You may or may not be aware of a little smartphone app called Timehop? Well for those of you that haven’t heard of it, it basically shares pictures you’ve posted on Facebook from previous years to today’s date. So today it is the 1st April and my Timehop presented me with pics I posted on previous April Fool’s days.
Today’s Timehop from April Fool’s Day last year…
Not even funny!! Lol! That backfired on me didn’t it!! 😂😂😂
Seems impossible that I can be sat here exactly 2 weeks from the day that my baby – the baby that changed everything – is due to enter the world and turn my life upside down (more so than she already has)! I’ve reached that point in the pregnancy when I have had enough! I’ve been running on adrenalin for weeks, working full time right up to Friday making sure my work and my team didn’t suffer by my absence. And now I’m at home, waiting. I’ve been booked in to be induced on the due date, so there shouldn’t be any hanging around. Apparently the risk of stillbirth increases when you reach 40 so they don’t take any chances! Every cloud…and yet there’s something else to worry about there. Like the risk of losing her to Group B Strep wasn’t already scary enough!
I am so emotional! On the brink of tears through fear, pain, exhaustion, frustration, you name it I’m feeling it. There are things I want to do, but I am suffering with SPD (symphysis pubic dysfunction) which basically means I feel like my pelvis is splitting in two and the groin and back pain is unbearable. Getting comfortable is painful, then when I get comfy I need a wee and getting back up is painful. It’s like a vicious circle of pain, pain and more pain. But then I guess there’s more pain to come very soon! And I’m betting on red with this one! I’ve had 2 labours handled without pain relief. The first time I hardly knew I was in labour until my waters broke and I arrived at the hospital 7cm dilated on 2 paracetamol! With my second I was induced. When active labour started I was at TKMAXX with my husband and best mate, fitting in a bit of last minute shopping and a McDonalds before rushing back to hospital to deliver my son 3 hours later! Not that I boast about that…much!!! I have worn it like a medal of honour – I gave birth twice without pain relief! I am made of tough stuff! I mock the women on One Born Every Minute as they scream in pain even though they’ve had an epidural! And I am betting that this time I am made to pay for all that smugness!! This baby was sent here to teach me some lessons and I reckon a painful labour is one of those lessons. We shall see – in 2 weeks or less!
I think because I had 2 pretty straightforward labours (don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t like shelling peas – one got stuck and had to be sucked out in theatre, and the other was well overdue), plus the fact that this time I’ve been constantly reminded that there are no guarantees where the creation of life is concerned, has filled my head with negativity about the end result. No matter what I do to look to an exciting future there’s something (or someone) niggling at the back of my mind. When I’m in pain that voice is there saying “I hope she’s worth it”. When I buy something new, no sooner have I cooed over how pretty the little dress is, than the voice chips in: “Keep the receipt for that.” Today when I was making pretty satin ribbon bows to dress the nursery blinds, there it was scoffing, “That’s a whole lot of effort for nothing.” Every thing I do to prepare for the arrival feels like another nail in her coffin. I wish I could make it go away, but it’s not like it is a ridiculous notion. Things go wrong; bad things happen. And it’s my turn isn’t it? I’ve got two beautiful, healthy children – do I really deserve more of the same?
I just want her here. I need to get this over with so I can see what I’ve got! See whether the last 9 months have been worth it. See how much of a lesson is being delivered to me. I never felt this scared or negative about my first two. It never crossed my mind that I would not have beautifully healthy children at the end of that 9-month road. This time it’s overwhelmingly different. Because I’m aware of the risks with my age? Because of the Group B Strep? Because of the journey I’ve been on over the last 38 weeks? Or just because I don’t know why I would get to be lucky enough third time around? Who knows. All I do know is that for the next 2 weeks I’m going to feel like I’m walking the mile.
So, baby number 3, my unexpected treasure, is due 3 weeks today. “I bet you’re excited” everyone says. Am I? I’m actually somewhere in between nothing and miserable. I’m sat in a house surrounded by stuff. Pram, cradle, car seat, bouncy chair. There’s a pink nursery upstairs waiting for an arrival. And what does all that make me feel? Well, pretty much nothing. Is it just that I’m being practical? I’m 40 years old, and I’ve done this twice before haven’t I? And let’s face it, no matter how I feel now there is no getting away from the fact that this was not part of my life plan. Even if I had done a complete 360 and was gushing with excitement, there’s no point in denying that fact.
