I wish I was pregnant

We are finally beginning to make some progress with the whole sleep thing. I feel human enough to do something with my time other than mope about, even if my past two attempts at an early night (as sleeping from 8pm-1am would mean a WHOLE FIVE HOURS sleep in one go!!!) haven't exactly resulted in more sleep. Stupid brain won't switch off.

For those others of you, desperately searching for the answer to that baby-nighttime-sleep problem, it's simple. Go on a holiday in the UK that involves a loooong drive. Baby sleeps in car, baby has proper daytime sleep, ergo baby sleeps at night. Oh, and a big cot is helpful for a baby who can roll so they can sleep in whatEVER position they choose.

In the meantime, I got to thinking about how NOT being pregnant anymore really sucks. Don't get me wrong, I do NOT want another baby (not right now anyway thanks), but there are elements of pregnancy that make life sooo much easier...

Like my hair not falling out - I swear, I emptied a FULL fistful of hair into the bin after my shower this morning. It was disgusting. And think how much I must have missed in the past month which is now currently residing in the plughole, soon to completely block up the bath!

And what's with my hair getting all greasy? During pregnancy I could easily skip the shampoo for one day. Now, it's like I have a big sign on my forehead and a siren screeching "not washed, not washed".

Breastfeeding is commonly known as ample excuse to continue "eating for two" long after the birth of your child... but I have to say I've noticed the weight gain and have concluded that it is time to stop that fourth meal of the day when Felix has his tea. Eating his leftovers is ok though, right?

Not carrying round a big old bump means you lose a lot of people's sympathy too. No-one offers to carry things anymore or make me drinks. I'm not expected to need to sleep at any given opportunity or need help around the house. But the truth is, your body doesn't return to normal (what is normal?) that quickly, and whether it's first, second or (I'm sure) subsequent child, it's a shock to the system that takes more than a couple of months to adjust to. It's a whole new life again.

And the best thing about being pregnant... no periods OR contraception. I'm very happy to still be period-free (oh breastfeeding - you ARE my friend), but did not enjoy having a doctor messing around inside me again, even if it does mean I can now forget about contraception for five years. Next time, it's the male pill. Let's see how he likes it.

My labour of love

Having spent my entire labour on twitter, writing about each stage, it does seem a little ironic that it’s taken me over a month to get my birth story up on my blog.

Well, it started with my waters breaking. I was reading Felix his bedtime story when I felt a pop. Nothing else happened, not even when I stood up. I sort of expected a gush.

Eventually I felt some waters trickling out but not very much. Whilst mildly freaking out about what was to come, I ate my dinner and called my mum over to babysit. Then, I rang the hospital only to find out that they were closed to admissions and I needed to contact the other local hospital. Eek!

So we stayed at home and watched a bit of Michael McIntyre (laughing releases endorphins which lessens the pain, apparently) and timed contractions. Eventually we decided we should try to sleep, but mum was in our bed, so Paul got out the sofa bed and some blankets and dozed off whilst I closed my eyes. Contractions were around every 10 minutes so I didn’t get to sleep. But the rest was nice and twitter kept me company!

As contractions became more like 5 minutes apart, I rang the hospital again to find they had re-opened - wahoo! Grabbed another bite to eat and then we headed off, in the snow. I had a mild panic as the car wouldn’t reverse of our sloped driveway, but we got there in the end.

Of course, as soon as we arrived at hospital (around 3am), the contractions slowed down and became less regular again. And on examining me, the doctor couldn’t even confirm that my waters had broken. So at 6am I got transferred to a ward and Paul went home for a sleep. I would have loved to have got some sleep myself, but what with a contraction creeping up on me every half hour at the LONGest and the sound of newborn babies crying in the room, there was no chance. I may have dozed, but that was it.

At 11am, Paul, Felix and my mum arrived to visit. I was already missing Felix despite having put him to bed just the night before. I blame it on the emotions! He was a bit restless so mum took him away again and Paul stayed hoping we’d give birth soon. We started trying to speed things up by walking round and round the ward and even sideways up and down the stairs.

We got back to regular 5 minute contractions, although there was still the occasional longer gap. But I was having to concentrate on breathing through the pain. I enquired at what point I would go back to the delivery suite and the midwife explained that I’d be examined as I'd need to be in established labour (3cm dilated) before they could send me back. She also advised me that there was no gas and air until I got back to delivery.

Now I understand that they must often have people demanding pain relief before they really need it. But not me. By the time I was asking her the above questions, I really needed it already. I might have looked very calm, in control and without pain to her, but I knew I was getting there.

Anyway, I did as I was told, took my painkillers and got in the bath. I hated the bath. Maybe because of the stupid angle I had to sit at, but the contractions hurt way more and I got out after only two contractions.

On returning to the midwife (around 5.45pm) to ask for pain relief she said she would get me monitored before an examination - I was a bit narked by this as I KNEW I needed pain relief and just wanted to get back to the delivery suite as soon as possible.

I probably made them think even more, that I wasn’t too close, when I went and got a plate full of food. Well, I didn’t want to miss dinner time (seriously, I love the NHS food THAT much). I managed to eat most of my carb fest (pasta, creamed potatoes AND chips all on one plate) before the midwife arrived to monitor me. I did have to shout at Paul to take the plate off me a few times and hit GO on the contraction timer for me. ("Tray, ‘start’, agh, ohh, oooh, owww, etc.")

The midwife came and strapped me up. She witnessed a couple of these contractions and, I think, began to realise that I was further along than they’d assumed. Personally I felt sorry for the new mums in the same room, having to listen to me!

The baby’s heartbeat was fine so she got on with the internal exam but struggled to find my cervix. In the meantime I was contracting away, writhing around on the bed and sobbing. She finally found and pulled forward my cervix (I guess that was the bit that really hurt then?!) and told me, not only that my amniotic sac was bulging (i.e. waters had not broken) but also that I was 6cm dilated.

Hello. Established labour. WHERE’s the pain relief then?

Unfortunately, the baby didn't like what she'd done and his heart rate dropped. Significantly.

"I don't want you to panic but I'm going to pull the emergency button and get you straight onto delivery".

Panic? Me? No chance. I'm in immense pain and you're going to get me to the pain relief quickly. I LOVE YOU.

I remember worrying a bit that Paul would panic though. Anyway. Suddenly there were people everywhere wheeling me and my bed through the doors and into the lift. This is when I wrote my last tweet, at 6.20pm and handed my phone over to Paul to keep safe.

