Apologies For My Absence

So, I've been out of action for some time now! Sorry. I'm now 16 weeks pregnant, and I hate to admit that I'm not having the best time. I've felt generally rubbish throughout, and have struggled to find the time to write at all. But I'd like to give you all an update on my pregnancy so far. 

I seem to be suffering far more, and much earlier on than I ever did with the other 3. In fact, for a long while Mr P and I were convinced I'd got more than one baby in there! Everything just seemed amplified, from my constant nausea to my huge bump. We were certain that the scan would either reveal a multiple pregnancy, or that I was in fact much further along than we thought. 

The scan date arrived, and I have to say, I deflated slightly when the sonographer found just the one baby. This feeling soon lifted when I saw the little flicker of baby's heartbeat on the screen. How could I possibly be disappointed with the little miracle growing inside me? And in the grand scheme of things, twins would be more than a handful on top of the 3 I've already got! 

I can't say I'm looking forward to the weeks ahead. At 16 weeks I'm already struggling with the headache from hell, my legs are riddled with painful varicose veins, the phlebitis in my left ankle is a burning mess, and my hips are starting to ache at night. All symptoms I've experienced in previous pregnancies, but never this early on. And I'm sure there's more to come with the odd bout of heartburn, a bit more nausea, baby jabbing me in the ribs. 

But would I change a thing? Absolutely not! I may not particularly enjoy the whole pregnancy process, but just look at the end result! All the aches and pains and moans and gripes are totally worth it in the end. 

A Weekend of Pampering

Last weekend marked the occasion of my big sister's hen weekend. It was an intimate family gathering, and we all had a wonderful time.

 As the chief bridesmaid, or maid of honour as she prefers to call me (I think that makes me sound old!), it was my job to organise it. My sister is fairly quiet, so the usual wild hen night would've been highly inappropriate. I was under strict instructions not to go too crazy. So we settled on a spa weekend. It was just myself, my two sisters, our mum and her two sisters. It was really great to just have some downtime together. 

The hotel was stunning. Very spacious rooms and lovely modern facilities. The spa itself was very basic, just a small pool, a Jacuzzi, a steam room and a sauna, but it was ample for a weekend. And with the treatments included in our package, we had plenty to be doing. We had a scrumptious three course dinner on Saturday evening, followed by a few drinks and lots of laughs back at our room. 

After not nearly enough sleep, we woke to a delicious full English breakfast. I think I ate my own body weight in sausages! Then my sister and two aunts tried their hardest to convince me to join them in the gym. We all know that was never going to happen! I don't even own a gym kit, so I certainly hadn't packed one in my case! Anyway, the Jacuzzi was far too inviting to waste time in the gym. My little sister and I spent the whole morning bubbling away. Mum chose to spend her morning dozing in the relaxation room, with an endless supply of tea. 

At lunch time we dined in our spa robes. That was an odd experience, mingled in the dining room with none spa guests all fully dressed, whilst we wore just our swimwear covered by a dressing gown! Of course we weren't the only underdressed people in the room, and I suppose when you stay in a spa hotel you expect to see it, but that didn't make it feel any more normal. After a slow and relaxed afternoon we finally got dressed and went home.

 We had such a wonderful time that we've decided to make it an annual event. Not the hen party of course, there's only so many weddings six women can muster up. But the weekend away together was heavenly. I could definitely get used to being pampered. 

My Not So Secret Secret

So, last week I found out I'm pregnant. Unexpected but thrilled to be adding to our brood. We told all the important people; parents, siblings and close friends, and decided that would be it until the first scan. 

Well, I'm clearly rubbish at keeping secrets! It just keeps falling out of my mouth. I'll be having a conversation with another mum on the school yard and blurt out that I'm having a baby. So many people know that I've now forgotten who I've told and who I haven't. I swear I need my mouth taping shut (which could also help me to stop filling my face with food! I just cannot stop eating!!)

Someone asked me the other day what I'll do with myself when my youngest starts nursery in September and instead of just coming up with a general 'oh, I'm sure I'll find something to occupy me' I said 'that won't be a problem come January once the new baby's born'. I'm so excited about it, I just can't help myself! 

Then there's my old work friend. She has a nearly 1 year old and is about 10 weeks pregnant with her second. When she told me about it I'd said that we were planning on trying next year. She told me to pull my finger out because she wanted a bump buddy. So of course I had to tell her that she'd got her own way! 

I'd arranged to have gossip over a bottle of wine with one of the school mums and when she text me to ask when we were doing it I told her she might have to wait 9 months or so. Technically, I didn't tell her, she guessed! But still, another one to add to the tally! 