I’m trying not to overthink this one. Who says I should be giddy with excitement? I know that whatever happens I will love my little girl. She will fit into our home and our family and things will most likely be all kinds of wonderful. But! Yes there’s a but, and I don’t mind admitting it. I came here to be candid didn’t I? But, I had started to enjoy a life where I went places, saw things, travelled with friends, started to regain some of my youth. I’m making good money in my job which enables me to have a reasonably exciting life. And I know my other two children are still relatively young, but they’re old enough not to mind mummy enjoying herself once in a while. God I miss that life already. And I am already in mourning for the months ahead of me that will be taken by this change in circumstances. And yes, I know, this makes me sound like a completely shallow and selfish person, but I’m just saying it as it is. This blog was designed to allow me an outlet for my thoughts so I didn’t allow them to destroy me. I know I am a good person. I just liked the person I was last year, before this.
So, it’s hard for me to work out how I should be feeling about all this stuff around me. There’s a bit of me that’s scared about the effect this baby might have on my mental health. Having suffered with severe post-natal depression after my first daughter, I can’t help but wonder if the detachment that I already feel will carry over past the birth and be the dark shape of things to come. What will be will be I guess. It doesn’t need to be a self-fulfilling prophecy though. I just need to stop looking for a reason – does it matter why I feel what I feel? I feel it, and that is it.
Who would have thought that choosing a name for baby number 3 would be so hard?! I guess having already had a son and a daughter who were bestowed with my favourite names for their genders, I was going to have a tough time. In the last 36 weeks or so (less really given that I didn’t know I was pregnant until 7-8 weeks) I have read every list of every name I could find on the Internet. Pages and pages of names in alphabetical order, boys names, girls names, unisex names, classical names, pretty names, biblical names, Italian names, floral names…you name it, I’ve seen it! Add to that the attention to every TV and Film credit, every magazine, every Facebook comment; all in the hope that the perfect name would appear to me. Sure, there were names I thought were ‘nice’, plenty of pretty girls names out there, but adding each ‘nice’ name to the list didn’t give me any indication that I had found ‘the one’. And I kept waiting for lightning to strike.
Then there’s the sharing. One of the most asked questions of a pregnant lady must be “have you got a name?” That’s where the pressure starts! Panic! No I haven’t! I don’t have a clue! She is going to be nameless for ever!! And of course when you share your thoughts, you must be prepared to deal with the feedback. Everything from the blatant “Oh, I don’t like that” to predictions about how the child might be with a name like that; naughty, ugly, precocious. And then the guilt by association; “I knew a *** who was a bully in school”, “I teach a *** and they are really naughty”, “I once saw a really ugly ***”. So of course, that rules all of those names out!! I learned pretty quickly to stop sharing as more names were crossed off the list. Now that’s not to say that I didn’t have a mind of my own, it’s just that I hadn’t been 100% convinced either so I was easily swayed by the negative comments.
Then you get the suggestions. Everyone tells you the names they like. The names they would have called their own children. And it’s funny how their reaction to your rejection of their offerings far exceeds your own reaction when they ungraciously rejected your own choices for your unborn child! Ironic!
My friends recently threw me a baby shower and one of the ‘games’ we played was a name game. My best friend knew I was struggling on the name front so each guest was asked to write down a name for each letter of the alphabet. I think there were about 10 guests, so I came away with about 260 names that day and still nothing! Why was it so hard? I think there were a number of reasons.
1. Naming a child is a big responsibility. They are likely to have this thing for life. It could be one of the reasons why they love you or hate you as they grow.
2. There are so many expectations on you to wow with this wonderful gift of a name. It has to be pretty or strong, uncommon, individual and best of all it needs to represent a personality that you can have no idea about!
3. You have preconceived ideas and high expectations. You see, both of my children have been named with a nod to my literary favourites. There is a reason why their names were chosen, they weren’t just names I liked. And this one can’t be different can she – wouldn’t be right!