Back on delivery the contractions were coming back to back and I just managed to squeeze out the words "I want to push".

My delivery midwife told me to go with it if I wanted to push. But she also wanted me to move onto another bed which was near impossible at the time. Every time I thought a contraction was easing off and I tried to move another one came along and I was crippled over, head hanging off the side of my bed just sucking on the gas tube.

On top of this she also wanted to attach a probe to the baby’s head to monitor his heartbeat. I guess I was moving too much for the external fetal monitor to work - whoops! But likewise, as there was no let up between contractions, there was no way she was going to get to do it.

I have no idea where Paul was at this point, bless him, but he told me later he’d been really worried by my lack of cooperation!

Eventually I managed to crawl across to the bed and get almost into my preferred position. I had been half heartedly pushing all this time, partly because in the back of my mind, I was only 6cm dilated and didn’t want to do myself any damage, but mainly because I was in so much pain that I couldn’t control myself enough to push.

Finally in a decent position, sucking on the gas and air like my life depended on it, I began to regain control of my body and started to push properly.

Wow, did it feel different to my first labour.

Ok, so they think maybe my hind waters had broken, meaning the TOP of the bag broke and any water behind his bottom may have trickled out. But the fluid around his body and in front of his head was still there which made it feel like I was pushing out a bulging balloon of water. It seemed to be much harder work than my first labour where my waters had properly broken and I was pushing out a head instead.

All of a sudden they told me he was crowning. One more push and Elliot’s head was out. I don't think I believed the midwives so I put a hand down to feel him!! Clearly the gas and air had done something odd to me!

The next push seemed much more effort than I remember from my first labour too, but out he popped and, as requested, they put him straight onto my chest. Totally different to Felix being whisked away for prematurity health checks. I just held on tight to Elliot whilst trying to calm down and regain control over my breathing.

Elliot was born at 7pm, weighing 7lb 1oz. I think it’s quite normal to feel totally elated and proud of yourself after pushing out a little baby, but I have to say, holding him immediately afterwards whilst recovering from the shock, makes it the MOST special feeling in the world.

Man Flu and a Show

I have man flu. It's official. I know it's just a cold, but it's the worst cold I've ever had. Have been totally knocked for six and want to just wallow in bed all day.

I woke up feeling fine on Thursday, but by the end of the day it was already 'really bad'. And I barely slept Thursday night. Friday was spent snoozing on the sofa, napping and then off to bed early. Not that I went to sleep early. I reckon I got about 4 hours sleep for the 4th night running and today have been feeling just as terrible.

Only this morning, whilst daddy and toddler were out burning off some energy at soft play and in the snow, I had a show.

It wasn't quite how I expected a show to be (of course last time, my waters broke and that was the first I knew that anything was happening). I noticed a bit of colour in my undies (sorry fellas) so had a good look at the loo roll when I went for a wee. Nothing. Stood up and there sunk down at the bottom of the water was a lightly red/brown squiggly looking thing. Eeek!

So after texting hubby with the good news, I settled myself back in bed and started timing contractions. Not for the first time. They seemed to be fairly regular at 15 minute intervals, but after hubby got home, I missed a couple, or they didn't happen. Eventually I decided that sleep was the best thing for me so I went off for my nap and ignored anything else. Haven't really noticed anything since either. But at least a show suggests it's going to happen soon.

Maybe, if my body is really good to me, it will recover from man flu before it goes into labour.

Although, now I've had a sign that it's imminent, I'm quite excited at the prospect of having a November baby instead of adding to the endless birthdays in the month of December. Fingers crossed.

The Little Long Lost Luxuries

Whilst in the depths of late pregnancy, experiencing fatness like I have never experienced before, I thought I'd cheer myself up with a little list. It also whiled away some of the hours spent sitting around in hospital last week (the ones where I wasn't asleep anyway).

So here are the Top Ten things I'm looking forward to when I'm no longer pregnant. And I've not mentioned anything about the baby, cause that's a bit obvious (and I'm not the gushy type)!!

1. A brie and grape baguette - I'm craving it purely because I can't have it.

2. Laying flat on my back - I manage about 5 mins at the moment before I feel bad about squashing whichever artery it is and reducing everyone's blood flow.

3. Reaching my feet - not struggling to put shoes on.

4. Boiled egg and soldiers - in my new egg cups I got from Jamie at Home. Y.U.M.

5. A good night's sleep - ok, I'll have a newborn, who am I kidding?!? One day, maybe.

6. Cuddling my toddler without fearing for my bump - those kicky legs are just WAY out of control.

7. Walking upstairs without having to rest at the top - seriously exhausting work. If only we had a downstairs loo.

8. Being able to distinguish where ankle stops and foot begins - actually, they're not that badly swollen at the moment, but I'm sure this will soon change again.

9. Picking things up from the floor - well it'd be nice if I had no need to, but with a small child and small toys, it's an inevitable task. And one that is almost a complete physical impossibility at present.

10. Having my husband at home for a few days - it may not be the pleasant, relaxing experience I'm hoping for but it'll be nice to have adult company for a few days running anyway as I'm not managing to get out so much anymore.

Anyone else who's expecting... what are you missing the most or looking forward to post-birth?

Remember Remember the 4th of November

Thursday 4 November started off as a seemingly normal day. I was happily making some lunch for the husband to take to work (point-scoring) when I suddenly needed to take a break to sit down.

Then I went to the loo. Then I went for a lie-down.

Something wasn't right. I just felt extra tired and had a bit of lower backache and.... oh, hang on. I'm not, I can't be...

I hinted to Paul that I didn't want him to go to work. I cried a lot. And eventually we agreed he would go to the office and get his laptop, call me and if I still wanted him home, he'd come back and could work from here if needs be.

Well, I called him and said I'd just had a bout of diarrhoea and he jumped straight in the car to come back to me, knowing this could be a real sign of impending labour.

I was having a few contractions, probably just braxton hicks, but the thing I couldn't figure out, was that I felt really really sick too. I wasn't really sure if this happens in labour and it hadn't happened to me last time. In the meantime I completely emptied my bowels and we called the hospital. They suggested it could be an upset tummy and I should hang on at home for a while, if contractions started coming regularly and more painfully then I should go in.

