Apr 7 2014

39 Weeks: The Secret Fourth Trimester

Posted on April 7, 2014 by admin

I made a promise to myself last night that I’d keep this post as light-hearted as possible. I suspect anyone reading this will have started wanting to throttle me a few months ago. That, or you’ve stopped believing I’m even pregnant! It feels like (and reads like) I’ve been pregnant for a year now and I’m constantly having to contain my jealousy when I see all my friends sharing ‘welcome to the world baby’ statuses on Facebook. I swear some of these people announced their pregnancies after me…

I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve tweeted about my labour when in reality I don’t even know what I should be looking out for in the first place. At 39 weeks I can confirm I’m getting regular pressure on my bladder and my pelvic floor, and plenty of tightenings higher up in my abdomen - but are these really something to be getting excited about? I don’t know. I didn’t experience one contraction with Dexter so I have nothing to compare them against.

The general consensus seem to be that if you are unsure whether you are in labour, you probably aren’t. This is the rule of thumb filtered down to thousands of mums-to-be by midwives everywhere (and irritatingly validated by mums-in-the-know in the natural labour brigade). It sounds about right on the face of it, but it doesn’t stop me wanting to jab my own thumbs somewhere unpleasant in their smug faces. After-all, midwives are the gatekeepers of early labour… the ones who have access to the drugs that can induce us… the ones who no doubt have million tricks they could share that will guarantee our spot in the delivery room this evening, but won’t give them up.

Bed Rest 39 Weeks 39 Weeks: The Secret Fourth Trimester

The truth is, I’ve had a really shitty time of it these past few weeks. There was some confusion as to whether my waters had gone with two separate consultants proffering different opinions. Both times (once in week 37, and another in 38) I felt the equivalent of a champagne glass full of fluid leave my body involuntarily - there had been no pressure on bladder immediately before. This got my hopes up as I began to think they’d have to hurry-up the labour or intervene due to risk of infection… but nope.

The one thing both consultants agreed upon on was that Operation #GetBabyOut would have to stop immediately. I’d weakened my pelvic floor muscles by exercising too excessively (and aggressively) and they would need time to recover before D Day.

I’ve had mixed success with this challenge. Lazing around on bed rest just doesn’t seem to compute with me. Like most mums to be I have some serious nesting to be getting on with, and anything that brings me closer to that inevitable pop of my waters beats the hell out of laying in bed watching Tipping Point. As my consultants have made it crystal clear they won’t induce me due to the problems I had with Dexter’s birth, I often find myself staring at the clock ever-conscious that the longer this goes on, the more likely I am to meet my baby on an operating table.

It was during this time that @MamaBabyBliss sent me an article that sums up perfectly how I’m feeling at the moment. It’s the musings of US midwife Jana Studelska about labour anxiety and the later stages of pregnancy. You can read the full article here but I’ve ~~nicked~~ quoted the best bits here if you’re simply not up to anymore pregnancy reading at the moment:

It’s time to hurry up and wait. Not a comfortable place to be, but wholly necessary…. I tell these beautiful, round, swollen, weepy women to go with it and be okay there. Feel it, think it, don’t push it away.

What we don’t have is reverence or relevance—or even a working understanding of the vulnerability and openness a woman experiences at this time. Our language and culture fails us. This surely explains why many women find this time so complicated and tricky. But whether we recognize it or not, these last days of pregnancy are a distinct biologic and psychological event, essential to the birth of a mother.

Okay it’s a bit Kumbaya for my usual self, but it seems to resonate with the pregnant me. These last few weeks, days, hours are the ultimate test for some pregnant women. It’s entirely possible to lose your mind to grief, frustration, fear and excitement. These emotional responses won’t let up, not even for a second, not even in your sleep. Not every woman will go to this place (I didn’t with Dexter) but I’ve been sat here for a few weeks now. It feels like purgatory. I will admit though that this article made me feel better. I was able to imagine this time as a sort of secret fourth trimester; a special club reserved for the true warriors of motherhood.

39 weeks 39 Weeks: The Secret Fourth Trimester

So I’ve decided not to blog anymore about this pregnancy now. Don’t worry, I haven’t gone all ‘inner peace’ or ‘tie-dye knickers’ on you all, I just have nothing left of any value to say about it. It sucks, I hate it, I don’t think I’ll ever do it again. I’ll see you all on the other side - whether I find a footbridge, jump in a canoe, or take my chances swimming across - I’ll tell you how I did it when I get there and not as I’m doing it.

This one goes out to my fellow bump buddies - particularly those who find themselves rubbing their swollen tummies a little too forcibly as they’re watching One Born Every Minute, or adding little unnecessary bounces to their step as they walk up the stairs. I FEEL YOUR PAIN!

Mar 19 2014

35 Weeks Pregnant

Posted on March 19, 2014 by admin

So I’ve kissed goodbye to 35 weeks and now the countdown can really begin. Just one more week and I’ll be officially considered ‘full term’. I’ve done all my homework and collated a bunch of natural labour inducers (from the whacky to the scientific) and plan to pack them all in over the next few weeks. My diet will consist of raspberry tea, curry and pineapple (I expect I’ll get some strange looks in Tesco when stocking my trolley with this lot) and my evenings will spent frantically trying to fit in hour slots of Wii, bouncing on gym balls, breast pumping, and sex.