4. There is too much choice! When pretty much anything goes and you’ve got celebrities calling their babies North and Apple, the possibilities are endless! Where do you start?
5. It has to ‘go’ with the other children’s names. Now I personally don’t buy this one, but I’ve heard it a lot. Apparently it is imperative that when the 3 names are seen together, they sound ok. So now I am naming my child based on what will look ok in a greeting card!
6. It has to ‘go’ with your surname. I’m not sure I’m convinced about this one either. I mean, surely if the name is said often enough it becomes that familiar that it ends up just ‘going’. And if you’re having a girl it’s kind of a moot point because at some point they are likely to get married and take their husband’s name and the trouble you went to to find a name that perfectly matched your surname will all be forgotten! Heaven forbid she marries someone whose surname doesn’t match her first name! Wow, finding a life partner is hard enough without throwing that into the mix!
All the while though, this lack of a name has weighed heavily on my heart. I have attached huge significance to my inability to find one. My initial thought was that maybe this was my body’s way of telling me the hospital had got the gender wrong. The little voice in my head would say “perhaps you can’t think of a girl’s name because it isn’t a girl?” So I waited for a further scan to re-confirm whether baby 3 was pink or blue, believing that once I knew for sure a name would present itself to me in a dream or something! Once it was confirmed that she is most definitely a girl (I’m still kinda sceptical about that one if I’m honest) and the expected lightning strike didn’t materialise, other thoughts crept in. What if it was a sign that this baby wasn’t going to need a name? Something bad was going to happen. And maybe the fact that I didn’t have a name would somehow influence that outcome? I know, I know. It’s completely irrational. What happens when I’m in the labour room has nothing to do with whether I have thought of a name or not! But I’m an over-thinker, a catastrophic thinker, and I have a friend called ‘Ant’ who likes to remind me of these potential perils every now and again. You’ve read about me right?
This name game has kept me awake many nights during this pregnancy!
One of the ‘pearls of wisdom’ I have heard a lot is “It will come to you when she’s here.” Never got that! If you have no idea what you like and you haven’t got a shortlist how the hell are you going to ‘know’ just by looking at a crumpled purple newborn face? Don’t all babies look the same? Do you call them the first thing that pops into your head? Because if that’s the case the first thing I’m likely to be thinking about when it’s all over is Vodka!! Hmm, that’s got a nice ring to it…😉
Anyway, I’ve gone on far too much so let’s get to the punchline shall we. After weeks of agonising and sleepless nights, I deployed a new search tactic to the Internet trawl and was hit by a name. Didn’t know why I liked it, but it just gave me a feeling that I can’t describe. I did a little bit of research and found the literary links that I have with my other 2 children’s names. (Aside – feel I must share that as I typed ‘I have’ in the last sentence the autocorrect changed it to ‘Isabel’! So you can guess how that messed with my overthinking brain can’t you lol!) Anyway, a bit of juggling with other names I had on the list and it fell into place. I actually cried! I know! I’m nuts right?! But for me it was hugely significant given the journey I have been on. I couldn’t give birth to a child with no name. I’d reached 36 weeks with a nameless baby, and suddenly I felt like a connection was sparked once the name fell into place. She is no longer just a thing growing inside of my body. She is my daughter, and she is going to be here anytime soon 😊
I wish I could shake this dreadful sense of foreboding and just enjoy these moments. I don’t remember being this ‘doom and gloom’ about either of my other pregnancies. Maybe it is because this time the medical professionals have continually reminded me of the complications that being over 40 can bring? No wonder I feel flipping ancient! Maybe because this time there are complications that could have disastrous implications (even though 1 in 4 women have Group B Strep and manage just fine). Maybe because I feel like it would be karma for not wanting this in the beginning? Maybe because I’ve been on such a rollercoaster that I need this to be worth it. Maybe because of how much I want this now and I’m scared it will be taken away from me, and then what would I do?
My friends threw a baby shower for me yesterday. It was lovely, they all went to so much trouble and I was truly spoilt with things for me and baby. But even as I opened the gifts of little pink shoes and little pink clothes, I couldn’t help but notice a feeling of detachment. Like they were lovely things but they weren’t for a real live baby. It’s weird, I can’t explain it. If they weren’t for a baby then what would they be for!