Then I was sick. Real 'body trying to empty itself' sick. And I felt a lot better. I sat downstairs and watched a bit of telly with the poor neglected toddler and when he'd had his lunch and headed off for a nap, I headed off to bed too. I was still having contractions, but assumed they were just braxton hicks and tried to get some rest to see if they calmed down.

My next vomit was so intense - and with nothing left in my stomach to come out - that I woke the toddler prematurely from his nap. Several more vomits followed, each one coming on so suddenly that I was glad to have the sick bucket to hand on my dash to the bathroom.

We started timing the contractions at about 4pm and for the next 3 hours they didn't stop. But they weren't regular. Sometimes the gap would be 2 minutes, sometimes 10. But they did not stop. We rang the community midwife who insisted we go to hospital so we arranged childcare, and off we went.

The car journey seemed to make the contractions more regular, frequent and intense. At this point I was feeling really glad we'd decided to go. But once we got into hospital and they'd taken a swab (yes, more probing down below), they confirmed that I was not in labour and it was probably the irritation of the tummy bug making my womb contract.

A doctor fitted me up with a canular in my wrist and due to my dislike of blood, the discomfort it caused and my predisposed vomit situation, I threw up whilst he took samples from me. Then I was hooked up to a drip to rehydrate me as my urine sample was showing all sorts of nasty things from the bug and the total lack of anything else in me.

Eventually, after a very long wait (and dull for Paul as I'd drifted off to sleep), I was moved down to the maternity ward at midnight. Paul came home (where he had to sleep in a musty old sleeping bag as mum hadn't been able to find our spare duvet!!) and I got a bit of sleep whilst sweltering in the heat, unable to get to a window as I was connected to things.

Friday was spent at hospital having a few checks, sleeping lots, eating a bit at a time and awaiting discharge home. Around lunchtime, my urine showed that I was still burning off my own body fat (I know, sounds like a positive thing, but really it's quite bad) instead of burning off sugar so I was asked to stay in until teatime to provide another sample for checking. But given my odd love for hospital food, this was hardly a problem for me.

And I managed to get home just in time for the boy's bedtime - not that he was exactly thrilled to see me. He'd been having far too much fun with Nanny and Grandad all day as I'd sent Paul off to the wedding we were supposed to be attending! Still, I got a bit of a cuddle and time to sit on the sofa eating little snacks.

I can safely say that having a tummy bug is not a pleasant experience ever, but particularly this late in pregnancy. I am relieved, however, not to have given birth prematurely again.

This time next week, it'll be a different matter. I just want to pass the 36 week marker (next Weds) then I'm happy to pop as soon as possible as the sooner he comes out, the smaller he'll be. And small babies fit out much more easily!

Could it be tomorrow?

This time last pregnancy I was struggling my way through what seemed like a very long day.

Having left work the day before, I spent the morning of my first day's maternity leave putting together a stand for our moses basket which we hadn't yet bought(!) and in the afternoon, we did a bit of shopping for nursery furnishings. Well, we did a very small amount of shopping as I was way too tired and had to give up and come home.

Then, the next day, I gave birth. At 33weeks+6days gestation, over 6 weeks early.

So will I be repeating this premature birthing option tomorrow? I doubt it. Despite the extreme tiredness I am feeling today, there is no reason for me to give birth prematurely this time and I am nowhere near the size yet that I was last time. And, thankfully, neither are my ankles!! My tiredness today can be put down to a toddler who didn't sleep well last night and a big old shopping trip on Saturday. Well, we need to be prepared for Christmas early if anyone's to get any gifts this year!

So from 4pm tomorrow, I hope to be venturing into the unknown phase of late pregnancy. Given how huge and heavy I already feel most days, I'm not expecting to take much enjoyment from this, but it will be a new experience for me!

Hospital Bag

I learnt from my first birth, which was 6 weeks premature, that if the baby comes early, you don’t necessarily need to provide anything for them in the first few days - the hospital will see you through (bless ‘em). So when thinking about what I need to have packed ready to go, it’s all about me, me me.

When (and if) I reach 35 weeks, I’ll pop some basic baby bits in a separate bag. Three vests/bodysuits, three sleepsuits, a cardigan, a hat, coat (do we have one? eek), travel blanket, three muslin cloths, a pack of nappies and a handful of cotton wool. That should do it for an overnight visit.

As for me, well... When heading into hospital to give birth, you need to pack as if you’re going to stay somewhere overnight (that’s pretty heavy packing in my book) and you also need to try to pre-empt what you will want, or need whilst in labour. Pretty difficult if you’ve never done it before and actually still pretty difficult if you have.

I had a pretty straight-forward first labour (apart from the prematurity aspect) and fully intend for this one to be the same (I’m sure I will now be punished for saying that). I’m going to attempt to list everything I will be packing, some items will undoubtedly be thrown in last minute, and then I’m going to actually go and pack most of it. Hopefully, my list may be of some help to any first-timers out there. Old-timers might also be able to point out anything I’ve stupidly forgotten.

• Maternity notes, kind of vital.
• Toiletries - handy tip for the shower, a 2in1 shampoo as there will be no time to relax. I’ll be in a rush to return to the baby. Hairbrush and tummy oil are included in this section.
• Makeup - I didn’t bother with makeup last time, but as I hope to leave hospital the next day this time, I figure it might be nice to leave looking my normal self. Maybe.
• Two pairs of pyjamas (in case I bleed all over the first pair), slippers and a dressing gown.
• A Pillow for a better night’s sleep - not that you really sleep when you have a new baby to gaze at.
• An oh-so-attractive hairband to keep my hair out of my face whilst I’m pushing. Who needs the distraction?
• Snacks and drinks. For me and for my husband. Yes there’s a shop, but no, I do not want to be left on my own whilst you go and buy yourself a sandwich. And if the midwife is mean and says I can’t have a meal “just in case”, I’ll damn well be eating something the second she leaves the room.
• Phone charger. I’ll be busy tweeting as well as texting all my friends and family. I don’t think I’d be happy if I had to wait until I got home to tell you all about it.
• Camera. Obviously. Maybe not my professional one though as I won’t let my husband use it.
• Disposable (or just old) pants and maternity pads.
• Notepad and pen - for moments of boredom and to write down what items husband needs to bring me from home (and where he will find them).
• Something to wear whilst giving birth. Not that I made it out of my normal clothes last time. Not until baby was out anyway.
• Magazine or other entertainment, to help while away the hours if it’s not instant
• Clean clothes. That’ll be maternity jeans, breastfeeding top and bra and something warm to wear over it all. And a few pairs of socks. No cold feet here thank you.
• Gift for the toddler. The baby is going to be bringing a present for his big brother (straight from the womb) so I’ll be taking this to hospital in case he comes to visit.

