Telling it how it is – a difficult blog

I’ve been trying to write this blog for a few weeks, but it’s been hard: partly because I just don’t have the time (you might have noticed how few and far between my blogs are these days!) and partly because it’s a tough and crappy subject to write about. I’m about to get pretty personal. But I think there are great benefits in doing so… not just for me, but for others who have been in the same place or might be in my shoes in the future.

I apologise for the length of this blog too – if you stick with me to the end, thank you. If you don’t, that’s ok – we all have busy lives.

Back at the end of October I was super excited to see two little lines on a pregnancy test, for the second separate occasion in my life (the last time resulted in Little Miss Z of course).

It was about 5.30am and I literally ran to find Mr OC who was in the other bathroom… I should also add that he was sat on the loo. Personal space issues don’t really exist in our household, the way we see it we change nappies, clear up cat and dog poop, we all fart, we all go to the bathroom. Mr OC has seen me in the throws of labour (not to mention post labour – equally confronting) and I have seen him in the throws of bad gastro bugs.

So yes, hubby got the news we were expecting baby two while taking a number two.

Lovely.

Roughly two weeks later he was disturbed again, around the same time but this time he was about to get in the shower. And this time I wasn’t joyous, this time I was crying and telling him I was bleeding.

About 4 days later it was confirmed, our baby was gone. I was in that early pregnancy window – the one where I had almost made it to 6 weeks where the probability of loss decreases a little more. Nearly, but not quite…

So, what do I tell you about this? I mean, really what is there to say about it? What’s done is done, what the anatomy decides it does because the pregnancy was no longer viable.

Better earlier than later.

At least we already have a daughter.

It happens to 1 in 5 women.

Many women don’t even realise they’re pregnant and just think they’re period is late.

At least we can try again.

It’s nothing I did – it just happens.

Hmmm.

Yeah, all the above: 100% true.

All the above: about 80% unhelpful.

Over the course of that week where I was bleeding out my uterus and my embryo, I felt everything from sheer loss, despondency, guilt, sadness, ungrateful, anxiety and out of control.

So out of control.

That first week was basically a rollercoaster of emotions. I always had utmost respect for anyone who had had to go through it, and prayed I’d never have to. I remember when I was pregnant with Miss Z that I worried my way through that first trimester as most women do. But we made it… and here she is. So, when I got pregnant fairly easily the second time I had the nagging feeling that it might be I wouldn’t get to be so lucky as to keep this little bub. And, if that sounds really negative, I can’t really argue with that, but we cannot help those thoughts that pop up in the back of our mind, can we? And stats tell us it happens to 1 in 5 pregnancies. So, with odds like that you know that the likelihood of being one of those 1 in 5 is high.

During that first week, I missed my pregnancy. More even than I thought I would in the short time I’d been pregnant. And also, bearing in mind that I had also had moments of worrying about having two children, about making ends meet when on parental leave and how I was going to fit into a bridesmaid dress for my best friend’s wedding etc. – even with those concerns, of course, my overwhelming perspective was of happiness not doubt or anxiety.

I realised that I had been enjoying experiencing those early symptoms, swelling boobs, bloated tummy (no first timers, that is not a bump… it’s bloating. You baby is the size of a very tiny poppy seed). And feeling so blessed to remember those things you so easily forget – the inexplicable breathlessness and maybe even a bit of nausea.

And then… bam. Gone. No symptoms, no pregnancy, no baby.

It’s hard. And whilst it’s hard for everyone it’s got to be much harder for those further down the line and it’s almost definitely harder for those still waiting for their first child.

I was grateful at least to be distracted by losing myself in a moment watching Miss Z play. I never stopped being aware of my blessings.

The first day I had to go to the doctors and get blood tests, I couldn’t stop crying anyway so I just took the day off and for the first time since I can’t even remember when, I told everyone at work I was not available. I did no work that day. Unheard of!

I worked from home the following day and then went into the office for the following two days. But it wasn’t without its challenges, and during that first day in the office, I said to my manager that I would need a personal leave day to end the week.