Too much information? Trust me they’ll be nothing glamorous about it! week 35 35 Weeks Pregnant

In other news, I had my final midwife appointment last week. I had been really looking forward to sharing the news that Mini Madam had nosedived but unfortunately my midwife was at a conference. To my frustration, the stand-in was the very midwife we moved GP surgeries to avoid with this baby. Luckily, I didn’t have any real concerns to raise so could just about tolerate her lack of English, half-arsed conversation, and generally scattiness. We just have one more consultant appointment and scan left to go then we’re home free. No more weeing in pots or being poked and prodded until D Day.

Unfortunately, most of the exciting symptoms I’ve experienced over the last few weeks have dried up now. I’m still getting random tightenings and I can feel her exerting pressure on my pelvic bone whenever I’m upright, but the actual contractions have stopped. All this downward momentum has led to even more frequent trips to the loo which is beginning to get on my wick. I seem to be up every single night at 2.29am for a quick pit-stop so the Mystic Meg in me is wagging her finger furiously.

In truth, I’d be hugely relieved if this turns out to be middle of the night dash to the hospital as the drama will give me less time to tot up all my little niggles with the NHS. If I’m stuck on a hospital bed all day you can bet both Craig and I will be swapping complaints under our breaths and generally making a nuisance of ourselves. I’m actually a fairly placid person but I tend to lose all power of diplomacy when I’m feeling nervous or frustrated.

The biggest concern right now is that I’ve become a real basket case. I spend most of day crying, slamming doors and generally ranting. I’d make a great a candidate for Gogglebox but I won’t be winning any Parent of the Year awards anytime soon. I think these last few weeks are definitely going to test my metal as I’m now really frustrated, tired, and fed up. I struggle to pick up Dexter so he’s bored to death and acting up as much as I am. I tried to do some pregnancy yoga yesterday, but let’s just say it doesn’t have the desired effect when you’re being pelted with wooden puzzle pieces when your eyes are closed.

Right that’s it. Let’s get week 36 out of the way and I’ll start blogging about my ‘experiments’ to try to tempt her out. Over and out.

Feb 19 2014

31 Weeks Pregnant

Posted on February 19, 2014 by admin

… And I’ve had enough. In fact, I’m counting down the days until I can serve Mini Madam with an eviction notice without being seen to be willing on prematurity. The thought of another 9 weeks (2+ months!) of swollen hips, uncontrollable moodiness, and cries of “Ooompf” when I accidentally stomach crunch my little girl, seems like nothing short of punishment.

Dex 31 Weeks Pregnant

It’s taking sooo long, even Dexter needed reminding.

Now all my final appointments are booked, there’s nothing to do but wait. In a few short weeks, we’ll discover how this birth plan is going to play out and whether April will see #Labour tweets and unsightly pictures of me flailing around on a birthing ball from inside the Royal Berks Hospital.

My once pert little bump is now a sagging lump like an old sofa cushion riding low on my pelvis, and I’m now kicking myself that I didn’t undergo hypnotherapy to kick my cherry bakewell habit in the first trimester. This has bought on a relatively new phenomena for me - stretchmarks. In fact my belly now looks like the glaze on a loaf of tiger bread. No amount of smothering myself in Bio Oil seems to shift them and I’m slowly facing up to the fact that my bikini days are now definitely over.

SPD and sciatica continue to plague me at each at every waking moment. I’m getting by on around 4 hours sleep at night and as many naps as Dexter will allow. I’m definitely struggling to switch off as the pressure to get our 52 name shortlist down to 10 heats up. This insomnia is real problem and I’m positively hideous to be around. I’ve caught Craig camping out in the kitchen a few times and his eyes will widen in fear if I go within 3 metres of him.

When I’m not being as evil and cynical as Katie Hopkins, I’m usually crying at something ridiculous on the television. Coverage of the floods on the news, the sheer offensiveness of Mister Maker’s theme tune, or the GB curling team at the Sochi Winter Olympics… yes curling. What has my life come to?

31 weeks 31 Weeks Pregnant

Preparations for baby’s arrival are still woefully underfunded. With not one but two insurance claims put in this week (one a result of a nasty car accident) we’re berating ourselves for not having attacked the January sales with more ferocity. She now has a bath, and all the furniture she needs, and I’m delighted that she’ll be spending her first few month in an NCT bedside crib courtesy of Bednest, but she’s looking set to be a right exhibitionist as we haven’t bought her a single sleepsuit or babygrow. My breastfeeding ambitions better go to plan too as there are no bottles in the kitchen cupboard either > This is all a little woe-is-me isn’t it? We’re not as poor as I make out, but it certainly feels like it sometimes.

I was very close to reneging on the No Pink rule this week too. Having had my head turned by a seriously cute Laura Ashley print, I very nearly abandoned the grey and yellow nursery theme in favour of chintzy flowers. Thankfully Craig caught me just as the mouse cursor hovered over the checkout button and he gave me a stern talking to. I can now safely say I’m back on track and thinking rationally again.

So that’s it. This is the person I am at 31 weeks pregnant. Please tell me it gets quicker from here on in - Please, please, please.