Enough talking about it, I’m actually going to go and pack some of it now. About time too.

Time to get ready...

At 32 weeks pregnant, I've suddenly realised how unprepared I am for the arrival of a new baby.

I mean, if it happened now, I think I'd have to go to hospital alone and leave my husband behind, ravaging the loft for baby clothes and bedding.

Now don't get me wrong, I wasn't exactly ready first time round. When Felix turned up unexpectedly at 34 weeks, we had no bed for him, no car seat and the nursery was most definitely not ready. We got family sent off to buy the relevant items for us asap so we were ready when he finally left hospital 11 days later and the nursery possibly got decorated when he was about 6 months old. Could have been later.

I feel a little bit panicked at what I still have to do this time. And I probably shouldn't, but this is what I think needs sorting out:

- Last year's tax return. Cause I am NOT going to be able to concentrate on it with a new baby.

- Baby clothes need bringing out of the loft and washing.

- The nursery at least needs to be emptied of our rubbish and have a chest of drawers full of freshly laundered clothes, muslin cloths and nappies.

- Might be nice to paint the nursery too, but not essential pre-birth.

- Pushchair. I haven't yet decided if I will buy a double buggy, get a buggy board for the rubbish pushchair we have (which I'm sure isn't suitable from birth), make the toddler walk everywhere, use a baby sling, or just not go out full stop (this seems very likely).

- My hospital bag. I have old (i.e. disposable without being disposables) pants and maternity pads in a plastic bag. Erm, that's about it. I know I had an 'emergency' bag packed before this point last time, as I had to use the damn thing when my waters broke early.

- It might be an idea to speak to a few people about childcare. Make a note of what dates they're available so I'm not left ringing round various different people for an hour whilst trying to cope with early labour.

- Buy a new baby monitor... toddler broke ours and I don't think I'll be so happy to have the new baby downstairs with me all day with a toddler around to poke the baby awake.

There are other little jobs which I'd like to get done... but I'm realistic about my chances of getting enough peace and quiet from the toddler to actually do them. I guess it's about time I focussed on these bigger jobs and got them done. Or, at the very least, order the husband to get them done.

Anything you think I've forgotten?

Boy/Girl? Who cares?

Well, I do, actually. I've been inspired to write this blogpost as I thought my comment on Garry from the BlogUpNorth's post might go on a little too long.

I made no secret when I first got pregnant that I really wanted a girl. Really really wanted a girl. At my 20-week scan, when they showed me what looked rather distinctly like male genitalia on the screen, I cried. They also informed me that my ovarian cyst was not only still there, but also, no smaller, which was bad news and slightly scary. This may have had a small impact on my crying, but I know it wasn't wholly responsible.

At my 20-week scan this time around, I yet again saw what was clearly male genitalia. Having told myself and anyone who cared to listen, that I didn't mind what sex baby we had this time (as we wanted 3 anyway), I was surprised to find my eyes fill up with water once more and my heart sink a little. I had obviously been harbouring a secret desire which I hadn't even registered myself.

We had always intended to try for a third, but now, I feel there is a little pressure as I still want a daughter so much. What will I do if I end up with three boys? Try again? I doubt it. It's not just that I want a girl... I have this notion that boys are harder work and am already nervous about how I'm going to cope with two of them. Let alone three.

Maybe I should try to explain why I feel such a strong desire for a girl.

I am one of two children. My brother is older than me. Many people say it's nice to have an older brother as he looks after you. Does he? Really? I'm sure there are many long-forgotten instances when my big brother did look out for me in some way, but he certainly didn't stand up for me at school if I needed it and I don't ever particularly remember feeling protected by him at home either. Maybe I have a selective memory as we're not very close these days.

I thought a family with an older sister would be nice, so that she could take a slightly motherly caring role as the oldest. Maybe I was still deluded and there was as much chance of this happening as an older brother protecting his younger siblings. It probably just depends on the individuals.

I also, could only ever envisage myself as a mother to a daughter. Of course, now I have a gorgeous little boy that has changed. But factors such as dealing with puberty also come into play. I've been through female puberty so can deal with explaining it. Male puberty - eek! I dearly hope that my boys will be close enough to me that they can talk to me about anything and I can deal with it. But I feel it would have been much easier with a girl. Been there, done it.

To justify that I think it's OK to have a preference let me continue: I've always been a bit concerned that I'm far too blasé about having children, full stop. Especially as I now only have one ovary. (I confess, I expected it to take a little longer to get pregnant with one ovary gone. I did NOT expect it to happen so instantly. But maybe this gives me good cause to be blasé.) I certainly don't think I, or anyone else should go around worrying about whether or not they'll be able to have children before they've even tried. Worrying for no reason does no-one any good.

I expected to be able to have children. Like I had some sort of right. Having been through the birth process (and such a good experience of it too), I do feel a little more humbled and incredibly honoured that I have been able to have children, both physically able and also finding that right moment in life and the right partner. Not everyone has that chance. So yes, I do understand it being offensive to get concerned about something so trivial as the sex of your child.

Of course, I would prioritise having a healthy baby over having one of my chosen gender. But could we not say that those of us who show a preference for gender are actually no worse than those who wish only for a 'healthy' baby. I mean, define healthy. Many people have children with disabilities or maybe just allergies. They still love their children but would they have been criticised for saying whilst pregnant "I don't mind the gender as long as it's healthy"?

I don't think we should judge people for expressing a gender preference unless it actually affects the way they feel about the child once it has arrived. I see no reason why older children should be offended by their parents wanting a 'different one' this time, if they are part of a happy, loving family. I will have no problem telling my eldest that I had wanted a girl first... but I shall be careful to explain that he was no disappointment. Just not how I would have planned it had planning been an option.

And when I am out exhibiting my two boys in the next few years, I also won't have a problem with people asking if we'll be trying again for a girl - because we will be. One day. If I'm lucky enough to have a third and it's a boy again, I will be gutted and yet still appreciate that I'm a very fortunate person. Any child of mine will be thoroughly loved, no matter how different the child is to what I had hoped.

