Holiday

Jambeans started her holiday last Thursday evening by doing a poo in the bath. I was in it with her at the time and got out at a speed worthy of an Olympic Gold. What I was supposed to have done next was stay super calm and not show Jambeans that what she had done was in any way wrong or distressing. What I actually did was nakedly flap, squawk and hyperventilate for 20 minutes while screaming incoherently at the boyfried (who did stay calm and sort everything out). Jambeans was quite unhappy and (bf had fished her out of the bath by now) finished her poo amid screams of distress on the bathroom mat.

My score for that particular test in perfect parenting- FAIL.
Ho hum.

Set off on Friday to the West Country for the week. Got lots of sleep, visited the rellies, got fed, got (even) fat(ter), enjoyed the free babysitting, introduced Jambeans to the outlaws' dogs again, saw friends, went to 3 zoos and an aquarium, which was cool but admittedly was getting bored of them by the last one (which wasn't planned - we're not that zoo bonkers - it's just it was the nearest pit stop on the way home when Jambeans had enough of being cooped up in the car and started screaming).

Jambeans really enjoyed herself and smiled the whole way through. I totally fell in love with her all over again. She says 'dada' discriminately now. Also, on the last day, when we stopped off at mum's on the way home she rewarded us by taking 3 whole steps all by herself. Bf has been beaming with pride and calling her 'toddler' all day today (the usual 'darling princess bubfried' plus all the other silly nicknames still very much there too - it's gonna be a long time before they get binned)

She introduced us to 'holiday rules' sleeping, which basically means us putting her down at 7, her screaming until we give in and take her downstairs, then NOT sleeping until we drag her cute but sorry ass upstairs again at 9.30 then only falling asleep between the two of us on the not-really-big-enough-for-3-even-if-one-of-us-is-only-a-bub double bed and only then allowing us to transfer her to the travel cot.

We're paying for it now as she has spent the last half hour screaming and trying to climb out of her cot. Bf and I had a momentary 'dunno what to do' moment till images of Supernanny flashed into my head, where distraught mothers drag hissy-fitting toddlers back into bed for hours on end with no eye-contact, no cuddles, no talking etc. so have tried that and it seems to have worked.

"Morning" sickness has arrived

nausea arrived in earnest last wednesday. feel guilty about being immobilised and about leaving as much to others as possible. mainly because the sickness is nowhere as bad as last time. mainly nausea. less vomiting. and when i do vomit, mainly retching and bile (oh joy) so at least i'm digesting food.

but it still makes me feel awful.

and more tired than ever.

and like i just want to sit very very very still.

Lost a shoe at the zoo

How did that happen?

OK, not strictly a ditzy Cinderella story, as it wasn't a shoe I was actually wearing - the weather threatened both thunderstorms and a heatwave so I wore my trainers and put my beloved, funky green flats with the skull & crossbone pattern in the basket of Jazzie's pram. Come shoe changing time there's only one shoe in the basket. The other must have fallen out. How gutting is that?

So you can probably tell we went back to London zoo. Animal du jour was a Feather-tailed Glider - a wee little mouse that only comes out at night with a tail surrounded by feathered skin so it's flat and good for gliding from one branch to another. Seriously cool.
And the squirrel monkeys were on great form.
And jambeans was on great form.
And boyfried is on great form and being extra specially considerate and lovely at the moment.
And I've knackered my back again ;-(
But it's mainly good.
But it's school tomorrow :-(

More buns / still feeling low

Looked in the book last night under the 'signs of miscarriage' section and it clearly said that "simply not feeling pregnant" was not a sign that anything was remotely wrong, so felt greatly sobered (as well as faintly embarrassed I succumbed to such niaiserie in the first place).

Feeling pregnant is back on the agenda today anyway, which helps the mental state, but meant I felt like total crap all day with a bit of completely knackered poo thrown in for good measure.

Leon called today to say that Mary was 12 weeks pregnant, yaaaaaaaay, which means for LEH Christmas (which is this weekend, obviously) four of the six of us girls will be sporting buns - me (due Feb 25th), Mary (due Jan 22nd), Hannah (due Dec 22nd) and Jade (due October sometime)

But I'm the only one who can't tell anyone :-( boo hoo boo hoo boo hoo

To EPU or not to EPU

Paranoia has begun to set in.
(Or is it me just being extremely in tune with my body?)

After Monday's burst of pregnancy symptoms, today, I feel nothing.
Nada.
Zip.

