Week 22

New wintery pyjamas!

New wintery pyjamas!

Mr Bump has really grown this week; I was just lying in the bath realising I can’t see my ladybits anymore! The first discomforts of pregnancy hit over the past few days, mainly at night, when it’s getting hard to find a position to sleep in. My sleeping position of choice is face first into the pillow, on my front [much to the amusement of many room-mates in Calcutta dormitories over the years!]. Obviously this hasn’t been workable for a while now, so I tend to alternate between left and right, but the weight of Mr B makes it uncomfortable at times, and I awoke last night – ravenous – and in mild agony, at MIDNIGHT! This is what happens when one falls to sleep too early. I got up, made a bowl of crunchy nut cornflakes, a mug of Horlicks, and watched Scott & Bailey on the iPlayer until 2am. I finally got comfy, and really didn’t want to get up when my alarm was blaring the Jitterbug at 7am! I’m going to locate a maternity pillow which should help, and I have a new chair at work with no arms, to help the posture at my desk. I find it hurts at the top of my ribs under my boobies, a stretching type muscle thing, mainly on the right. Anyway, here’s hoping for a better night’s sleep … my mission is to stay awake until 10pm! This would be a real achievement this week. I think Mr B is on a growth spurt, as I’ve been rather STARVING …. and I’ve only been swimming once! Must try harder. Think of the thunder thighs.

In other news, Ludmila the Communist has returned from the car hospital all shiny. I treated her to her favourite cherry flavoured jelly bean air freshener tonight. I FINALLY sign contracts on Monday, so my move really IS imminent and I become a proper grown up person with a mortgage. It’s most exciting, but I will be glad when I’m settled … there seems an awful lot to do!

Sometimes I lie awake at night and think what a crazy year 2014 has been … had you told me this time last year where I’d be now, I’d never have believed you! Life has a funny way of working things out …

This post seems rather whiny and mundane; I’ll write something exciting over the weekend about tomorrow’s Halloween activities and hopefully report some good night’s sleep …. before that though, I may just need another bowl of crunchy nut cornflakes.

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Mr Bump

Mummy's little man

Mummy’s little man

I’m really glad it’s friday tomorrow … it has been a busy week and I’m sleepy. Baby boy is learning to boot his mummy in the tummy, and I’ve ordered this superlicious babygrow for the little chap. I struggled to sleep on Monday night after the excitement of the scan; and I had a rather hormonally induced “when did my thighs get so big” day on Tuesday. My thighs have always been the bane of my life, and it seems they are slightly out of my control at the moment. I’m trying to swim three times a week, but I need to let go of the irrational fat fears. Baby boy is the most important thing, and I can go jogging with the pram in the spring.What are thunder thighs when you’re creating a new life …

It makes a real difference now I have confirmation that my instincts were right …. it’s lovely being able to say “he” instead of “it”!

I admit, in the quieter moments, pregnancy does make me rather philosophical; – I find myself strangely tearful at times about how short life is [don’t even mention Lynda Bellingham’s last Loose Women … tissues at dawn] – how this little boy cushioned in my womb will one day be an old man … will have had highs and lows, been hurt, in love etc.etc. and I won’t always be able to prevent the bad things from happening. When I think about the kind of mother I’d like to be, and the kind of childhood I want baby boy to have … I want it to be fun, to be happy – adventurous, exciting … I want to be a hands on, messy Mummy. I want my little boy [my son, how amazing to be able to say that] – to know that he can always count on me for support, love, hugs and endless conversation. I want him to know that it’s okay to disagree with things, that I don’t have a set model I’d like him to conform to; – he will be who he wants to be … and sexuality, politics, career, are immaterial. I’d like to be an honest mother; honest about the important questions [“where do babies come from”] – and as available as I can be. I want to nurture him as an adventurous soul.

Again, some of you seasoned mothers will be giggling or sighing at my naivity … but already the love I feel for this little bundle are beyond my wildest dreams. I don’t think there is such a thing as “getting it right” – we all make mistakes; but from now on the most important thing in my life is my son, and his happiness. I may not be able to protect him from the inevitable pain that life brings, but I want him to look back and say he felt loved … that I did my best. And that, surely, is all we can ever do …

A bouncing baby BOY!

