Top Ten Tuesday - Excuses Excuses

Getting into the swing of my Top Ten Tuesdays now, got plenty of things I can write ten things about be it tips or otherwise.  This week I’m keeping it light hearted with top ten pregnancy excuses!  Pregnancy is a big excuse in itself but the top ten things I’ve used it for follow:

1.       I’m eating for two – OK so we all know that this isn’t true, you don’t eat for two and your calorie intake doesn’t need doubling when you’re pregnant but hey it’s a damn good excuse to have that cheeky desert after dinner!

2.       I need to go shopping – Not something you can get away with every day but when you’re pregnant you need to shop for clothes for yourself and your expanding waistline and for things for bubba – and if you treat yourself to a new handbag, it’s just a reward for all that waddling around the shops you’ve done!

3.       I can’t clean up - OK so medically you’re not ill but bloody hell it’s hard work carrying a baby around in your tummy, you don’t need to be on your feet any more than you have to.  Plus, loads of women get the nesting instinct in the last few weeks of pregnancy…hubby can do it ‘til then!

4.       I need a massage – Professional or a lovely back/foot rub from hubby is good.  You might not be aching but how can he argue with the woman carrying his child?!

5.       I need new shoes – I threw out most of my shoes before I got pregnant with Alfie because they’d seen better days but when my feet swelled at the end of pregnancy I got to replace a fair few pairs because the shoes I did have weren’t suitable for swollen feet.  Hello sexy sandals and cute shoe-pumps.

6.       I want to choose the film/what we watch on TV – when hubby is at work and you’re at home with bubba – you won’t have time to watch anything or you’ll be too tired to so you should get to do it before bubba arrives!  So what if you do get to watch TV whilst bubba is sleeping and you’re not tired/can’t sleep – hubby will be at work, how will he know!

7.       “Not tonight love” – Before if you weren’t in the mood for some cheeky between the sheets you’d have to feign a migraine but now you have a bump in the way – the laws of physics just won’t allow it.

8.       Let’s go out – Before bubba is born tell hubby you want to spend “quality time” together because it’ll be hard once your little one appears…it just so happens that the “quality time” is spent at the cinema watching a film of your choice followed by dinner at your favourite restaurant…

9.       Can you paint my toe nails, I can’t reach! This is a legitimate excuse; I really couldn’t reach my feet to paint my toe nails.  I didn’t need them doing but I was pregnant so hubby was putty in my hands – it only lasts for 9 months ladies make the most of it!

10.   I’m too tired to visit your mother – Best excuse ever if you’re not bothered about visiting your in laws – you’re growing a baby in there, it’s tiring work the last thing you want to do is go to your mother in laws house to hear about her latest cake creation and who’s having it off with who in the local pub.

These are just some of the excuses I used whilst I was pregnant, or at least thought about using.  Being pregnant is the most wonderful thing in the world but it can also be tiring and stressful, an excuse to get what you want now and then is innocent enough, I’m sure if men went through pregnancy and birth they’d be a LOT worse!

Pregnant? Already?

How soon is too soon to have another baby?  Is it selfish to have another baby so soon after the birth of your youngest/first born?  What factors will you consider before having another child?  These are all questions I have asked myself and if I’m honest I don’t have the answers.  A girl I know [not a friend, an acquaintance] had her baby girl March this year and is already 24 weeks pregnant expecting her second, is that too soon?  I don’t think they own a telly in their house.  My friend who had her son in April is already planning for her second baby within the next 12 months.  Yet another friend is waiting until her little one is out of nappies before she plans her second baby.  Everyone is different and circumstances count for a lot but when it comes down to it, is it personal preference, ignorance or a little bit of both?

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, discussing it on forums and talking to friends about it.  Everyone has their own opinion, some think it’s selfish to have one before the baby is at school age and some think it’s better to have children with ages closer together.  When I made the decision a few weeks ago that I’d like to have more children I never thought about when we would try I just decided that I wanted more.  Alfie is 3 months old and such a demanding baby as a first time mum I’m learning every day and making plenty of mistakes on the way.  Will it be different when baby no2 comes along?  Probably not because every baby is different it’s a person at the end of the day, just a lot smaller [and cuter].  And about that, baby no2 – I don’t like that saying.  To me, it sounds as if the second baby is second in everything and it’s not – it just arrives second that’s all.  A girl I know calls her girls princess no1 and princess no2…pretty sure that may cause upset when they’re older.  I’d have to think of another nick name…Alfie was Baby Lewis so we couldn’t use that but I certainly won’t be using baby no2 or anything of the sort.  It will be my second baby but by no means second in any other way.

I often sit and gaze at Alfie whilst he’s sleeping, playing or having cuddles with hubby and I and thought to myself how much I love him.  There’s nothing quite like a mothers love for her baby, something you can’t fully understand until you become a mother.  I love him more than anyone and anything.  That’s just it though…I love him more than anyone; does that mean I’ll love him more than our next bubba?  Will I show favouritism because Alfie was my first born or will Alfie get less of my attention because bubba is my “baby” – the youngest of the family?  In my family my brother who is the eldest gets away with murder with my mother, as does my little sister.  Me and my older sister are the “middle” children and don’t have that kind of relationship with my mum.  Is the first born, last born thing real?  I can’t imagine loving anyone as much as I love Alfie but then I guess a mothers’ love for her children is limitless and knows no bounds, right?  Right.

