Dayglo, skull-shaped confectionery

What a busy baby I have had all day today! Yesterday I thought he was quite quiet, and maybe had changed postion because his movements felt deeper and I couldn’t actually see him moving, so I thought maybe he had turned to face my back (which is how he will hopefully end up before birth…) but today he is very definitely back in his favourite postion, and boy has he been bouncing off the walls! Wondered if maybe it was because I did some yoga this morning to wake me up, and it woke him up too. Or tea. I drank too much tea today. Must try to say no to tea at work. I’m very good with the coffee – only drink decaf, but I can’t stand decaf tea, sadly. And I need my tea.

I’m in bed now, on this very cold Halloween night. Went out briefly after work with some work friends for a couple of swift bitter lemons (how times have changed!) and then to the gym for a lovely swim and shower. Home pretty early and had more thai green chicken curry and then to bed. No trick or treaters thankfully. Nothing to give them. Well, a bit of fruit. But I don’t suppose trick or treaters consider fruit to be a treat. It has to be dayglo confectionery products vaguely shaped like skulls nowadays, I believe. Otherwise it just doesn’t count.

But what if you give a trick or treater, say, an apple, and they don’t consider it treat-like enough? Do they have the right to do a trick on you anyway? Who gets to decide what is a treat? And what is a trick? What sort of tricks do trick or treaters play nowadays? If acceptable levels of TV prankery are anything to go by, it would be perfectly fine to burn your house down if you didn’t stump up the requisite weight of skull-shaped fruit pastilles. Well, looks like I escaped finding out any of these things this time round…

Eeurgh. I don’t need tricksters coming at me from the outside when I’ve got my very own little person using my bladder as a football!

Mothership

Went swimming after work today and am now starting to feel slower in the water, although strangely buoyant too! I think the breathing exercises are paying off. I am never happier than in water. I could spend hours swimming, bathing, showering, just being in and around it. I so want a water birth. I know it may not happen that way though, I am prepared for that. But the idea is so nice, I’m sure I would be so relaxed and could let myself go much easier in water than on land.

I feel the journey I am on very intensely. I feel my body changing, and with it my mind, my emotional life, my persona, my deepest ‘me’. I am changing physically and spiritually. I live for my baby, literally. I am the vessel, the carrier, the mothership. Within me is a new life, a new being, a new human. When I think about it, I am amazed and uncomprehending. How can this be? That I am carrying a new human being in my tummy. When I have a cold drink and stroke my tummy firmly, my new tiny human being moves, and sometimes strokes back! I am in awe of my tummy and the miracle that is happening inside it.

I don’t think I ever thought about this inner journey when I embarked on it. About the changes that would happen to me. I thought about the change in my life – how I’d have to give up certain things, adopt new ways of living, of being. But I didn’t think about how I as a person would change. I’m not sad or frightened by the change, I embrace it, I welcome it. It’s the next phase of my life as a woman. I have been a daughter, a sister, a lover, a career woman. I have been other things. A teacher. A musician. I have loved being all these things.

Now it’s time to be a mother. Wake up, mother in me. I want you to inhabit me. I want to become you. I’ll still hold the other ‘me’s inside me, but it will be you who guides me day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute. My child, whom I am creating, is leading me and changing me. He moves to my rhythm and I to his.

I’m a little emotional at the moment, as you have probably gathered!

Waiting for things to start moving… or not…

I have had a nightmare day today. I can’t even begin to describe some of the finer detail, but it involves what I would describe as the worst case of constipation I have ever encountered. Ever. I’ve had it on and off since I got pregnant, and it is a common symptom of pregnancy. But this was in a different league entirely.

I felt absolutely fine all morning, went for a wander round the shops at lunchtime with Catherine, went back to the office and then felt the need for the loo. The upshot of this was that I remained on the loo for about 20 incredibly painful minutes while my insides tried to decide whether to go, or not to go. After a promising start, they slowed down to a halt. And didn’t start again. By which time I was in quite severe pain. I had to eventually go back to my desk, by which time they had decided to start again, but by the time I got to the loo, oh – what a surprise, they had decided to stop. I was in agony, and also starting to feel very ill and nauseous. And I was super-worried about the effect of all the straining on the baby. Finally, I realised I would have to go home. I couldn’t sit in the work loo all afternoon while my bowels decided what to do, and in so much pain I couldn’t actually stop myself groaning out loud! I don’t think anyone heard – but actually I got to a point where I didn’t care!