I also made the decision to tell her what was happening. And I am so glad I did. That level of transparency means that your manager gets to understand why you need some time off or time out. I mean, if you have a good level of trust with your boss then it is possible you can just leave it as saying it’s a personal trauma or something (trauma sounds so dramatic though). It’s hard to know what’s best to do in these situations. But I just followed my instincts.

By the end of the week we went away camping  – we had planned to go anyway, but went a bit earlier than planned. When we first arrived at our destination in the beautiful region of Port Stephens we walked along the beach at dusk, and there was a group of dolphins darting around in the shallows. It was a beautiful moment, one I won’t forget.

Sadly, it wasn’t enough to transport me out of the small black hole I was still trying to clamber out of.

Things eventually came to a head when hubby and I had a fight over something silly that he said that I took really personally. We were just driving off from the campsite for a day of exploring and as we had slowed to pull out onto the road I jumped out the car and stormed off. I went and found a quiet bench by the water and just cried. I was desperately trying to get some control back over my emotions – even tried to put my meditating app on… but in doing so I dropped my (brand new) phone and smashed the screen. At this point I think I wailed. Then I called Mr OC. That in itself shows where I was at – we are both so stubborn and I usually hold out way longer in the “not speaking” stakes. He drove back and picked me up and the crying continued for a bit longer until he made me feel better – which, thankfully he aced on this occasion. I just felt useless and a mess of emotions.

From there, it did start to get better. We were about a month or so away from Christmas and there was too much happening to dwell on it any longer, and really, I didn’t want to.

Something I did notice was that by Christmas, with the busy-ness that comes with the end of the year but also, a very full-on year coming to an end, I was feeling so burnt out. I wasn’t sleeping well, my skin was a nightmare – all the typical signs that your body (and mind) is in need of a break. By Christmas Eve, inevitably I was sick and ended up spending Christmas day feeling basically, completely rubbish.

Beach dog walks, a major slow down in the pace of life and lots of rest have been a simple yet effective combination for rejuvenation. I started 2019 feeling refreshed and ready to tackle the year. Most importantly I feel positive, and when I feel like that, I can keep my head screwed on. Bad mornings, evenings… or days… they come and go but keeping my head above water, keeping my outlook one of acceptance and gratitude for the most part is much easier than wading through the knee-high crap. It’s not always that simple but most times I can hit the reset button and get back there.

So, why did I decide to share this story? Well, in truth, I’m still nervous about it. I feel weird that people I work with and others I know will read this. But since my miscarriage, two close friends have also had the same thing happen. Of all the friends I have pregnant or trying to conceive it just goes to show that the statistics are not far wrong. And sadly, because of that, so many of us will personally have this experience. And on the flip side of that – many of us happily won’t!!

And yet, despite the vast numbers of us it happens to, it’s not the “done” thing to talk about it – and I just can’t understand why (except if you don’t want people to know you’re trying for a baby)! Grief, on any level should be dealt with in the way that is going to help that person process the loss. For me, writing it down, sharing my burden, and hoping I help someone else going through the same are my reasons for putting this blog out there.

If you’re still here and read to the end – thank you!! And, if you’re reading this because you’re going through (or maybe have been through) pregnancy loss, baby loss, any loss – I send my love and prayers and encourage you to reach out to your support network (or to me!) if you need a chat. It’s ok not to be ok… and one day you will feel better.

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.

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!

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.

But…

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….

Ha! 

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.

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.

YAY!

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

 

Common second trimester stuff

So, after I wrote my last post about how pregnancy had (maybe) turned me into a crazy lady more self-assured version of old self, I discovered this blog:

The Top 10 Sucky Things About Being Married to a Pregnant Woman which was the result of this equally excellent blog on the same site:

The Top 10 Sucky Things About Being Pregnant 

I decided to jot down what I’ve experienced (and what I’ve escaped) amongst the common sucky (and less sucky) symptoms of pregnancy in the second trimester. In honour of the last days of the ‘best’ trimester.