When I got home (and after a long rest on the sofa) I started to look through all the lovely things I had been given by my generous friends. So many things. All beautiful too, there wasn’t anything I had to politely say thank you for whilst wondering how I could get away with baby never being seen in it! All lovely. And all a weird little omen. The voice in my head was all the time saying, “What on earth are you going to do with that lot when there’s no baby?” There. I’ve said it.
I feel deeply uncomfortable when people talk about the future – about when the baby is here. Because I can’t see her in my future. I can see the midwives’ faces covered in sadness, and hear the tone in the doctor’s voice as he tells me the news. I can see me, distraught and unable to function, curled up under a duvet never wanting to come out. I can hear my screams. I can’t see a happy ending.
Why the hell not? Is it normal? Is it just one of those things that pregnant women feel towards the end but never say out loud? Or am I seriously screwed up? Because I’m not talking a fleeting fear, I mean that I cannot shake the conviction that there will not be another baby in our home.
If I wasn’t so practical and others hadn’t pushed me, I think I’d have waited until after she arrived to buy anything. But now I’ve got a houseful of things and a little pink bedroom, and I can’t stop myself from wondering what we will do about it all when…
It’s debilitating. I want to feel more than dread when I look at those things. I want to pick up the little dress and hold it close over my belly and smile as I imagine my little princess. I want to see a future with this new beginning. But I dare not dream.
Sometimes when I’m laying in my bed and the sun is streaming through the slats in the blinds, I like to wiggle my toes at the end of the bed and watch above me as the sun catches the sequins on my duvet and turns them into a hundred dancing fairies on the ceiling.
I don’t think there is anything better than sunshine to bring some magic into the morning.
What’s the worst that can happen? Really! This weekend I ruined 2 days that should have been spent with my children, and my husband decorated the nursery which should have been exciting right?! Except I was crying into my laptop. What a waste!
So what IS the worst that can happen? As long as I set expectations before I leave and make it clear what I will and won’t have done before I go, then can I really do any more? I am one person and I am not superhuman. I’m not indispensable either. So, the skills don’t exist right now, and I don’t believe that others will have the same vision that I have to complete this project as I see it, but in 3 weeks it isn’t my ‘thing’ anymore is it? By the time I return to work it will all be different again won’t it!
I will do my absolute best to do as much as I can to deliver right up to the day I leave. In the next 3 weeks I will lay as strong a foundation for my new team as I can in the time that I have. And then I will leave knowing that the company has had a huge amount out of me in the last 16 years. They’ve had 16 hour days and 7 day weeks. They’ve had the very best of me for a large part of my life. And if they don’t realise that, or appreciate it, then more fool them! I can’t control that.
I’ve worked solo on this latest venture since September, whilst I jumped through hoops of fire to secure the promised support. Support which comes in the form of 2 people – one of whom started last week and the other who doesn’t start until my last week in work. During the last 6 months of working alone and meeting everyone’s expectations, I’ve battled both mental and physical illness. I’ve had counselling, and have had nurses in wonder at how I’ve managed to keep standing with my iron levels as low as they had been. All this, and not a minute of work has been missed. So I think I’ve done bloody well actually! And yes, I am incredibly disappointed not to be able to finish what I started, but it’s one small ‘failure’ after a number of successes.
This is my time to embark on a new journey that doesn’t involve work. I’m going to stop beating myself up over that. It doesn’t mean I am any less passionate, dedicated or committed to the company or my vision. But I’m having a baby in about 6 weeks and that kinda throws all of the stuff about work into the background. Work, and what I did or didn’t achieve in these last few weeks, is not going to be the most important thing in my life for the next year. My family will be 😊
Apologies to any readers if you are hoping to see some joyful ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ post now that I am getting closer to D-day, because right now I feel far from joyful!