Oh and if you were wondering, I’m not pregnant…

Top Ten Tuesday - Before Baby Arrives

Following on from last week with my Top Ten Tuesday – BabyBuys, this week I have decided to concentrate on ten things to do whilst you’re pregnant/ before baby comes.  These are the things that I did/ wish I'd done before Alfie came:

1.       Date nights and dinners with friends.  A few hours before my waters broke, I was sat in a pub restaurant having lunch with my husband – we went out at least 3 times a week, if you can’t afford to go out a DVD and a cheeky pizza is just as good.  This is what we were doing the very moment my waters broke!  We also had lots of dinner plans with friends, we went for dinner and to see a movie on my due date!

2.       Soak in the bath for HOURS.  If you’re like me and you love a good soak in the bath, get them in while you can because they will be few and far between these luscious soaks in the tub!  You get to have time to bathe when you have a baby but usually it’s short or with baby.

3.       Buy yourself something nice – not something you need, it has to be something you WANT that isn’t baby or pregnancy related.  It will be a long time before you treat yourself after baby arrives, you’ll find your clothes interest shifts to baby clothes etc!

4.       Read a book if you love to read because when baby is here, you’ll spend your spare time doing everything you don’t enjoy.  If you’re not a book worm, watch a few DVD’s get your feet up and enjoy a good weepy, apparently good for bringing on labour (old wives tale!)

5.       Dress up.  I’m not talking fancy dress, although if that’s what floats your boat do it!  I wanted to be heavily pregnant at Halloween so I could paint my bump up as a pumpkin!  Seriously though, go out and get dolled up because for the next few months and even years your clothes will be covered in baby sick/poo/wee/milk/food/spit.  Dressing up also makes you feel good about yourself so do it yummy mummy J

6.       Pregnancy massage – I can’t recommend this enough!  Whether you suffer with a bad back or not it’s fabulous for helping you to relax.  Pregnancy massage is safe from 12weeks + by a trained professional – some essential oils aren’t suitable during pregnancy but if you go to a reputable beauty spa that offers pre/post natal massage they will advise accordingly.

7.       Cook meals and freeze them in advance – I wish I’d taken this advice myself because for the first few weeks of Alfie’s life we lived on takeaways, not great especially if you’re breastfeeding.  Make up big batches of meals that can be frozen and it’s a life saver for a quick meal because you need to keep your strength up mummy!

8.       Have a heart to heart with your partner.  Pregnancy can be stressful on relationships but having a new baby to look after can put even more strain on a relationship.  Work out how you plan on getting time together, tell each other how you feel, let each other know that if things get tough you’re going through it together.  This was a life saver for me and my hubby as I knew I’d be irate at times if I was tired.

9.       Have a baby shower/ get together with friends baby related – I wish I’d done this because it’s something nice for you to enjoy with friends before baby comes that gets you and them even more excited for your new arrival.  Friends can often become a little distant after you have a baby especially if they don’t have them themselves because they can’t relate/you don’t have time etc…spending time with friends now especially at a baby shower helps them realise they are still important to you and your baby.  It also helps friends feel involved.

10.   Blog it!  Do it how I have or in a personal diary but either way I really recommend blogging from pregnancy.  Writing things down helps you work your thoughts out, it helps you get things off your chest and it records all those magical and not so magical moments for you to tell baby when he/she is here.  I also started a personal diary for Alfie that’s handwritten.

Where babies come from...



R as flower girl on our wedding day

After my x-ray appointment this afternoon, we decided to visit hubby’s mum.  We arrived and Alfie was sleeping peacefully, cue four year old R [niece] and therefore cue Alfie’s tears.  She seems to have that not so magic touch in not only waking him up but making him cry.  R is an over excitable four years old, possibly due to a combination her excessive sweet consumption, late bedtimes and the ability to wrap her parent’s around her little finger.  She is an extremely adorable curly haired, red headed little girl that looks like butter wouldn’t melt – until she opens her mouth that is!  R always gets very excited when she sees Alfie, so excited she gets her she’s/he’s mixed up and poor Alfie often gets referred to as a girl [she]!  It’s lovely that she is excited to see him but she gets in his face a lot and often makes him cry by being too boisterous and loud.  Today she wanted to feed Alfie but he’s had tummy ache all day and hasn’t been in a great mood not to mention he weighs almost as much as we do so we said no, according to R this meant no one loved her.  We assured her we do but she insisted we didn’t!  Annoying but very adorable.