I just don't feel pregnant today.

Didn't yesterday either, when my appetite returned big time. And the nausea went. And I felt quite alert and sprightly.

And it feels the same today. Barring, of course, the sleep-deprived variety of nausea and feeling totally knackered because of yet another random sleepless night, but that feels very different to the pregnancy variety.

And then I couldn't help but remind myself that when I had a miscarriage just over two years ago it presented at 11 weeks but they said it probably occurred around 6 weeks, and today I am 7 + 1 so it got me thinking... But then it's silly and doesn't mean anything and speculating about bad things happening doesn't help anyone.

So now I am sort of worried. But not in a panicky way. Just in a vague back of mind entertaining of the idea this might not have a happy ending and wondering if we should in fact go to the EPU?

Was it the smoked salmon?

Bf was on call last night, didn't get in till midnight (busy saving lives like a hero. sigh). I was also shattered from way way way too much work stress. Perfect recipe for coma sleep.

So why oh why oh why did we both wake up at 01.37 this morning and not get back to sleep?

Was it because we had gone to bed at 9pm? Why didn't remaking the bed work? Or the hot chocolate? Or getting up to watch telly to tire us out? (8 out of 10 cats - perhaps too funny? Should have gone for a war documentary) Or reading our books? Or listening to the iPod?
Why didn't they work? Or was it the smoked salmon we had for dinner? (And for that matter, why isn't Jambeans sleeping now?)

So, another day of pushing through glazed eyes caffeine high manic sweats screen flicker semi consciousness at work followed by tube nausea once i stopped. oh joy. my life is such joy right now.

spirited little chicken

jambeans was horribly ill on saturday night. she was completely burning up with fever. we had to wake her up, strip her down, syringe calpol into her mouth and then dump her into a cool bath. she just screamed in outrageous protest all the way through, which was totally justifiable because there is no greater insult than having your beauty sleep (albeit feverish and semi-conscious) disturbed by bigger, stronger people with their own agenda.

she woke up a few more times during the night, obviously cos she was ill but a bit of me also likes to think it was renewed indignation at our brusque treatment of her earlier on. boyfried did the florence nightingale thang at and mopped her brow with a damp flannel and her fever broke. must be his oversized healing hands...

she's over the worst of it now but her breathing is really short at night time and she's got that horrible raspy, chesty cough that has come back frequently ever since she had adenovirus. with no basis for it, other than parental anxiety, i am now worried about her being asthmatic when older.

adversity aside, she has proven herself to be a spirited little chicken, and even though still a bit poorly she's on adorable form. i really think we got a bit closer when bf was away and she's really started to initiate physical contact with me - she lays her head on my chest, and crawls over to me like a puppy with a big sloppy grin on her face for big big cuddles and i dunno if i've said it before but it's just brilliant being a mum.

6 weeks 6 days in - feeling worse each day

tinny taste in mouth. felt first proper wave of nausea this morning - but no actual vomiting thank god. crippling fatigue still omnipresent. feel super super short-fused and angry all the time and have resorted to taking it out on all the rude and uninformed cold callers at work, particularly those with sub-human IQ levels.

told mum yesterday. she was v. excited. it was at seema's birthday party so didn't have more than a minute to ourselves to talk about it but how i wish i wish i wish she asked me how i was feeling bc quite honestly am desperate for a sympathetic ear.

why hasn't my superhero sense of smell returned? that was quite fun. but then, it is lavender season (possibly the most nauseating smell in the world) so maybe i should be careful what i wish for.

jasmine is standing

jasmine is determined to stand. she stood for the first time yesterday, in the bath, while i hyperventilated with excitement. and she's managed about 3 or 4 wobbly seconds of 100% hands-free standing a few times today as well.

wot a clever bub.

too tired and hormonal to feel happy

bf has gone to west country for his grandma's funeral.

will miss him muchly but he could really do with a break. AND i get to watch gray's anatomy properly for once (rather than in 5 minutes bursts when i can squeeze it in over the weekend).

i've felt very isolated for the last couple of days. the bf is acting like i'm not preggers at all - just getting on with things, in that uber-pragmatic way of his. and he's probably also just waiting till after the results of the first scan when we can feel more confident we're in the clear. we've also both spent the last couple of days wrapped up in our own private worlds, lots of stress at work for both of us, and it's been affecting us both. so we're both pre-occupied. and we're both tired. so they're all good reasons.