Advice from an old veteran

Two of my best friends (there's a group of six of us from school who are still really close) are pregnant with their first child. Aside being more pregnant than both of them, I've also been there and done it all before... and survived the first two years, just. Thinking about offering them helpful insights and gems of advice has made me reflect a little. So here goes with my top tips for new mums-to-be.

1. The birth is the easy bit

I think many people spend pregnancy worrying mainly about getting a huge baby out through a relatively small hole. Of course, they do also worry about how they will cope afterwards, but I think for most, birth is the most scary part. It's not. It's really not.

2. How to have a good birth

Research beforehand, be that reading, antenatal classes, talking to people, watching TV births, etc., so you understand what is going to happen and know what your options and preferences are. Then, stay calm and in control.

3. Be strict with early-day visitors

If someone turns up uninvited, don't let them in. If you've already made certain decisions about how you're going to raise your baby, don't let things slip just cause you've got visitors. Ask for help, get people doing your shopping, cooking for you and cleaning the house. Tell them they can have a short cuddle before handing baby over, otherwise, 2 hours later, you'll be screaming inside to have your baby back in YOUR arms, willing it to be ready for a feed so the visitor says "I think (s)he needs mummy".

4. Don't buy everything you see

We still had things to buy when Felix turned up 6 weeks early. It was a blessing in disguise shopping wise, as we ended up ONLY buying what we needed. We could have wasted a lot of money on things that marketing people tell you a new baby needs.

5. Stick at the breastfeeding - for selfish reasons if nothing else

There is no better way to lose your baby belly and it's so much easier than carrying around bottles and sterilising stuff and boiling water and separate milk powder. But remember, it is tough to begin with. You've never done it before and the baby's never done it before either. Ask for help straight away if you're struggling as the longer you leave it the more difficult it will become. The best nipple cream in the world is breastmilk. After each feed, squeeze a little more out, rub in and leave to air dry. Easier to do this when no-one's around!!

6. Set good habits early

It's easier to take a dummy away from a 6 month old than a 1 year old. It's easier to take away a dummy from a 1 year old than an 18 month old. As hard as it seems to teach them to sleep on their own, it's easier to do it early. But... give yourself a break. You have to take the easy option sometimes. Don't punish yourself when you do, just get the good habits back on track as soon as you feel up to it.

7. Make friends with people with children the same age

One of the girls (who lives locally) is due to give birth about 4 months after me. So we'll both have babies at the same time. But 4 months in baby terms is massive. You need to have other mums to chat to who are going through the SAME things as you at the SAME time. For sympathy, understanding, advice and for comparing (in a positive way!).

8. Let your partner work things out for himself

As a mother, you tend to be the main carer for your newborn. You learn the best way to do things and when there's a small, helpless child screaming its lungs out, it's tooooo tempting to shove the father out of the way and do it yourself. But he has to learn the same way you have learned, by trial and error. Not just by being told by you what works and what doesn't. Sometimes, you have to walk away and leave them to figure it out.

9. Walk away

Talking about walking away, when the crying won't stop and you're losing your patience, put the child down somewhere safe, walk away and don't return until you are calm. Crying isn't going to harm the child. Your anger might.

10. Enjoy every minute of it

At the end of a tough day, try to smile about the positives. As cliche as it is, they do grow up quickly and you'll never get back the days of them being totally helpless and being cuddled as and when YOU choose! One day, they'll be off to school and then, leaving home. Eeek!

I really hope that my friends will come to me for help. I tried to be open with them when I did it all for the first time and not just pretend that everything was rosy all the time. Without having experienced it themselves, I suspect sometimes they just thought I was being a moaner, but it's really important to get it off your chest and not bottle it up. Being a parent is tough. But it's also the best thing in the world.

Approaching the Third Trimester

I'm 25 weeks pregnant and after a trip to hospital earlier this week am becoming increasingly aware of it.

On measuring my fundal height (a measurement from pubic bone to the top of your womb, supposed to be roughly 1cm per week) the midwife told me that I'm a little big for my dates and that means I will start to become uncomfortable soon. No sh*t sherlock.

The last couple of weeks have seen some amazingly large kicks, many either straight up into my ribs or straight down towards my vagina (hang on baby, you're not supposed to be heading down there just yet). Sitting forwards or upright makes me feel all squashed and not only am I finding sleeping more and more uncomfortable, with hip pain kicking in quickly but I now officially have to get up every night for a mid-sleep wee break.

I'm not looking forward to these increasing night-time wakings and wanderings as the temperature drops yet further (yes, the heating has already been on in this house). I can now look forward to not sleeping a whole night in one go until, oooh, about April next year I'd say. Wonderful.

On the more positive side, it's nice for hubby and other people to be able to feel the newbie squirming around and practising his martial arts on me. The afternoon of waiting in hospital gave us a nice bit of child-free time to talk baby names and plan a bit for the next few months. We also discussed if I should maybe be laying off the work a little more. Husband rightly pointed out that I do a full time job anyway (unpaid as raising a child is, it's just as much hard work and far more physically tiring than any office job) and there's no way first pregnancy that I'd have even considered going out to work in the evening after being in the office all day.

I think there is an element of me that needs the work though. It's a bit of time to myself and socialising with other adults without discussing children at all! I've decided to frequently remind myself not to try to take on too much and otherwise, just take it as it comes and see what happens.

Plus, I'm also going to get an 'emergency' hospital bag packed this weekend. Just in case. Experience tells me that an early baby doesn't need anything taking in to hospital so I can just pack an overnight/birth bag for myself and rest assured that I am prepared for now!

A Trip to the Hospital

Oh I forgot how much I love being in hospital. No, I'm not being sarcastic. I know. I'm a complete freak.

It's annoying that they're always running late and everything takes an age, but they do look after you. And sometimes, I think it's just nice that you've been forced to just STOP and sit down for a while. Only if someone else is taking care of the child, of course.

Well I had a little jaunt to the hospital today as after ringing the midwife (spoiler: disgusting pregnancy-related girly comment fast approaching) about some brown discharge I'd had (I DID warn you), she asked me to go in just to be on the safe side.

It actually started almost two weeks ago, but was very pale and not a lot. I made a call then and was advised not to worry but to get back in contact if it increased, was combined with pain or became a more fresh blood colour. This morning, we were out shopping and when I got home and dashed up to the loo, I was surprised to see a much darker stain in my underwear. Still not a large quantity, but much more "beginning of period" looking.