The Cankles! Amusingly my first bout of cankles came on about 3 weeks ago. I posted a status on Facebook simply saying ‘The cankles have arrived’ which prompted mostly amused, slight sympathetic, happy-for-me responses. The funniest part was the people of my mother’s generation not knowing what cankles are – which of course I explained. My cankles have been coming and going – I was advised by the midwife to put a box under my desk and rest my feet on that seeing as I sit most of the day. And when I get home to spend more time on my lovely new recliner chair. I do try – but I usually have to fight the cat for it (Beau) and sometimes I realise I haven’t sat down or put my feet up all evening. I don’t mean to – there’s just stuff to do! My mother recommended I take myself into a quiet part of the office, lie on the floor and put my feet up on the wall to get the circulation going. Yeah… my office is as big as large apartment and the other rooms all have glass walls. I’m not sure I fancy my workmates walking in on rotund self trying to roll into or out of this position. Let alone face the question ‘what exactly are you doing?’ [you crazy pregnant woman].

Mind you my thread veins might force me into submission on that front. Yes thread veins have started appearing. I guess I should count my lucky stars they’re not (yet) varicose veins.

Speaking of unsightly marks, despite a panicked check of my torso (and surrounding) areas each morning as I frantically rub in lotion, I haven’t yet found any stretch marks… But I do have some on my legs from my teenage years… so I there’s still time I guess. Probably jinxed it now anyway.

This was me a couple of weeks back – look I’m wearing ACTIVE WEAR. I’m not such a fatty after all… I do train occasionally.

Yes, pregnant women get bigger boobs. Yes my boobs immediately got bigger (and so sore and sensitive… thankfully the sore has gone with the horrid first trimester). But I’d like to just clarify for us smaller chested ladies that mine are still containable. It’s funny how it becomes ok to comment on a woman’s boobs if she’s pregnant though. Really I should like it to just be my very best friends and my mother. Anyone else… it’s just weird.

And yes huge nipples yes. How womanly. [insert eye roll]

Peeing… ahh yes, the infamous peeing of a pregnant gal. Well, unlike some ladies I haven’t seemed to be on the toilet all the live long day, which in itself is quite miraculous for someone I consider to be quite a frequent pee-er anyway. And whilst I do wake most  night’s for a pee this was not unheard of before I was with child. The weirdest addition to my bladder activity is when Jellybean is laying right on top of it and I pee and feel like I need to go again. Or I get up out of my seat and need to go immediately because of the way she’s laying. But then get to the loo and it’s just a dribble. The absolute worse part is sneezing and letting a bit of wee out sometimes, or somebody really making you laugh and realising you have to get serious immediately for fear of weeing yourself.

Insomnia – yes. Insomnia is my friend as mentioned in my last blog. I have nights where I can sleep pretty well but I still feel asthough even on those days I wake far more frequently – usually just to roll over or stop drooling on my pillow. And I think that’s to do with learning to sleep with a different body, or maybe because subconciously Jellybean’s moving around stirs me. They (the mysterious ‘they’) say it’s all practicefor when baby is born and having sleepless nights and being attuned to her needs. Frankly, I’d quite like to bank up my sleep now. Sigh.

For ages I’d read about how you might start feeling like your back is always sore by a certain point in pregnancy. For ages it didn’t happen. Now it’s just standard – sometimes it’s my lower back right into my tailbone. Other times my shoulders are absolutely killing me. I WILL be treating myself to at least one pregnancy massage in my 3rd trimester. On Saturday, without thinking about it or deliberately setting out to do so, I stood up ALL day (more on that in my next blog about Nesting). By the time Mr OC got back from his jobs he had on that day and suggested we had down to the beachfront for some Asian (I’m mad on dumplings at the moment) I could barely walk or lower myself into a seat. The poor guy had to walk SO slowly with me. But I was insistent to walk the usual 10 minute stroll. Old habits die hard.