10409708_1657842577775507_7951167346722240270_nDo you have any thoughts on what gender the baby is?” asked the sonographer this afternoon …

I’ve thought it was a boy from the beginning” I said … suddenly a little nervous that I may be disappointed if I was wrong ….

You’re right” she replied! A bouncing baby boy!  I KNEW it! I knew from the very beginning! I’m so pleased my instinct served me well …

The scan was super; my Mum and cousin came along [plus the father; long story] – my cousin is going to be birthing partner, so it was lovely to have my family there and able to see such detail on the screen. Seriously, seeing that little heart pumping away, the tiny kidneys and fingers and toes … all just perfectly bouncing around inside me. Incredible! I did have to get up and eat a chocolate bar [under instruction!] to try and get baby boy to move …. what a perfect excuse to eat a Wispa Gold [haven’t had one of those in years!!]

So I’m feeling quite delighted this evening … and had a spot of Guinness to celebrate ….! I’m so glad to know what I’m having, and can’t wait to raid Baby Joules!

Now just the small matter of moving house and designing my cowboy themed nursery!

Rants of a pregnant woman

This week has been slightly taxing. My rainy Monday morning began with an awkward scrape in my car [Ludmila the Communist, a rather jolly little red C1] – entirely my fault – wrong lane, little sideways collision with a fancy Audi estate. This is my second minor accident since being preggers; I’m sure my spacial awareness is fucked, as is my insurance premium. So I’m now driving a fancy Corsa whilst Ludmila is in the hospital. Add to this complexities concerning solicitors and the impending house move [come on people, patience has never been my strong point!] – I really need to vent.

Firstly; I’m continually amused at how my bulging belly is an apparent magnet to wandering male hands. Yes, I’m preggers yes there’s a baby wriggling around inside it, and no, I haven’t just been a greedy piggy and eaten all the pies [althought perhaps ….] BUT that doesn’t give you an automatic right to fondle my uterus. Weirdos.

Secondly, if I choose to enjoy a small glass of wine or half a Guinness once a week, this is not an open invite to condemn me as selfish or borderline alcoholic. Indeed, your opinion was really not required at all. I’m quite able to read and understand respected reports [and by that I DON’T mean the evils of google or mumsnet] myself, and can assure you my baby is not going to be born hankering after the Chardonnay minutes after I’ve expelled it from my vagina.

Thirdly, a colleague actually questioned my request for an instant coffee this week “you shouldn’t be having caffeine when pregnant” HE said. I had to show him the NHS guidelines on caffeine before I was finally able to get the fucking coffee down my throat.

I think I’ll stop there.

I’m not ill, I’m pregnant. Women have been doing it for quite a long time, and way before the introduction of google. How oh how did our grandparents cope [and manage to prodce a generation much hardier than todays]

 

 

Cambridge Baby

10458474_1652096671683431_3105316910575184192_nAt the end of a grey rainy day at work, I arrived home to this lovely package in the post. No pressure or anything baby! It’s incredible to think that the little flutters in my tummy will one day emerge [with clouds of fairydust and a puff of glitter from the jaffa] and wear this! I remember on the day of my Cambridge interview [was that really 14years ago!] my parents went shopping and collected me with a gift of a top with a union jack heart and “Cambridge Babe” inscribed underneath. I wore it until it fell apart!

In fact, considering I’m going to an Archaeology Department centenary celebration/reunion on 28th February, just a few days before my due date … baby could indeed be a Cambridge baby …