So I called, talked them through everything, including previous premature birth, and I was asked to go in, not to rush or panic, but to go in to be checked. Oh, and to take a bag in with me just in case.

No not take a handbag. That'd be an overnight/giving birth type bag thing. Eek!

I called hubby, managed to find someone who was free to babysit (Yay for school holidays and parents who are teachers!) and went off to pop some things in a bag. Now this did get me feeling a bit weird. Last time I calmly got my hospital bag ready and headed off to the delivery ward, I gave birth.

I'm only 25 weeks, I can't give birth. Oh god. Shush, it's fine, you're not going to give birth and there's not going to be anything wrong. It's perfectly normal discharge/light blood loss and you're just going as it's better to be safe.

We arrived (after struggling to find parking as it was 'visiting time' - grrr) and headed on up to the ward... "is this where we came?" I asked, "I don't remember this bit". We arrived at triage "oh yeah, I remember this bit, and that toilet, I got well acquainted with that toilet", and were appointed a room. I went off to the loo to provide a urine sample and pretty quickly had a midwife come and take my blood pressure too. All's fine.

A little wait and then another midwife came to have a feel "you're measuring a little large for your dates" - no surprise there then - and a listen to baby's heartbeat. All's fine. "We just have to wait for the doctor to come and do an internal examination, just to establish where the blood is coming from. He's in theatre at the moment so you might have a little wait."

Well, we arrived at the hospital at 3pm... at 5pm a lovely midwife asked if we'd like a drink, or maybe a piece of fruit. Or a sandwich - my eyes lit up. So I had me the same sandwich I had the night I gave birth to Felix and I yummed it down at an alarming 'new breastfeeding mother' speed. I like hospital food. I love it. Someone else makes it. And it's simple and traditional. Ahhhh.

It was 7pm by the time the doctor came to see me. He opened me up (yeah baby), then opened me up a bit further (ooooh) and then moved the speculum around a bit so he could have a good look (ok, that hurts a little). The midwife reminded me to breath!! He took a swab as well (well why not? I did skive my last Prem Prevention appointment as they were taking too long... errmm, am I contradicting myself now?) and explained how the lining of the cervix comes outside of the womb a little and is like a raw surface. It can be caused to bleed by all sorts of minor disturbances, intercourse (I should be so lucky), a bowel movement passing by (erm, ok), etc. The blood then pools somewhere in the vagina and when it comes out, is a brownish colour because it's a little older.

Fine. Exactly what I thought, nothing to worry about.

So my notes got written up and off we went to the car park where hubby had moved the car to. Only there was a fire engine blocking the exit and, ooh firemen trying to break into a car and, hang on, what's going on? Security wouldn't let us into the car park as a car had exploded a couple of times (under the bonnet, not like a terrorist thing) and was still smoking away.

So after 4 hours hanging round at the hospital just for reassurance, we had to cower under a tree in the rain for another 10 minutes (yeah, only 10, what am I moaning about?) waiting to be allowed to get to our car.

I just feel a bit bad for my dad who was babysitting really. It was all a bit of a shock for him I think and he was supposed to be working this evening. Ooops. But then, these things happen.

Boys, Boys, Boys

I'm going to keep this short as I don't want to appear too ungrateful but I can't blog about my pregnancy and not even mention my 2nd scan, can I?

So, it would appear (ok, it was rather obvious actually) that I'm having a second little boy.

I've been telling everyone that I don't really have a preference this time, but my reaction tells me I did. I wanted my first so much to be a girl but thought having two boys would be nice for them... but now the pressure is on for the third child to be a girl. I'm not sure I could go on to have a fourth.

At least I don't feel as upset by it as I did first time round (sorry Felix, I wouldn't change you for the world now). Just a bit surprised and a little bit disappointed.

As for the REAL purpose of the 20 week anomaly scan, everything is good and healthy. He has an above average sized tummy (that's from daddy's side of the family, I think you'll find), and a short leg (both of us are shorties) and very cute little feet.

I feel violated

I got probed today in places that a pregnant lady should not be probed (not until the baby's on its way out anyway).

When I was told I had been booked into the Prematurity Prevention Clinic, I was a little surprised and a little offended actually. Alright so no-one can ever say for sure why Felix was born 6 weeks premature, but it was bound to be the lack of space in there. I had a huge ovarian cyst in there and was showing 6 weeks ahead of my dates because of it. He just didn't have room to grow.

So I was offended that I needed to be told how to prevent another premature birth. I'd already been told I wasn't considered to be 'at risk'. But I'm not the kind of person to tell the medical profession that I know better, so I did as I was told and went along to my special 'class' this afternoon.

"Have you brought a urine sample?", errmmm, no. Why do I need a urine sample? No-one told me to bring a urine sample. Are we all going to look at our wee together in this class? Ewww.

So I went to the loo with a pot (and didn't realise there was no toilet roll until after I'd peed all over my hand. typical) and then sat in the waiting room. Well, I couldn't see anything that looked like a classroom, just lots of small consulting rooms. Hmmm, have I got something terribly wrong here?

I got called into a room by a nurse and finally had this whole Prem Prevention thing explained to me. They will basically be monitoring me to check for infections or something to help prevent a premature birth. Well, as I was a little shocked to be told that I was going to be swabbed at any moment, I felt the need to explain my belief about my previous premature birth. It didn't matter, the appointments are routinely made.

So she tested my urine (all clear) and took my blood pressure (just right) and then she left the room so that I could get undressed. I thought I was going to some boring class to be preached at about stuff that wasn't relevant to me. And there I was, getting my kit off.

Apparently I'll be going back for at least two more of these delightful internal examinations. I think it would have been really nice if someone had taken the trouble to explain it to me before I arrived.

Doctor, Doctor

We (well, I) made three visits to our doctor's surgery on three consecutive working days this week. Good job their waiting room is so nice.

Felix was a little under the weather last week so after a couple of vomits and four days with a temperature (it did vanish occasionally), we went to see the doc. He had a peek in Felix's ears and diagnosed an ear infection. Again. More antibiotics.

On Monday, we went for his 2 year old developmental review. Very exciting. "Do you have any concerns?", the health visitor asked. Well, I am NOT concerned, but I know that his speech is behind (way behind) so I explained that I am confident he communicates well (signing mainly) and that his language development is also fine, just that his verbal skills leave a little to be desired. I also made it clear that I was not concerned by this, I was just aware of it. He says approx 10-15 words and the average at this age is 50 words.