So I drove home – and guess what? Halfway home my insides decided to start moving. Drive, drive, drive I repeated to myself all the way, every single traffic light was on red, every single car in front of me drove at 5 miles an hour… and a traffic jam just 10 seconds from my house. I made it, though (a very close thing though!), ran upstairs shedding coat, scarf, bag on the stairs, and got to the toilet. Just in time.

Indescribable pain. Then utter bliss. Afterwards I sat there for ages, just staring in front of me. Like I was in shock or something. Like I’d woken up from a bad dream. This sounds totally over the top, but it really was an absolutely horrible nightmare experience. I am now paranoid that I’m going to get this now till the birth. Urgh. Please, no no no.

Owen is fine, though, he’s been kicking and prodding my tummy all evening. He’s clearly expressing his happiness that the pipework has been unblocked!

Hormonal crazy pregnant bird alert!

Hormonal crazy pregnant bird alert! I really lost the plot at the doctors this morning. It was yet another receptionist who decided to make my life hell. I had booked a blood test and a gp appointment, but unfortuntely the surgery cocked it up and got them the wrong way round. This wouldn’t usually have been a problem, but for this blood test I had to have it exactly one hour after drinking 275ml lucozade. No problem. I just need to swap the appointments round.

Oh ho, but no. Not possible. Not humanly, or even inhumanely, possible. Receptionist says no. Queue is forming behind me. But… I NEED to do this test… No. Computer says no. Queue rage is building. Stupid fat man behind me clears his throat for the twentieth time. Woman with small child glares icily. My face is red and I feel my throat closing up, the backs of my eyes begin to throb.

I sit, as instructed, in the waiting room like I’m sitting on a bed of nails. The phlebotomist calls me in and I try to explain the situation. My eyes finally give up the losing battle and I explode in a crescendo of self-pitying tears. I stutter sorry, sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me… but I know what’s wrong with me. I am a stressy, stroppy, drama queen. I’m watching myself being it and hating myself but there’s nothing I can do.

It was all fine in the end. I got my bloods done at the right time, I saw the doctor and everything was fine, and I even got into work earlier than I thought. Owen kept up a helpful barrage of kicks and jerks through the whole episode, too! Maybe he picked up on my stress levels! Sorry sweetie, but life is a pain in the arse sometimes, and it’s never to early to learn these life lessons…

28 weeks today!

Another milestone reached! 28 weeks. Owen’s -12th week birthday! My little sweetheart. He is being very wriggly tonight, I think it’s because I’ve had a hectic day rushing around and he hasn’t had a chance to stretch his legs.

Met Catherine in town for lunch. My plan was to then head for the swimming pool and Tescos, but this plan got interrupted by a little visit to White Stuff, where I managed to spend a fortune on things I really don’t need. ‘I really can’t justify spending this much money’, I repeated dully to myself several times before suddenly finding myself at the till buying a(nother) blue top, a(nother) handbag (but it’s SOOO nice, and on SALE!!) and some pricey but very fluffy pink and grey stripy socks. The boy behind the counter had hair that looked as if several people had gotten hold of it and pulled in four or five different directions before spraying it with rock hard hairspray. Maybe it is my age, but I really wanted to say, ‘brush your hair, young man!’ I didn’t. He was very nice though, and offered me free peanuts, which I declined.

I made it to the swimming pool, then, fresh and relaxed, I drove to Tesco, and swiftly undid all the good work. Firstly, I had not eaten and therefore about halfway round suddenly found myself growling like a bear with a sore head and desperately in need of junk food. I had to have a kitkat there and then. Saturday is also the day when couples decide they are going to do the food shopping TOGETHER. How nice. I remember doing that. Once. After that, you make an agreement never to do it again. I was utterly knackered, stressed, hungry, achey and over-emotional by the time I left. Felt like I’d run a marathon!

Dad phoned me today – at long last! It was nice to talk to him. I told him off, and he apologised for not contacting me after my 20 week scan. I think he was just being a crap bloke, as mum said. He said that he is excited about the baby, but probably doesn’t show it in the same way as mum. But whatever the reasons, he’s phoned me now, and we had a good long chat and I feel much happier. He’s going to buy Owen a baby gym, and he’s also going to get me some furniture for when I move into the flat.

I am going to sleep now, my eyes are closing already! And Owen is napping too, I think.

Goats don’t worry about it, so I shan’t.

Unconcerned pregnant goat

Today I am worried about womb pressure. Does such a problem exist? Am I inventing problems where there aren’t any? I suspect I am – the only thing on the internet I could find upon googling ‘amniotic fluid pressure’ was an article about goats. It’s just that it feels so uncomfortably taut and stretched to me, which presumably means it’s quite pressured in there. Oh well. Goats don’t worry about it, so I shan’t.