but i just can't stop thinking about how i'm pregnant again. and i want to share it all with him. and feel excited together. and nervous together. and i want him to know how i feel physically. and i want to feel close to him. and i want us to exchange those special looks that say 'we've got a happy secret.' and i want him to reach over and pat my tummy like he did last time.

but there's been none of that. just distance. and isolation. and irrepressible amounts of rage (hormone induced). and body shattering fatigue.

pregnancy sucks.

bad beginning to a bad evening

i'm so desperately tired. said it before. will say it again.

also feel like i'm barely keeping things together. don't remember feeling this knackered first time around, but maybe it's because having a lie in or taking it easy were options then.

had a shocking day yesterday. felt very tearful and depressed. work was extremely stressful - a lethal combination of exhaustion from my sleepless night and non-stop pressure trying to clear the decks before my working week was out. found myself feeling both extremely angry and unable to cope when anything held me up for so much as a few seconds. the tears started leaking out at one point. managed to stuff them back in, but only just. thankfully no one was around to see.

had a slight reprieve - bf called to say he would pick jambeans up. so i got to sweat it out at work for an extra hour. but the dizziness and nausea caused by sleepless night hit the minute i stopped, and hit baaaad. journey home was a nightmare.

got home. jambeans started screaming blue murder moment she saw me. purple face, constant tears, high decibel type shrieking. something obviously very wrong but god knows if we could work it out. she was inconsolable. finally, i settled on teething as the cause. kept looking to boyfried for back up because i wasn't 100% sure. he was adamant it wasn't pain for loads of good, logical reasons i can't remember. i got frustrated cos my gut was saying 'teething' over and over. but was most pissed off with myself for not trusting my gut. was hanging on by a thread at this stage. succumbed to deep, inner rage.

boyfried had been dealing with screaming babies all day and was also super stressed out. moreso than me. acopeia hit him first so mid shriek he said he couldn't deal with it anymore, put jambeans on the floor and walked away. never seen him do anything like that before. never seen him so much as a break a sweat before. freaked me out. no, later, it freaked me out. at that point - just felt resentful that he got a time out.

didn't go for long. returned to administer calpol. within minutes the bub was bubbling again. all smiles.

just felt completely drained.

bolt awake since 3am

couldn't sleep last night.
woke at 3,
lay awake,
eyes wide open,
heart beating fast,
totally wired.

i'm worried about my future.

i suppose i ought to write i'm worried about the future, and that's why i can't sleep. worried about things like global warming and bomb threats and wanting to protect my children.

but it's not true. they're not enough for me to lose sleep about.

it's all about ME.

my future.

work.
family.
money.
that stuff.

and now i am stiff.
and wired.
and tired.

and stressed.

about my future.

aaaaaaarrrggghhhhhh.

Hail in July, back to the Whit

weather's gone bonkers. heavy rain. thunderstorms. lightning. we had a hailstorm earlier on. already been soaked 3 times in 2 days.

lots of floods up north. people's houses entirely ruined by water damage. no doubt they'd be none too impressed with my soft southern moaning at a bit of rain.

jambeans went back to the Whit yesterday for another developmental check up. everything went fine apart from my usual inner RAAAAAAAAGE at there only being 5 metered parking spaces within a 100mile radius of a busy london hospital, which meant i had to drive around in circles for 20 minutes, and finally found somewhere to park, but it was miles away, on another planet i think, then got a thorough soaking as i ran across galaxies, with the pram, in the rain, to get to the hospital on time. and then more RAAAAAAAAGE at remembering how crap hospitals are, and full of scummy chavvy people with no manners who push into the lift and can't wait for anyone else to get in too, even if the other people were in front of them, or have a pram - that seems to mean extra shoving. and extra special RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGE reserved for all who work in hospitals, especially the admin staff who, even though they sit at that desk all afternoon, can't tell me whether the clinic is running late, or how many people are ahead of me, or how long i might have to wait, even if you ask really nicely because you are on a meter and have a hungry baby who wants feeding so you genuinely do need to know.

the appointment was for 3.20pm. we got seen at 4.30pm. not too bad by their standards.

(had a huge grumpy 'ole woman rant about it in the pm but then boyfie told me that all the hospitals in london cut admin staff first when they're trying to save money, so they are some of the lowest paid and most demotivated people you can find. feeling a wee bit guilty...)

