it’s just been me on the verge of tears for no real reason. I’ve been out and about for the morning but spent the afternoon firmly planted in our recliner chair being waited on by mum and Mr OC. Oh and I had a good cry about not knowing what I wanted for dinner. 

I’m only 2 days overdue but it feels like eons. I’ve tried lots of baby inducing stuff. Tomorrow I’m off to buy some pineapple. And as I said to one of my best friends just before – just gotta keep on trucking! It seems silly that it’s getting me down, but I know it’s a common thing to feel, so I’m just going to do me some wallowing even though all the mums out there are screaming at me to enjoy it while it lasts. 

So, that’s how things stand. And here are some pics summing it up. 

Making it through the final stretch

Yippeeee  – I’m on maternity leave at last!!

So, lots of other mummas at this stage are fully launched into nesting (if they haven’t given birth already!) – me? I’m quite happy letting my husband and mum do the housework for me.

It’s an odd thing with me, the less I do, the less I actually feel like doing. Convincing myself to be productive is a hard task at the moment. Which is so strange for me – I don’t really DO lazy. But I’d say I’m bordering couch potato at the moment.

It doesn’t help that one way to motivate myself is exercise but even a 10 minute stroll (at a ridiculously snail like pace) is causing me grief.

Yet, it’s not like I’ve achieved nothing as I come to the end of my first week of maternity leave – I’ve caught up with several friends, baked muffins and brownies, cooked up soup and casserole, cleaned the house, kept up with the laundry, done the grocery shopping, and been to Centrelink – to name but a few things. I even had  a cold for a few days! But, there’s also been a lot of tv watching and several lay-ins… I’ve definitely been making sure I get the rest everyone keeps telling me I should be getting.

And, of course, everyone tells you to make the most of it. And I’m sure trying to, but when you can’t go too far or do too much that can be a little limiting. I guess I should make the most of being a couch potato – THAT I can do.


You hear a lot of full term mummas bemoaning pregnancy and saying “I’m so over being pregnant”. I kind of feel that. But I’m not ‘over it’ per se… it’s more that I am over looking at myself in the mirror with this body. I’m over the fact that my body is not my own – it leaks, and it hurts, and trying to get comfortable is a marathon task. Not to mention getting out of horizontal position.

roll over

I’m over the 2 or 3 outfits I’m limited to. I’m over feeling so frumpy I might as well wear a big brown sack. I am over not being able to reach my bikini line, legs or toes. And I’m over not even being able to go out for a walk to feel a bit less like a giant lump – I can barely get to the top of my steep drive without having a small heart attack. And if I pushed through it and did an entire walk – even if it was a ten minute one round the block – I’d be sore for a day afterwards.

Honestly, just doing the cleaning yesterday for a couple of hours I had such sore glutes for the rest of the day and over night that it was reminiscent of a big squat session at boot camp! If only, it worked to reduce the size of my arse, which is currently big enough to have its own postcode.

But I’m not OVER the pregnancy – I love being pregnant. I feel like I’m wearing a badge of honour and I just love the incredible feeling of having my little girl squirming and kicking away in my belly. It’s just so precious.

And I love how I feel a heck of lot freer to eat to my heart’s content. Slightly ignoring the fact that I am now akin to a woolly mammoth.


I don’t like the fact I just can’t bring myself to drink that glass of delicious Pinot Noir.

Ahhh, pregnancy… maybe it’s time for you to be done.

But you know what else? The closer it looms to my due date (now 6 days away) the more I know that the inevitable (i.e.getting this small human out of my body) is going to happen any day… Let me just say that again. Any. Freakin’. Day.

Oh shit.

Am I ready for this?! I’m ready for being a mum…  as I can be… I’m well aware it’s going to be a shock to the system and turn my world upside down in a most stupendous, sleep-deprived, lose-my-mind kind of way. And up until a few days ago I didn’t think I was too worried about the actual birth. I’ve always known it was a scary but inevitable part of the whole process, and in some ways I think I wanted to prepare for it and look on it as something life-altering, maybe the hardest thing I’ve done, but ultimately something that I would be so proud and glad to have experienced by the end, when our little girl is finally with us.