Friday, thank god. I struggled all day to maintain a semblance of productivity but don’t think I fooled anyone. They all know that all I can think about is Owen. No one else appeared to be particularly motivated either. I went out at lunchtime to pick up some dry cleaning and somehow managed to spend a fortune on essential oils, herbal tea, aromatherapy candles and other hippy paraphenalia that I am hoping will help me have the natural birth I am determined to have. This evening I sat in the bath with my scented candles, drinking raspberry leaf tea. It was sheer bliss, I have to say! I had forgotten how relaxing it is to sit in a bath in a darkened room with candles. Owen also seemed to enjoy himself, he made lots of ripples on the water, anyway!

I am a bit cautious about the raspberry leaf tea, though. I am 28 weeks tomorrow and there seems to be a lot of conflicting information about what exactly this herbal tea does. Some sites say it can bring on contractions. Others say that this is a total myth, and that it will only help contractions if labour has already started. It does help the uterus cope with contractions, though. I guess the odd cup here and there is probably not going to send me into labour! And Owen is still sitting tight in there. He is minus 12 weeks tomorrow!! That is the length of time that I didn’t know I was pregnant, and that’s a very scary thought! I certainly know about it now… he won’t let me forget for a minute!

Preg-head alert!

Have just been trying to tie myself in knots, otherwise known as yoga.

Why am I so totally inflexible? I’m not unfit. I gym and swim without too much difficulty. But my joints and muscles just seem so rigid and tense. I can’t make them relax into these seemingly effortless postures that are demonstrated by the heavily pregnant woman in the book. Why can she do it and not me? It’s not fair. I think she’s just got a cushion stuffed up her silly stripy leotard. I guess practice makes perfect, so I’m going to try and practise some of these positions every night. Before you know it, I’ll be in the lotus position, hanging upside down from a tree chanting ‘om’. I may even give birth in that position. That’d raise a few eyebrows.

So I am nearly 28 weeks, and in my third trimester – I’m so excited! Less than 2 months till I leave work and less than 3 months till I meet my little guy! Every particle of my being is now focussed on preparing myself for his arrival. I’m reading everything I can lay hands on. I’m stepping up my yoga and swimming routines and everything I eat is with my baby in mind. I’m practising positions for birth. I’m doing – at least I’m trying to do – perineal massage. If you don’t know what that is, Google it. I’d never heard of it before I got pregnant, now it seems to me to be a pretty damn important, if slightly uncomfortable, ungainly and unpleasant activity! I am talking and singing to my bump whenever I can, and he seems to respond to my touch now, so I try to do some rubbing, stroking and gentle pressure whenever he’s awake and active. I’ve bought most of the stuff I need for just after the birth now, there’s only a few bits and bobs I need and actually they’re not essentials, they can wait a bit.

I can’t concentrate at work for very long. I have developed what I’m calling ‘preg-head’, which is apparently a common ailment in pregnant women. It might also be called ’space-cadet-ness’, ‘not all there-ness’ or ‘on another planet-ness’. It’s unavoidable, and is basically the result of the complete weirdness of having another miniature human being growing in your tummy. Some of it is physiological, but actually I suspect most of it is psychological/emotional. Look, I have a little person in my belly. I can even see him move sometimes. How can I possibly be expected to apply my brain to anything as mundane as a budget or a schedule when the miracle of new life is happening inside me?!

The alternative me, in the future I rejected

I feel HUGE today! Bump is definitely still growing, not that that should be any surprise I suppose. I’m just not used to the feeling of putting weight on. Before I was pregnant I struggled to maintain a decent weight. Sometimes weight dropped off me – particularly if I was stressed or miserable. I was permanently slightly underweight. So it’s really nice, actually, to finally be curvy and voluptuous! I’m very happy with all my new bumps!

Fi is off to India tomorrow. Fleetingly, I remember that this means the alternative me, in the future I rejected, would have been in Goa tonight, contemplating a train journey down the west coast of India to Kerala where I would be meeting Fi in two days time. Apparently it is 30 degrees and raining hard in Kerala at the moment. I can almost hear the rain on the hut roof and smell the wet vegetation. But I don’t dwell on this for long, and I don’t feel any sense of regret. Owen is my reality now! Every time I think about him I get a peaceful, joyful feeling. What that feeling says to me is that I chose the right future. Even though the father doesn’t want to know. Even though we’ll be on our own, and maybe struggle sometimes, I don’t have any doubt in my mind that I’ve done the right thing. I can feel myself growing into this reality, and it fits comfortably. It’s a perfect fit, in fact.