An expanding girth – cue so many people making HILARIOUS fat jokes and also the inability to see my bikini line. Sorry hubby, I don’t know what it looks like down there between waxes but there is very little I can do about it. I’m also just about getting to the point where reaching for stuff I drop is too much hassle  – and if I do it in public I’m afraid of being stared at (in case I reach the floor and cannot get back up). I dropped a $20 note on the way to the bus stop the other day and then dropped my Opal card about 10 seconds later. I was desperately trying to pick it up with speed and agility so as not to cause people to a) walk into my up turned arse and b) not be one of those people I tsk at when I’m in a hurry. I did this kind of sideways squat thing and tutted at myself instead. It was neither comfortable nor very efficient.

Generally feeling behemoth. Nothing more to add here.

One thing I’ve found mentioned a lot in articles and blogs in the uninvited touching of pregnant bellies. I have to say, no one has really done this to me. Thankfully.

Ahh, food glorious food. Next week I have my glucose tolerance test and I may get told to lay off the sugar. We’ll see. Maybe it just feels I’ve eaten a lot of sugar because I used to be pretty good before. But what the pregnant lady wants, the pregnant lady currently eats. Some days I just want to eat everything in sight and it actually gets a little embarrassing when I appear to be eating more than my husband. (I’m actually not if you compare portion sizes but please bear in mind – small white chick, broadly built Maori guy who does physical work… i.e. does not sit on his arse all day like his piggy wife).

Speaking of baby dadda…

Lastly let us pay respect to my hubby. Fortunately, I do think I’ve not been the crying wreck I thought pregnancy might turn me into. After all I am quite a ‘crier’ and I have a tendency to the weepy when I’m tired (just ask my mother). But mostly my crazy emotions have veered less to that and more to a “What the heck did you just say to me!?!” = overreaction to anything that comes out of his mouth, poor bugger.

 

 

Who is this chick?

As I come to the end of my second trimester I have been reflecting on how pregnancy has changed me. And I don’t mean in the way that I am obsessed with all things baby and have lost my ability to have a conversation about anything else. Some of it is just the infamous baby brain… but some of it is a slight shift in priority and preferences. For example my obsession with healthy eating – back seat (to a certain extent – I’m still healthy but I’m a lot more relaxed). And on the flip side having the balls to speak out and say what I damn well mean –  well, that’s taken a front seat. My ideal of looking on the positive side – well, mostly this is still intact. But some hours of the day my attitude becomes more like a me of my early/mid twenties – e.g. life can just kiss my arse with it’s crappy crappiness, I don’t even give crap… and can someone just pass me the chocolate and a large bottle of red. Argh. Better just make it a kilo of chocolate.

I’m sure that in part this is down to hormones – which, by the way, are sneaky, sneaky things! About 10 days ago I was on such a high, literally no one could have talked me down from my number 9 cloud. I was excited about being pregnant, excited about being mum to my kicking little girl, I had a buzz about everything going on in our lifeand felt like there was no stopping hubby and me.

Fast forward a week later – this Saturday following a week of terrible sleep I felt like a zombie. The thought of functioning enough to drive the car, to find an address for the car seat I was picking up, to even remember what else I had to do that day seemed far too much for me to cope with. And I felt oddly gloomy about it all. I decided to pack a second breakfast of Bircher muesli packed with fresh berries and stop at the beach on the drive back so that I could try and feel better. The next day wasn’t much better  – not helped by the cat pooping in the bath and the other cat being sick, followed by the bloody bird having a hissy fit about nothing… while I broke the kettle and flooded the kitchen, shorting the electrics. Of course, Mr OC would’ve had to be away this weekend of all times! He may have saved the kettle going to appliance heaven.

(Btw I love(d) my kettle so much – it has (had) different settings based on what drink you intend on having. And it was pretty. It was also a wedding present – apologies to the lovely friends who bought this for us if you’re reading this. I am going to replace it and love with it as much vigour and hopefully less baby brain.)

But that there is a fine example of the havoc changing hormones can have on you.