So she asked about his hearing, which I am also certain is fine, and about ear infections. Ah. Now we have it. Yes, he does seem to be prone to ear infections.

Well, apparently, regular ear infections, or even (gasp) glue ear, can mean that the child doesn't hear certain sounds clearly - which would explain why his C or K sound is more of a tongue click (think horse feet sound effects). We have therefore been referred for a hearing test.

On the whole, it was a lovely review of his progress. Some of the questions she asked made me feel very proud and like a good parent (how rarely do health visitors achieve this?) and she made a couple of good suggestions to solve our problem areas, such as teeth cleaning.

The next day, I had a midwife appointment. It was my birthday and I knew she was going to take blood (for the down's screening test) so I persuaded my mum to come with me to hold my hand. I am so relieved she did. Just talking about random things made the whole experience a lot more bearable and stopped the midwife from telling me all about my veins - ewww!

After the midwife had felt my tummy and 'oooh'ed at how large I am already (how rude), I asked if we would listen to the heart. I couldn't remember when this would happen and thought my mum would love the experience. Of course, now I know, this isn't normally recommended until 28 weeks (wow, that's late) but as I asked, she consented. And she found it straight away. Bless. My mum's face was a picture. Sometimes you forget what joy you bring your parents by producing a grandchild for them. Her reaction was the perfect reminder.

Stop the car I need a weewee

So I had this situation for a week or so where I couldn't wee - might as well jump right in and say it. If you can't take this directness, you certainly can't take what's going to follow. Look away now.

It seems, touch wood, to have disappeared again. I remember from my first pregnancy, that if I didn't go to the loo regularly and I let myself get desperate, I would have problems weeing at all. I could sit on the toilet, absolutely bursting and nothing would happen. Except a few tears streaming down my cheeks with the stress/discomfort of it all.

And from just before we went on holiday to the time of my scan (the EXACT time of my scan) this awful symptom (or should we call it a side-effect?) came back to taunt me in pregnancy number two.

Now imagine the scene. We are disembarking the ferry... quick wee and into the car. Sit in the car, sit in the car, sit in the car, ooh we're moving, depart the ferry. Lovely. Queue for passport control, wait a bit, wait a bit more, a little more, yay, we're through and off on our journey. It didn't take too long actually (much faster than UK passport control), but it did add to the planned two hour journey time.

The SatNav took us on a weird windy route, away from all major French roads. So no service stations with toilets. There were villages where we could have stopped, if we were feeling brave, but we were not. We had a sleeping toddler and we did NOT wish him to wake up, so on we went as I bravely announced "I'll be fine, I can hold it a little longer."

I was lying. I needed to go. Now. So I got out a nappy.

I can't quite believe that I am going to relay this story. Deep breath.

So, I managed to wriggle the nappy inside my pants, trousers and seatbelt - no mean feat. I made sure the stretchy bits were spread wide and kept my hand around my crotch so that the nappy stayed in place and there was no risk of leakage. I sat as upright as possible and let my urge to wee translate into a bodily function. Nothing.

I thought this was my clever body telling me that weeing with your clothes on, whilst sitting in a moving car was not really the 'done thing'. I felt a little bit proud of myself.

Nonetheless, I altered my position and tried again. Nothing. By this time we were approaching a village. A few people may have walked by so I tried to disguise the situation as best I could and waited for the next opportune area of countryside.

Here we go... countryside, no-one around, "just let go body, just let go". Nothing. Husband was beginning to find it funny by now, well, ok, he found it funny to begin with and I swore him to absolute secrecy - Hi honey, please don't tell your family still, that'd be weird. He did offer some kind help and encouragement by making running water type sounds, pssssssss, for example. Yep, he tried to help. Nothing.

He stopped finding it funny when I made a really serious effort after another village and ended up in tears. Not upset tears, just the falling out of your eyes kind that you can't help when something hurts so much. It wasn't like actual pain either (in case you're wondering if I had some kind of infection - trust me, it wasn't the same), just grrrrr, 'wee, damn you' tears!

Eventually, and mainly because hubby was lost, we stopped in a layby. I undid my seatbelt turned around and knelt on the seat (many people choose this position for giving birth, I believe) and concentrated so hard, that a teeny tiny little wee trickled out and into the nappy. Hubby asked if I was 'doing it', "shut up", I responded with ferocious concentration. A little more wee. Toddler woke up and looked straight at me, husband congratulated him on witnessing this epic moment in his mother's life. A little bit more wee. Then I got nervous about how much I was doing and if the nappy could take it so I stopped. I felt a little relief but still needed the toilet. Thankfully this was enough to see me to our arrival at our holiday resort (let's not name it here as I really don't think they'd enjoy the publicity).

Husband was dispatched from the car with a not very full nappy to dispose of in the roadside bin. And on with the journey.

The weeing situation seemed to get worse throughout the holiday, in that, I wouldn't even need to get 'desperate' to find I would sit on the loo and have nothing come out (apart from a few tears). I was making plans to ask the sonographer at my first scan to check the positioning of my bladder and urethra as I thought it must be trapped somewhere by the baby.

The journey back home in the UK was worse. Husband wisely announced "there'll be services on the M25, we'll stop there". Incorrect husband. There are no services on that section of the M25 and it would appear that the junction to the M1 is also closed right now with major queues backing up. Out came the nappy once again. Pointlessly as nothing happened. Thank christ for Toddington Services.

I continued to have problems peeing that weekend and when we went for our scan on the Monday where I had to have a full bladder (?!?!?!?!? do they not REALISE how difficult it is to keep your bladder full for half an hour when you're pregnant?!?), the NHS were typically running late (I should point out right now that I LOVE the NHS and am a massive fan of hospital food, they're just late. always. fact.). The poor sonographer noticed that I 'danced' into the room and asked if I needed to go. He had a quick look at the baby, reported that my bladder was too full and I should go and empty it. I apologised that I might be 'a while', left... and Lo!, I sat down on the loo and the floodgates literally opened. I think I may have had another little cry, of relief this time.

And it seems to have been fixed ever since. So... have a good laugh, confess if you've ever weed in a nappy yourself and sympathise with me if you had problems weeing during pregnancy too. Please nicely, as I'm still a little shocked that I am sharing such an embarrassing encounter with the entire WWW. Eeeek!

Love at First Sight

Yesterday, my pregnancy finally became real. Properly real. It's not just cakes, there is a baby in there making me look so rounded.