Tooth number 7 definitely poking through

Signs of Personality

The bub has been on tremendous good form recently. Her personality is really coming through. Previously people have said 'she's got such personality', but I always dismissed that as meaningless commentary. I mean, she was a baby and did the baby stuff that all babies do. That's no sign of individuality.

But now I get it, and maybe now is the time Jambeans is capable of showing that she's developing into a little person in her own right, or maybe now I'm seeing for the first time what others could see.

So, she's a cheeky, fun-loving, demanding diva-like, playful but oh-so spilgy type toddler. And that's a very distinct personality from other toddlers her age like Ben, who is loving and chilled, or Zayne, who is full'o'beans and relentlessly curious.

And hopefully our little personality has tooth number 7 poking through, otherwise it would be a bit embarrasing 'cos we've been chalking up any odd behaviour to teething for what seems like months now. As an explanation it's beginning to look a bit flimsy, like we don't really know what we're doing. Which obviously isn't true at all.

Fear of fatigue

Sunday 1st July

Think I overdid it today - was just desperate to regain order in the house after builders had turned it upside down last week, so got up early to shift boxes and furniture before cleaner arrived. Also have been guilty of hoovering which is a bit bloody stoopid, given how my back is so messed up and what happened last time I hoovered.

Am very worried about feeling tired all the time. It's OK right now but hope it doesn't get worse as that would be an absolute nightmare.

I hate this bit of pregnancy. Actually I hate all bits of pregnancy, but right now I am reserving my hate-energy for this bit. Time is moving treacle slow right now. I so desperately want to be past the 12-week marker so I can tell people, and so the risk of something going wrong is less. And by that time it will be too far away from 6 or 7 months for me to start panicking about whether baby will be premature. And fingers crossed I won’t be sick.

First GP visit

Went to GP yesterday to start the whole pregnancy process again. Have moments where it feels very real – but generally it hasn’t quite sunk in yet. Spoke to bf about it today – both confessed to feeling rather scared. But oddly not about miscarriage risk, or prematurity, or a repeat of the nightmare that is pregnancy in general. Mainly about how on earth we’re gonna cope with one diva of a toddler and a baby. Good thing is that both of us are talking like we’re assuming that pregnancy will be successful. In many ways we can’t help but think like that. No matter how hard you tell yourself to not to count your chickens, the thought is nevertheless always there that we’re gonna have another bub in (we hope no sooner than) 9 months’ time.

Actually, I’m 5 weeks and 5 days gone, so I guess its 8 months’ time really.

Have decided not to book into EPU (early pregnancy unit) but to wait until 12 week scan. Even if we have a scan early and there is no heartbeat, what we gonna do about it anyway? So might as well wait for nature to take its course. Hoping desperately it’s not twins – first pregnancy was twins and even though there’s no hard evidence we’re pretty sure that was why we miscarried. Twins also have a much higher incidence of premature birth. So please please, please just one, healthy (hopefully male, though female would be jolly exciting too) pregnancy sack in there.

Feeling fine in general – only symptoms so far are some horrendous, teenage-style spots that I am enjoying squeezing, and feeling quite tired. Have been feeling cream crackered quite a lot in last 3 weeks, but previously put it down to Jambeans sleeping poorly and me being crazy busy at work and just battled through. It’s much harder to fight now I know it’s due to pregnancy, but having a wee toddler means you have no choice.

Have been struggling to remember how soon after discovering I was pregnant the nausea came last time. Have convinced myself it came around 6 weeks – where I will be in 2 days’ time. Am taking it as a good sign and feeling optimistic that sickness will be less this time around. If there is a pregnancy goddess please note that I really have done my time. Please, please, please, please, please, please, please don’t let me suffer from morning sickness like I did last time.

The house is mine

Saturday 30^th June

Hurrah – builders have left, shiny new double glazing is in. Amazing how quickly the money is spent compared to how long it takes to save it all up.

Still experiencing feint sentiment that I have been lazy and tight by not doing wood, and have contributed to the general uglification of Britain. But mainly am jolly pleased as new windows are shiny and white and much nicer than crappy aluminium numbers we replaced.

Only downer is that workmen have managed to destroy our internet connection and phone line, so am having to write blog entries into Word and copy/paste when everything's set up again. The Bf is very impatient and frustrated with the whole affair, and is doing his usual “it’s all completely fucked” melodrama that ensues whenever anything mechanical/ technical/ technological breaks down. Not helped by on-call-hudgie-budgieness either.