Insomnia and crappy sleep doesn’t help either. Apparently this is something I’m being ‘prepared’ for impending motherhood. Well thanks but anyone who knows me knows how much I treasure my minimum 8 hours of good sleep. I don’t cope well with prolonged absence of this institution. I feel achey, moody, and lacking enthusiasm  – and over the last couple of weeks I seem to have moved into crappy sleep as the new normal. It also affects my ability to think straight! These days, if I wake up at 2 or 3 or 4am well, I just kind of grin and bear it and hope I’ll eventually sleep. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. And on the days I don’t I have a nice bath and try and make up for it the following night. Who’d have thought I’d come to accept poor sleep!?

Certainly the better slept I am the better my coping mechanisms of course. I mentioned in a previous blog that during my first trimester one of the ‘symptoms’ I experienced was the inability to accept any BS. Where the old me might have trod diplomatically around something I didn’t agree with, the new me just called BS and said what I felt about it. This hasn’t disappeared in my second trimester, although in my better moods I am able to present my opinion much more rosily than I might if I’m having a shocker of a day hormone wise. I think some of this comes with age and self assuredness anyway, and also with feeling content and stable in your own circumstances. It comes from knowing what is important – and being pregnant really highlights those things to you. When you’re going through the miracle of growing a human life in you, it puts things in perspective. And when you know that you need to prepare your life for being responsible for that human, again it gives you a clear view of what is a big deal, what is worth the stress, and what isn’t.

And I know I’ll continue to keep learning these things as I become a parent and as I move through the different stages of my life.

But here’s an example of me refusing to be caught up in BS. I was waiting to get on the bus and this guy starts talking to me but I can’t hear him because I had my headphones in, so I smiled and took my headphones out and politely replied “I’m sorry what was that” – “Don’t push in infront of me” he says in a whiney voice. Just to clarify I wasn’t. Although I could have looked like I was as I’d move past another guy who had indicated he wasn’t getting on the bus and I was now waiting for people to get off the bus first. So I just replied “I wasn’t. There you go…” indicating for him to get on the bus now the people had finished disembarking. He walked onto the bus and whilst scanning his Opal card turned to me in his whiney voice and “Yes you were.” Like some child arguing with a sibling. “You were pushing in front of me.” I just sighed, chuckled and said “Oh for god’s sake man chill out, no I wasn’t.”

Besides which, even if I had pushed in front of him (albeit accidentally mistaking him for not getting on the bus, because he wasn’t moving forward) I was one person. The bus wasn’t full. On principle I don’t like queue jumpers either, but for goodness sake. Seriously? Silly whiney man. Chill your beans. And considering I laughed it off, I reckon I was doing well. It could’ve been different on a different day.

There is a side to this that does require some mastering  – I seem to have lost a filter on what comes out of my mouth, which is both marvellous and with potential to be devastating. For the most part it’s been mildly funny and (at least for me) quite refreshing. For example, at my friend’s recent baby shower we were playing a game where you had to create a fake bump with a balloon and then put a golf ball between your knees and waddle to a small bucket to try and land said golf ball into the bucket. This, supposedly, is like being extremely pregnant. It was tres amusing I have to say. Cue a girl who had an outfit that didn’t really allow the balloon to be up high enough – as such her bump was very low lying… very. So what did yours truly say “Oh my god it looks like your baby is in your vagina!” really loudly across the garden in front of an array of people I mostly had met for the first time that day. Yep, sorry everyone. Filter has been removed.

Usually that part of me is reserved for after a couple of glasses of vino. But not these days. Apparently I now come pre-loosened up.

Strangely, in all this I feel more certain of who I am than I have in all my life. Check back in a few months when I can’t remember what my first name is due to sleep deprivation….

How did pregnancy change you?

 

The pregnancy panic

A few weeks back I started a blog about how I wasn’t sure what was going on with me that went something a bit like  “I’m not sure quite what’s kicked it off or whether it’s just my mood, maybe hormones are playing havoc… I don’t know. All I know is, in the last few days I have started stressing and that it started with a little niggle”

Hormones? No… surely not?