Yesterday was pregnancy yoga. We all sat wobbling on birth balls. Well, actually, everyone else seemed to be able to stay on their birth ball quite easily. Except me – I kept nearly falling off. Even lifting one foot off the ground overbalanced me dangerously. I started getting the hang of it towards the end though. Tonight I’ve been swimming. The gym has definitely got busier. The swimming pool is like the M25 now, after work. Maybe I should find different times to go. After swimming, I went to Asda and bought loads of stuff. Scarf, hat, gloves, knickers, nighties, slippers. And sausages.

Fetus discovers new ways to torture mum

27 weeks pregnant, being pummelled from the inside!

My little terror is finding new ways of torturing my tummy today! I think he is doing some kind of circuit training in there or something, he definitely feels like he’s been swinging off my belly button at times… not that I’m complaining, I love it when he’s this lively. Except sometimes it does get a bit sore when he decides to pick one spot to boot me in!

Yesterday we went to London with Zoe, to take a little trip from Kings Cross to Camden on the narrowboat. It was Owen’s 27 week birthday and the beginning of the third trimester, which I didn’t actually realise until today when I was looking to see when the third trimester starts. So another level reached in the game… every day brings B Day and the reality of meeting my little one closer and closer!

I wasn’t quite as useful as I could have been on the boat, but luckily another (male) friend of Zoe came along and made himself quite useful at the locks. I just sat around being pregnant. Trundled up the canal and as usual, attracted the stares of passersby. When you’re on a boat, it seems that you are the entertainment for all and sundry. And when you go through a lock you become a major tourist attraction. At the lock in Camden I started to feel quite uncomfortable with the crowds that gathered… but Zoe and Male Friend (forget his name!) didn’t seem bothered at all. They were actually doing productive, lock-opening type things though, as opposed to just sitting around looking fat and foolish. Once through the lock, we cruised up to Little Venice past London Zoo (saw warthogs and African hunting dogs which looked rather like Alsations that had been badly painted). As the afternoon wore on it began to get very cold, but it was one of those fabulously nippy but sunny autumn days, perfect weather for canal boating actually. We had dinner in a pub and I came home on the train.

For some reason I fell into a black, despairing mood in the taxi on the way home from the station, probably because the driver was a miserable, monosyllabic twat who overcharged me. I had a bit of a cry when I got home. Yet again I felt the lack of a partner to share my worries, stresses, happinesses with. Trying to share them with anyone else just isn’t the same. It didn’t last too long though. How can I stay sad for long with my baby gently (or roughly!) reminding me of his constant presence?!

Psst – look – pregnant lady!

My gym is fantastic. I only wish I could make more use of it, really. I can’t use the hot tubs or the sauna and I can’t do the free yoga classes. But it’s worth it, for the use of the pool alone. The gym is good too, but right now all I want to do most of the time is immerse myself in water and just zone out. The water is just warm enough, and the lighting is quite low and subtle, with coloured lights that gradually change. Usually there aren’t that many people using the pool so it’s quiet and relaxing. I do lengths, ten at a time, five breaststroke and then alternate breaststroke and crawl. I sometimes do back breaststroke and side stroke. Then I just float for a while. The removal of gravity from the bump is a blissful feeling.

However, this idyllic picture is somewhat jarred by the recent appearance of fairly high numbers of teenage boys in the hot tubs. Apparently they are also to be found in the sauna, sweating and hormonal. Where have they come from? They seem to have appeared from nowhere. They glance at my bump furtively, or not furtively at all as the case may be. One time, I walked past the hot tub and distinctly heard a very loud whisper… ‘Psst - look – pregnant lady!’ Although it made me snigger (and still does) it’s kind of intrusive, isn’t it? I mean, I wouldn’t point at them and whisper, ‘psst – look – pubescent boy!’ I know they’re young and have probably not seen very many pregnant ladies in swimwear before, but still. Tut, is all I can say. They don’t seem to come to the gym to work out, they just sit on their skinny teenage arses in the hot tubs and ogle the girls (who, incidentally, have usually come down from a strenuous work out or a session in the fitness suite).

Owen has been a busy boy most of today, kicking and wriggling and generally making his presence felt, but seemed to calm down when I was swimming and I think he must still be sleeping. I’ve felt the odd strange low down sensation, like he’s just flexed a little, but nothing else. I must just accept that he needs his beauty sleep too!