But now, I’m kind of feeling trepidation. The more that I wait for the birth to come, the more I dwell on it – because there’s now nothing else between me and it. My mum arrived in Australia yesterday and it’s so great having her here. But that means that there are no more ‘occasions’ to be had prior to baby girl coming into this world. She can actually come now and I’m so very keen to just have her here. If only I could do it without having to go through childbirth!

I really don’t want to feel that way about it either – I said I wouldn’t. I always wanted to greet it as a challenge to be overcome, a mountain to climb and then say “I did that!” So I want to get out of that headspace and into the bring it ON headspace.

One thing I know for sure. I HATE waiting. Whether it’s waiting for something you want, or something you are unsure of… it’s waiting… and I can’t stand it!

39 weeks

Time, slow down… time, hurry up!

I’m 36 weeks tomorrow people! I’m nearly freakin’ full term. When the heck did that happen??

And right now I’d say apart from all the ends left untied at work, and the fact I want my lovely mum to get here first, I’d gladly put this pregnancy thing to a halt and meet my baby girl.


A couple of weeks ago I was quite on the fence about it.

I wanted time to go quicker as I was over being sore. Although, more than that, I was getting fed up of not being able to do the things I would normally do. We were trying to finish up some home renos and the nursery before the baby shower and the arrival of MIL for a few days. Mr OC, the poor guy, was basically at the mercy of my instructions to hang this crap there, and fix this crap to that, while I tried to race around after him, passing the right wrong tools or marking up walls with pencil and tape measure.

Even doing useless, stupid jobs like that I was completely exhausted!

And then when hubby’s out I’ll still try and move beds or furniture and then realise what a bad idea it was as I feel a big click somewhere in the region between my butt and my lower back.

Then there is the flip side when the time can’t go fast enough. As I look at the couple of weeks I have left of work and I get so excited that in a few days I won’t be in the same old routine I’ve been doing for years. Not to mention I’m counting down the days to when my own mumma arrives.

And yet, at that same time, I’m panicking a little because I have so much left to cover off at work before I head out the door. I’m supposed to be handing over to my assistant and it seems like an impossible task. How do you instruct someone all the ins and outs of how you do your job, how and why you’ve developed the processes you have, let alone pass along knowledge of how to develops the creatives that the job requires?

But when I was at antenatal class the week before last and we were practising putting on nappies and swaddling dolls I suddenly felt so desperate to hold our little girl for the first time and play with those little feet and hands that you can feel but can’t get to. It was such a strong yearning that it kind of shocked me.

Over the last few weeks I have definitely wished time to slow down because I know that all of a sudden I won’t be pregnant anymore, and I almost can’t remember what it feels like not to be pregnant or to have that special, invisible badge of honour that seems to come with it. I love being part of the pregnancy club. Plus I get feelings that I haven’t sung enough to her in the womb, or that I need to spend more time nurturing her in there.

But then I see a pic of my pre-pregnancy body and I think “heck yes, get my some of that please!”

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit scared about what’s coming next. And I want more time to treasure feeling her moving around my tummy, and feeling that special feeling that you can only get from being a pregnant mumma.

But at the same time – it’ll be nice to be able to walk with speed to get somewhere. To get into the car, or bed, or up the driveway without feeling like some ancient elephant that is about to have a heart attack. It’d be nice to not feel like such a big frump. It’d be nice to see my bikini line. It’d be nice to remember that my legs weren’t always tree trunks and my ankles had quite good definition. It’d be really nice to feel asthough I actually am an attractive, fully operational human being and not just a carrier of a small life form.



This little girl in my tummy

This morning I was in the shower and I was listening to my music – John Mayer came on and I was singing away. I can’t really be sure why I was in such a good mood on a Monday morning but let’s put it down to Mondays now being pretty bearable thanks to Game of Thrones!

Anyways so here’s the scene. 

Me singing out loud: “Your body is a wonderlannnd”

Voice in my head: “Like the Tellytubbies planet”.


Thanks internal feelings. I realise I currently resemble La-La or her beloved house but it’d be nice to at least pretend I still feel sexy.