Of course hormones you silly, pregnant woman.

Don’t they make everything that bit more… fun… ?

Back then (around 18 weeks) I was stressing about things like how it would be nice to feel the baby move and spent two days just obsessing over it and trying to feel something, and reading every online baby forum known to man.

And one night, just before I was about to hit the hay, I suddenly started measuring up for the cot. And then mildly panicking about the space for it. Two hours later and way past my usual sleep time (especially since being pregnant!) I had done a huge Google search. There I was… in bed, researching mini cots/mini cribs, looking up the pros and cons of bassinets, reading the blogs of first time parents in tiny New York apartments, studio flats and really winding myself into a frenzy.

I hate feeling disorganised and more than that I hate feeling as though I am under-prepared – that I don’t have what I need or think I might need available to me. It sends my ocd/control freak/perfectionist nature into overdrive.

So that evening led me to disturbed sleep and I awoke feeling dissatisfied and even more niggled. But it didn’t end there. The next day I started getting my knickers into an even tighter twist about all the other ‘baby’ stuff I still hadn’t sorted.

If you’ve ever had a baby in recent times then you probably know what’s coming when I mention the word PRAMS. Of all the overwhelming, ‘kill-me-now I can’t even make a decision about what’s the best mode of push-transport for my unborn child’ decisions this has to take the biscuit. Did you think choosing your house was hard? Picking a car? Well, try understanding the range of prams and strollers (buggies) available to new parents  – and they range in price from a couple of hundred bucks to the celeb fanatacised brands on which you can choose to mortgage a portion of your house.

Is it just me or is it ever-so slightly ridiculous to throw well-on-the-way to $2000 at a (often ugly looking) non-motorised device that you’re going to lug your child and shopping around in? Not to mention that a child is going to spew in, that is going to roll through dog poop, murky puddles and probably some carelessly disposed of chewing gum. I mean, yes, your child must be safe and comfortable. And yes, you want to be able to get around the supermarket without losing your shit as you knock over the display of tuna tins. But… seriously? I didn’t even know what I was going to want because I  haven’t had a child yet, so I can’t possibly understand the things that are going to work for me and my baby and those that are not. I can guess that I might want to run with my pram. I can presume that I want the handle adjustable so Mr OC can share the pushing. But man-oh-man, is my child going to prefer to face me or not… well, shall I shout down into my uterus now and see if I can get one kick for no two for yes?!

In the end I was rescued by my lovely (also pregnant and due any day now) friend Sarah and we went ‘baby stuff shopping’. This helped so much. I was able to actually look at and play with a whole bunch of prams and very quickly narrowed it down to two favourites within my budget. I got the assistant to show me the ins and outs of both and left to mull it over.  A couple of weeks later and one went on sale  – I ordered it and hey presto one decision/problem/task down.

Since that day, the majority of the time I’m not letting things overwhelm me. I have actually been enjoying my pregnancy so much and feel very lucky to have had limited discomfort so far, and no complications. Hormones do play a huge part in these things – and there’s a blog to follow on that… but overall, I’ve come to just do as I would do with everything that seems overwhelming and take it a day at a time doing as much as I can.

And it’s funny how if you just calm down and let things be, stuff has a way of working itself out.

Oddly enough, in the recent weeks we have ended up with more space in our flat as my stepdaughter moved back to NZ to finish schooling there. And I have a husband who is now working a new job that has much better hours meaning he’s around to help out and to get jobs done around the house (and talk me through decisions and thought processes). Both these things have made small but significant differences to prepping for this change in our life. However the biggest adjustment is attitude – I can honestly say, even when my legs ankles and feet have swollen so much they’ve merged into one, and when my back is sore and I am lying awake at night for no reason (pregnancy insomnia) listening to an incessant owl outside the window… that I am loving every minute of this amazing experience. I feel extremely lucky and extremely happy, and sometimes I’m not sure what I did to deserve such a gift.