Mr P on the other hand has been excellent at keeping the secret. He puts me to shame! I wish I knew how he did it. I just have zero control over my mouth. I even told the lady who runs the cafe I regularly drink at. I can't even explain that one. We weren't even having a conversation that could have led to me revealing my pregnancy. I think my husband needs to give me lessons on keeping quiet! 

Birthday Musings

It's my birthday today. 27 years young! I honestly don't know where the years are going. My little sister takes her first GCSE exam today, and it seems like only yesterday that it was myself in her position. I struggle to comprehend where the last 11 years have gone.

I remember wishing my school days away, as most people probably do. Wishing I was old enough to 'do what I want'. And I remember my school days dragging by so slowly! But since I left school, someone seems to have hit the fast forward button and I wish I knew how to slow it back down. I'm fast approaching 30 and the thought terrifies me. I can't explain why it fills me with such dread, but being in my twenties sounds so much younger being in my thirties.

Then I look at everything I've got in life. I'm just 27 years old and already I've met the man of my dreams, married him and had 3 (soon to be 4) children with him. We own a beautiful home in a lovely neighbourhood. How many people my age are able to say they have all this? I'm incredibly lucky that I'm able to be a stay at home mum. I love being the one who takes the children to school, and the one who collects them again at the end of the day. Or if one of them gets sick and needs collecting early, I'm there. I wouldn't want it any other way.

So, back to the point. It's my birthday! I love my birthday (aside from the fact that it makes me another year older!) I've had some lovely gifts, a camera, a bracelet, a purse and some smellies. Mr P and I went out for a celebratory meal on Saturday, which was wonderful. And my children are behaving for once! This in itself is a very rare occasion. This evening I'm going to treat myself to a lovely bubble bath, rock and roll I know, but my usual glass or 2 of wine is perhaps not the best idea in my condition, so a bubble bath it is.

Well, there you go... Happy birthday me! I'll be back again soon.

I'm Pregnant!!!

Well here's a blog I wasn't planning on writing for at least another year! If you've read my introductory blog you'll know that Mr P and I have 5 children between us. We found out yesterday that I'm expecting number 6! 

Our youngest is coming up for 3 in June, and we'd decided that we wanted another baby, but not until he was in full time school. So September 2014. That meant we would start trying to conceive in January next year. Well, since making that decision, we've perhaps not been as careful as we had been previously. Ok, there's no perhaps about it. That pink line on the home pregnancy test shows we definitely haven't been very careful. We're both a little bit shocked if I'm honest, but thrilled all the same. 

I don't know why I'm so shocked. We've never really had to try to fall pregnant. My first baby was conceived the month after finishing on the depo provera injection. I'd come off it so that it was out of my system by the time we got married 3 months later and we'd be ready to start trying for a baby straight away. Apparently I didn't need that long for my body to find its rhythm again! Then my daughter was conceived when my son was just 6 months old, again without really thinking about it. Then I was pregnant with my other son by the time my daughter was 6 months old. That whole 'breastfeeding acts as a natural method of contraception' is a myth! So the fact that I have fallen pregnant again without really trying shouldn't come as such a surprise.

I sat here yesterday, a day after my period was due, with a gut feeling that I was expecting. But I didn't want to allow myself to think it in case I was setting myself up for disappointment. The only thing I had to go on was my absent period. And then I noticed the distinct blue-black bulging veins in my ankle. I'd first had them when I was pregnant with my daughter, and then again with my son. That's how I knew I was expecting him. I'd not had any periods since my daughter was born, and when I saw my ankle was bad again I just knew that was the reason. The same happened yesterday. The penny dropped, so to speak. 

I told Mr P and he insisted I took a test. I wanted to leave it a few days in case my body was throwing a wobbly. I hate the disappointment of seeing a negative pregnancy test, and although deep down I knew it wouldn't be negative, I didn't want to risk it. He won in the end though. He convinced me to test. I did what I had to do then handed him the test and he closed the bathroom door on me. When it flung open again not 30 seconds later I just knew it was positive. I didn't even need to see the emotional grin on his face to work that out! 

We are both over the moon. Ok, so it's earlier than we had planned. I didn't want to be doing 3 school runs a day with a new born in tow, but it's not the end of the world. I'm a firm believer of what will be will be. Obviously it's very early days, so it wont be public knowledge for some time, but seeing as very few of you know my true identity I thought this was a nice way to document it. 

House to Home - Finally

Just a short entry today. Things have been a bit busy here recently. 