But other than that… (and the increasing heartburn, cankles and insomnia) I am feeling pretty alright at 30 weeks. Mostly I just love that I can feel little girl OC moving around so much of the time. It really does make me feel great  -especially in those moments when I might be stressing about something and then all of a sudden she just launches into a parade of prods, nudges and thumps… it takes my mind to her and away from the crap, and I get my moment with her. What could be better? And even better if Mr OC gets to see or feel it too. I love it when he can see or feel the belly going crazy and get that time to bond with his girl too. 

I often find myself daydreaming about what she is up to in there. Why is it we don’t get to remember what it’s like in the womb? It strikes me that we spend a lot of time as mums and dads (to-be) trying to guess what our babies are doing to while away the time in there, and trying to imagine how it feels and sounds. At the moment my daughter’s existence is as mysterious as Donald Trump’s elective victories. You know there are things changing, you are reading the articles, seeing the pictures (or ultrasounds in Jellybean’s case) but you just can’t believe it’s real. I know Donald Trump is getting wins as well as I know that my daughter is kicking my insides right now. In the same way I cannot bring myself to believe America is dumb enough to elect this guy to the top, the same goes with my little girl – until she is actually here in front of me I find it so hard to believe that this tiny human is real. I won’t really know her and won’t be able hold her until she is born. And while I can quite happily put off ever seeing the day Trump becomes president, I simply can’t wait to hold my girl in my arms and look into her eyes.

If it’s been a little while since she last elbowed me then I start to miss her and I find myself wondering how I’m going to feel when she is not in my tummy anymore. That is physically the closest you can be to a human. We are literally attached and she lives as I live. She is always there. How do you get back to normal after that ends? I’m guessing by being thrown into chaotic life of caring for a newborn who takes up every minute of your day. 

But for now, for the first time in my life, I’m never alone. How lucky am I? 

So sure, I might have noticed this morning that my thighs now rub together when I walk, but heck… I honestly don’t care. Because our little girl is in my tummy. 

Nothing fits! 

This morning (29 weeks) it occurred to me it is now way too chilly in the morning to wear shorts to boot camp. Cue me trying to fit into a pair of my gym leggings – yeah right. I got on my baggiest pair and congratulated myself because this pair used to fall down and so I barely wore them pre-pregnancy. At least I had found a use for them….


Halfway through my walk at the beach I couldn’t work out if I needed to pee really badly or if it was just the pressure on my bladder from these damn tights. It didn’t help that Jellybean seems to be lying low today  – lower back and lower abs were taking all the strain. Yikes. 

I thought I had actually been quite prepared in buying some maternity gear without going overboard. I have bought a few low cost dresses for work and all of them will work post-pregnancy too. I also picked up two pairs of Jeanswest maternity jeans at a factory outlet for a brilliant price (less than $50 for both pairs). But I’m now wondering what the heck I’m going to wear coat-wise and even some of my most stretchy casual wear leggings are beginning to get uncomfortable. 

It doesn’t help that random clothes seem to go missing in our place. I am down a pair of track pants and a muscle tee which frankly are this pregnant girl’s best friend right now. So, that sucks a little. Where do these clothes go?! 

I have also been missing two dresses and a playsuit since last year but that’s another mystery that remains unsolved. 

Maybe they’re where all the odd socks go?

Hello third trimester!

I was thinking that because today is the 22nd I am 6 months pregnant today because I have precisely 3 more months til my due date. But of course, gestationally speaking I hit that mark a week or so ago.


I’ve known that I am pregnant for 23 weeks today.

I have precisely 3 months until my due date.

I am 27 weeks pregnant today.

It’s officially 5 months plus since I had a drop of alcohol… or any camembert… or sushi. Sigh.

(I still love you red wine.)

Today, I hit my final trimester – 2 down, 1 to go.

IMG_1705 (1)
A couple of weeks back when I would have been around 6 months, on our wedding anniversary.

Today I had my best ever training session since becoming pregnant and it felt good! I am a bit tired physically, but my mind is in a really great place, and I feel stronger from the inside out. This is why I train.

I am very motivated to try and keep up what I can, as long as I can, without risk to myself or the baby, because I know it’s better for my mind and my body – both now, in labour, and afterwards.

And it sure beats walking around feeling like a heffalump with early onset athritis.

I also enjoyed an awesome boogie around my bathroom this week. Thanks to Buddy Holly.


Third trimester – I’m coming for you. We got this Jellybean.