… in the meantime, as my tummy grows, I consider what type of mum I’d like to be … what sort of environment I want to create for baby cupcake. It may sound a little “deep” for a Wednesday evening before the Bake Off final, but I found myself sitting at my desk contemplating my views on christenings. I was christened, and went to Sunday School at the local CofE church when I was little. In later years I dappled with Catholicism [3months living with the Poor Clares, countless years working with Missionary of Charity nuns in Calcutta]. Nowadays I live a life devoid of religious practice but [I hope] one following “Christian” values. I won’t be bringing my baby up with a religious doctrine, therefore I don’t think a christening would be a moral choice [even though it’s nice to dress up, have a party and get lots of presents!]. I’d like to take the approach of “some people believe in God, others don’t, and there are many different Gods in the world … what matters most is how we treat others and that we live according to our own moral compass …” I’ve said before that I’d like to take my child to Calcutta when they’re old enough to appreciate it; because it was in those dusty chaotic alleyways that I learned most about love and humanity … even if I never quite grasped the “God bit”. I think the people and scenarios from the dispensary, from Sealdah, from Kalighat … always prod at me that life is short, precious, to be lived, and appreciated. For every bad day we  have, every bored moment … there are people taking their last breath, people dying of treatable diseases, living a trapped educationless existence, hungry, thirsty …. I’d like my child to know that perspective, and to realise how lucky we are here in the UK …

I hope to be a liberal parent … one who listens and isn’t too precious to apologise when I’ve made a mistake. I’d like a dialogue with my child from a young age, an openness to encourage honesty and sharing. I don’t want to be the overpowering helicopter mother, yet I want to be there guarding and protecting the life now trampolining on my bladder.

I guess many of you are reading this and smiling …. the ideals of a mother-to-be, who has no real idea of the realities of motherhood. I hope this blog will chart the journey … and who knows, maybe one day baby cupcake will be reading this telling me where I went wrong!

 

 

 

Pretty Damned Fine

Perfect Saturday!

Perfect Saturday!

This is how my weekend began, boiled eggs and soldiers in bed with the Guardian, my Grand National mug, and radio 4. Granted, beforehand I’d had to throw on my parka over my pyjamas and brave the rain to walk to Tesco Express for bread … but it was totally worth it. Who needs a man to bring you breakfast in bed when you can make it yourself and get it right?! I imagine come the spring I won’t have time for such luxuries, so I will make the most of them!

Actually; the weekend began on Friday evening with a trip to the cinema to see “Gone Girl“. I haven’t read the book, so had no idea what to expect. Our little cinema in Kidderminster isn’t renowned for huge crowds, on occasion my mother and I have been the only ones in the theatre [okay, this was “Diana the movie” … enough said …] – but there were over 20 people there on Friday so expectations were great. It was a very well produced film; disconcerting, disturbing, confusing … I didn’t particularly like any of the characters; a film devoid of a hero/heroine … although I hope I never come into contact with  an “Amazing” Amy. I won’t spoil the plot for those of you waiting to see it …

The past week FLEW by; and [as I fondle the wooden bookcase beside me], dare I say how WELL I feel. Second trimester is pretty damned fine; energy levels roaring, sleeping well [or rather getting good at peeing in the dark and falling straight back to sleep afterwards!] – hair and skin better than it’s ever been. My only complaint is my bloody thighs – enormous things! I’ve been walking 4miles after work in the evenings in an attempt to reduce them … but I’d rather have chunky thighs than my head down the toilet puking. I did order a  maternity swimsuit from eBay. Be gone, big thighs! I’ll be jogging with the pram in the spring! Not long now until the 20 week scan and the “gender reveal” – very very exciting.

So far this morning [it’s 8.10am] I’ve written two letters to India, one to the Philippines, and one to America. I’ve ordered my Christmas cards and begun my Christmas shopping. Organised dot com. Am now half listening to Sunday Worship on Radio 4, Harvest songs blasting away … reminding me of cling filmed boxes of apples and tins from Harvest Festivals of old at school … We Plough the Fields indeed.

Pseudomonas 2013

Pseudomonas 2013

The coming week brings the first anniversary of my nasty pesky corneal ulcer of 2013 [here, have a photo!]. As I lay in a hospital bed with yellow goo pouring out of a very sore and poorly eye, I’d never have believed anyone who told me a year on I would be 5 months preggers and about to buy my very own flat. How times change, and what a crazy brilliant year 2014 has been so far. I may not have imagined still being in Kidderminster and pregnant outside of a relationship at 32 …. but this is the biggest adventure yet; and one I relish immensely … introducing my own little baby cupcake to the world of wonderful things.

If you do wear contact lenses though, do be careful!

Happy Sunday lovely people!