My body is saying it’s time to finish work and start preparing for the imminent arrival. But I’ve committed myself to another 3 weeks and the delivery of a big project, and there’s no getting out of it. I’ve spent all weekend trying to complete some of my work, but can’t concentrate, can’t get comfy, and keep bursting into tears of frustration (which makes it really hard to see the laptop screen!). Knowing that there is no way out without seriously damaging my reputation at work is causing me immense stress and I can only see the despair growing in the coming weeks. I feel hopeless and useless and I just want to pack it all in and hide under a blanket to wait for my baby to arrive. I keep finding myself praying that she will come early so all the stress of work, and waiting to see her arrive safe, sound and well, can be over. It is going to be a torturous 6 weeks or so, and I don’t have the strength to fight off the fear, stress, pain and fatigue. I really don’t know how I am going to get through it 😔
I absolutely hate being managed by my moods. Yesterday I was full of happiness and hope, having had a fantastic day with family and friends and being thoroughly spoilt with a mixture of material things and love. I went to bed feeling positive about next few weeks, particularly focussed on how to tackle the mountain of work I have to complete before I leave. I had it all sorted, and I couldn’t wait for today to arrive so I could crack on and make some progress.
So what happened? What changed during the twilight hours that have left me feeling bereft, drained, emotional and hopeless? Where did the focus go that would have stopped me from sitting here in my pyjamas staring at a laptop screen and praying for something to click? The emptiness I feel this morning is only temporarily quelled when the tears flow. It’s as though the tears take some of the hollow feeling with them. For a minute. Perhaps this is just an anti-climax? After all the attention and loveliness of my birthday yesterday, today feels bare in comparison? No, surely not. This is more than that.
Yesterday my old ‘friend’ Ant watched from the sidelines as I smiled and laughed my way through my milestone birthday. Growing increasingly annoyed at not being invited to join in the celebrations, she waited. She looked on silently, lurking in the shadows, whilst I took a quiet hour with me and my bump after everyone had gone to bed. When I climbed the stairs to bed, I was far too tired to notice the familiar footsteps behind me. But she was there, because she found her way into my mind as I slept and breathed her best into my dreams.
Do you ever have those dreams that are so real that you awake feeling like you have lived through it? The dreams she gave me last night were like that. I had 2 vivid dreams, although as the hours pass this morning the details are becoming more fuzzy. In one, for reasons unknown, my husband left. No explanation, no goodbyes, just disappeared. He wouldn’t answer my texts or calls, did not respond to any of the voicemails I left, despite the desperate pleas for him to contact me, to come home. Like in a movie, I could see him, so I knew he wasn’t in danger or hurt. He had just started a new life somewhere else, somewhere without me. Why? Why would he leave me like that? When I woke up I just wanted to touch him to make sure he really was still there, and to hold him and beg him not to leave me alone. As I write, fresh tears are rolling down my face. How can a dream have this effect on a person? Damn she’s good! It seems she is even more effective through the night.
There were lots of other strange details in the dream that are a bit more vague than the general message of being abandoned. I remember mud, lots of mud. And I remember an official looking man who kept letting himself into my home where he would rearrange the furniture back to how it was before we started preparing for the impending arrival. I’m trying to push those things to the back of my mind because my over-thinking analytical brain is already hinting at what those images could mean, and I can’t let those thoughts permeate, not this close to the ‘end’.
The second dream is one I’m not sure I even want to commit to paper. It feels like an omen that would dare to become reality if I were to give it my words. What I will say is that hearing my daughter jump out of bed this morning filled me with the hugest sense of relief, as I had been battling for over an hour with an overwhelming need to go into her room to check she was ok. Frozen to the spot where I laid, feeling the desire to check on her but too frightened to go in, just in case…
I thought I’d managed to put her down. Put her into a place where I could at least keep an eye on her, and keep her quiet. Her voice has certainly been muffled for a while. Why then, after having such a wonderful day did I allow her to remove the muzzle? I clearly let my guard down, and distracted by the events of the day she managed to set herself free. Well she definitely made an impression. And I can only hope that somewhere within me I can find the strength to put her back down. But I’m alone today, and being alone doesn’t usually put me in a position of strength to fight.
Well, that’s it! I made it to 40! Still can’t quite believe I am so grown up! When did that happen lol! I swear I can’t be a day over 20!
Have a fabulous day y’all 😊
bluemama 