My toddler obviously knew we had an important appointment as he woke up precisely on time to be popped into the car and taken off to hospital for my first scan. I had a last minute toilet visit before we left knowing full well that a) they would be running late and b) my bladder would fill up again in no time. And then we sat in the waiting room, reading stories and debating if I should risk another loo visit as I was bursting. Husband persuaded me not to go and finally, only half an hour late, I was called in.

My bladder was too full, the baby was being squashed, so I was sent to empty it. Phew! Then the sonographer happily scanned away knowing he could apply pressure without causing an accident. There on the screen, was a picture of my new little baby... it always amazes me that this is the first time that anyone in the medial profession actually checks you are pregnant. You could get a very long way before you were either caught out for being a bit of a weirdo liar, or discovered that you just can't read a pregnancy test right!

Despite the title of this post, I haven't expressed any particular feeling for that little alien-like black and white figure on the screen, have I? I think I'm still a bit freaked out by the whole situation really. And possibly WAY more scared this time. I guess with pregnancy number 1 I was blissfully ignorant. Like most new mums, I worried about the pain of giving birth mostly and didn't appreciate that birth is 'kinda easy' in comparison to what comes next. Years of testing your patience.

But there it is. A little baby inside me. Now I know because I have seen it. Due December 8th 2010.

Ooh and I also asked the sonographer to have a good look at my ovary, for I have only one, and it apparently looked all lovely and healthy. So there's still chance for another one in the future. If I'm completely crazy and haven't collapsed from total exhaustion before then.

Sharing the News

Finally, most people have been told about the little baby in my tummy. I've had a few stunned faces (my preferred reaction) and many immediate 'congratulations'. A few remarked that they didn't know we were trying - well we weren't, so you wouldn't have known - and one complete non-reaction. Poor bugger doesn't do emotion.

There were a couple of people I struggled to tell, one good friend and one friend of a friend who I knew was going to find out at the party on Saturday. Both have been trying, unsuccessfully for over a year. The latter made me feel a little uncomfortable too as she wanted to know lots of details. I just wanted to tell her (before she heard from someone else) and run away.

Really loved telling one of my mummy friends as she revealed at a 2nd birthday party that she is expecting. I managed to snatch a quiet moment with her to whisper the words "me too". Her number 1 is only a week younger than my number 1 child and they were both premature. So with approx 3 weeks between us on this pregnancy, the race is on to see who actually gets to the birth first!

I still have a few friends to tell and work-related announcements are going to be delayed until post 12-weeks/post first scan. It feels very odd to be congratulated when it still doesn't feel real. Roll on that little picture from the sonographer.

Real morning sickness

So, now I know what it's all about. And I am SO glad I didn't experience it last time and am not having too much of it this time round either.

Last night, at 2am, I woke up feeling terrible. I thought maybe it was just my full bladder making me feel so sick, so I dealt with that and sensibly collected myself a 'sick bucket' whilst I was up. But for the next hour or so, I lay in bed focussing on my breathing and rubbing my painful stomach. I couldn't help but think to myself "hmm, 9 weeks... this could go on for the next 7 days until I reach the peak of morning sickness at 10 weeks." What an awful thought. It gave me a new sympathy for friends who have been in and out of hospital with such bad sickness and the subsequent dehydration it causes.

Of course, this sickness was entirely to be blamed on pregnancy and not at all on the number of haribo I ate at my evening meeting.

The Tell-Tale Signs

When I was trying for my first child, I got a bit obsessed... after all, I had finally started trying to fulfil my life's ambition of becoming a mother. Well, each month I 'felt different' and thought I had this symptom and that symptom and might be pregnant. And each month I felt utterly disappointed as I took the test and it was negative.

Don't feel sorry for me, it only took 5 months, I know I have nothing to complain about there.

But I did spend a lot of time researching pregnancy symptoms on the internet. Some seemed a little misleading as they were the same symptoms I experience every month when a period is pending, but some were really helpful and I did kind of know when I was being a little to wishful.

Last week, however, before I did the test (and as much of a shock as it was to actually SEE the fact there in front of me), I did know I was pregnant. I just knew. I guess I recognised feelings from the first time. So here's my top list of symptoms, which may hopefully help others in the future.

1. My breasts were noticeably larger. Now I know many people get this every month, but I haven't tended to recently (maybe a bi-product of having breast-fed number 1 child? Still worth it though).

2. And my nipples were really rather sensitive (have I gone to far? Was using the N word 'crossing the line'? If I blog you through my birth, expect MUCH MUCH worse). The spray from the shower was where I particularly noticed it and I had to angle myself just right to avoid it. Ouch.

3. My period was late. Well d'uh. Obviously. I normally have a pretty regular 4-weekly cycle, but the month before, it had been 6 weeks. So I waited 6 weeks and one day before doing the test. But like I said, in my gut, I already knew.

4. I kept weeing. Now, I drink a lot of water on an average day and therefore go to the loo a lot. But this was excessive even for me. I just constantly needed a wee.

5. And I was oh so tired. I did have a couple of late nights which I talked myself into believing might be the cause. But it would just hit me in the middle of the day. I didn't have the energy to get on and do things (also not particularly unusual for me) but knew I felt way more tired than usual.

6. Don't forget, morning sickness doesn't only happen in the morning. The day I did my test, I spent the afternoon on the computer working. And I felt slightly sick ALL afternoon. I didn't really get morning sickness first time round and hope that what I've had so far is going to be it. No more. But there was definitely no good explanation for feeling a bit delicate in the stomach, other than impending motherhood.

7. There were two mornings where I woke up with a nasty pain in one of my hips. I sleep on my side normally and I definitely recognised this pain from pregnancy number 1. If I hadn't experience it before, I think it would have passed me by. But it's the only time I've ever had a problem sleeping on my side (and of course in the later stages, you shouldn't sleep on your back as it can cut off baby's blood supply, so you have to put up with it) and it was undoubtedly the same pain. I guess the relaxin hormone has got to work already then!

I don't remember where I did my research first time round, but last week I had a little peek at the Top 10 Signs of Pregnancy article on www.babycentre.co.uk - an invaluable tool for all expectant parents and parents of young children. I trust this website like no other.

I'm off now to contemplate a little longer how I'm going to tell my mum I'm pregnant. I tried to tell her on the phone last night, but the words just didn't come out!