This time last year, Mr P and I decided it was time to move house. We lived in a three bed Victorian terraced house and our family had rapidly outgrown it. We had four children, all sharing one bedroom, and our fifth in the box room. We needed somewhere bigger! So we bought this place, our forever home. 

We'd been saving for a long time and we spent every penny we had in order to move. The house we bought was a new build, so we had a lovely blank canvas to work with. Unfortunately we didn't have the funds to do anything with it! So for the past ten months we've been surrounded by magnolia. And nice and fresh as it was to start with, it soon started to look grubby. Cream walls plus three little people are not the best combination! 

We've gradually found our feet again since we moved in and have recently started to decorate. I cannot tell you how good it feels to finally be adding some colour to the place! We're attacking it bit by bit, one room at a time. At the moment we're half way through the lounge/dining room. We have tried our hand at wallpapering for the first time ever and we've done a pretty good job if I do say so myself. Ok, so I mainly stood and watched while my husband did all the work, but I did a great job of making tea! 

I can't wait to go shopping now for all the little bits and bobs. Lamps, pictures, the finishing touches. After being our new house for nearly a year, it's finally starting to feel more like our home. Hopefully by the end of the year, every room in the house will have a little bit of our personality stamped on it. My daughter has already requested a rainbow in her room. I'm looking forward to seeing that one become reality.

So this is why I've been a bit quiet lately. I've barely found time to sit and have a coffee, never mind think about writing! Hopefully you won't be waiting too long for my next entry.

A Difficult Beginning (part three)

Here's part 3, hopefully the final installment of the story. Sorry, it's turned out longer than I first anticipated! 

My baby girl was fighting for her life on the intensive care unit of a strange hospital, and I was struggling with being so far away from my loved ones at a time when I needed them most. This neonatal unit had a fairly different approach to the one at our own hospital. They encouraged the parents to be as actively involved as possible, showing us how to correctly tube feed her, change her nappy, wash her eyes and lips. I liked the responsibility of caring for my own daughter. 

However, the maternity ward was also very different to the one back home. They had strict rules and practices. I missed medication time once as I'd been upstairs with my daughter at the time, and when I got back down to the ward I realised just how much pain I was in (something I'd been neglecting over the last few days). One particularly harsh midwife told me that she was not unlocking her drugs trolley for one patient who can't abide by the rules. Well, 5 days post natal, I was already an emotional mess, so this was just the icing on the cake. I went back into my room and sobbed, until a more sympathetic midwife came in with some paracetamol for me. 

It turned out that the medicine my daughter was specifically transferred for wasn't needed in the end. They gradually weaned her off the ventilator. The most heartbreaking moment was when we were celebrating the fact that our daughter was breathing by herself, the parents and doctors of the very poorly little boy in the incubator next to us made the decision to withdraw care from him. I felt guilty for congratulating our baby on doing so well when just feet away, another family were grieving for their son. 

The time had come for me to be discharged. They'd already kept me in a day longer than I should have been so I could stay close to my daughter. But now they were sending me home. There were no parent rooms available on the neonatal ward, so I had to go home. The doctors assured me that my girl would be well enough to transfer back over the following day, so it would only be overnight that I was apart from her. I could handle that. Then the morning came and I got the call I'd been dreading, she'd taken a turn for the worse in the night but had begun to stabilise again. So instead of her coming back to our hospital, we made the drive back over to her. Leaving her again that evening was even harder, not knowing when she'd be fit to transfer back. 

The next day (only day six of her life, and she'd already been through so much) was the first day I couldn't be with her. Our double pushchair was due for delivery, and I needed some quality time with my son, who was only 15 months old himself. It had been a nearly a week since I'd seen him and I'd missed him so much. So I sent Mr P off by himself. I got a phone call from him just after lunch time, an update I assumed, and he told me they were back in our own hospital, just over the road from the house! I was elated, and mad that he'd not rang before now, but he didn't want to build my hopes up if the transfer wasn't going to happen again. Then I was with her in minutes! I was so relieved to have her nearby again. 

Things moved pretty quickly then. She was out of her incubator and in an open cot within a day of being back. She was very quick to establish feeding, considering she was 7 days old and had never latched on before. She just had to finish her course of antibiotics and I'd be allowed to take her home. We spent 2 nights finding our feet in one of the neonatal flats, where I was able to care for her totally by myself, with the exception of a nurse popping in 3 times a day to administer her medicine. It was bliss, just me and my girl. 

She was 11 days old when I finally got her home. All the pain and sadness that had tarnished the second half of my pregnancy just vanished. She was perfect. And she still is, just over 4 years later.