We changed the subject quite swiftly before R felt the need to attention seek more.  She’s cute but sometimes very annoying.  The subject somehow turned around to having babies, where they came from and all that malarkey.  A funny old subject when discussing this with a four year old, especially one who is quite forward.  Hubby’s older sister thought it appropriate to tell R that babies come out of ladies “fluffies” to which R replied, “No they don’t! They come out of their tummy!”  She went on to explain babies get out of their mummy’s tummy by squeezing daddy’s hand tightly.  If you haven’t given birth before, I can assure you this isn’t how babies get out of your tummy, unfortunately.   Alan’s mother quite inappropriately asked R if babies get pumped into mummy’s tummy by daddy.  I couldn’t believe she said this!  R quickly responded with a “No they don’t” and advised us all that babies get in mummy’s tummy by “magic” – this has some truth to it, depending on if you’re speaking to the man or the woman ;-)

Aren’t kids funny?

Alfie Paul Lewis born 30.05.2011 at 02:37am weighing 8lb 8oz

This is my second attempt at my labour and birth blog considering I lost my first one! This time, I’m being smart and writing it on word first. I do hope I remember all the details I wrote in the first one, after all it was a month ago…though somehow I don’t think I will ever forget it. Not even the smallest of details. It was the best day of my life by far (closely followed by our wedding day…) so, sit back and relax with a brew because I have a feeling it’s going to be a long one!

Saturday 28th May:
A week after I was due and still no sign of baby Lewis…or rather there were plenty of “signs” including regular contractions but things just weren’t getting anywhere. I was scheduled for my second sweep, the midwife on duty called to check I hadn’t had my baby before she arranged to come round. She came at lunch time and did the sweep. She gave me a “good going over” – her words, not mine! She said I was favourable to go into labour because my cervix was soft and 1-2cm dilated. I’d heard this before so I had to ignore it for fear of getting my hopes up, though I must admit I got them up a little. If the sweep didn’t work, I was to be induced the following Thursday. Induction wasn’t what Alan or I wanted but if needs must, we’d go through with it. The whole of Saturday every twinge I felt, I was hoping it was labour…it wasn’t.

Sunday 29th May 2011:
I got up and felt a little “wet” down below (sorry TMI) I went to the toilet and it appeard I’d lost my plug. This is normal after a sweep and doesn’t mean labour is on it’s way so I just put a pad on and let it go to the back of my mind. Kind of. It was a typical Sunday for Alan and I, we went out for a late lunch to the Bluebell, Manvers as we usually did on a Sunday because neither of us could be bothered to cook – especially me at 41 weeks pregnant. I had my usual, chicken dinner with all the trimmings. We talked a lot about baby Lewis and how we couldn’t wait for him to be here. I was uncomfortable the whole morning and at lunch I was uncomfortable still – nothing new to me though and at 41 weeks pregnant it’s to be expected. I must admit, I felt different. I’m not sure how, but I did.

On the drive home, we were at the roundabout just coming out of the pub when I said to Alan, “I think I’m going to have this baby today or at least soon.” He shrugged my comment off, I’d said this before from being 28 weeks and he was right, I’d felt this before so it was probably a false alarm like all the other times. The contractions weren’t regular enough to call the hospital and they weren’t painful just uncomfortable. We got home and decided we’d watch a film from Sky Box Office and order a take away, being induced on Thursday this would be our last chance for a while. The take away come, I had a Toscana pizza. We chilled out and put the film on; you’ll have to excuse me though because I can’t for the life of me remember the name of the film. It was set in Glasgow and that’s all I know.

At 21:36pm I felt and heard a big POP then I was wet through. The weirdest sensation I have ever felt in my entire life. “Oh FUCK,” I said to Alan. He looked at me funny and asked what was wrong. I told him my waters had gone to which he replied “Oh. Shall I get dressed then?” Numpty!!! I went upstairs to change my underwear and trousers and text/messaged all the people I wanted to know. Keira and Jayne were the first two people to find out apart from Alan, obviously. I called the hospital and they asked me to wait at least 30 mins before going in because they were busy!!! I was warned the contractions could start coming more regular and stronger. I waited 10 before deciding to go up. The contractions were starting to hurt.

By the time we got to hospital, I was puffing and panting and in a fair whack of pain. As it was after 10pm that we arrived at hospital, we had to go through A&E. The nurse who let us through asked if I needed a wheel chair – I said I’d be fine walking. In hindsight I wish I’d accepted the wheelchair. We got up to the ward and there was already a couple waiting to be let in. We waited almost 20 mins or what felt like a lifetime to me before we were let in. We were shown to a room and left. When a midwife eventually came to see us, she checked me over. I was 1cm dilated – not in labour and my waters HADN’T gone, it was my hind waters (waters behind baby)…my actual waters were intact. Gutted was not the word. I had two choices: stay at hospital to see how things progressed and go home if no change after 2hours or go home. The midwife recommended I stay. There was no way I was going home, even if they sent me – I’d have chained myself to the bed.

We were shown to an empty 6 bed room on the ward so that Alan could stay with me. I was laid on the bed in sheer agony and begged for some pain killers. The midwife came back with paracetamol and codeine. I could have cried. No way was that going to even tickle the pain I was in. Fuck me did it hurt. I was puffing and panting and telling Alan I wasn’t sure I could do this. I wasn’t quite up to One Born Every Minute standard though. All of a sudden…POP! GUSH! SPLASH! Yes, in that order. My waters went and not only flooded my trousers and the bed but the floor as well. I rang for the midwife. A healthcare assistant came and I half talked half cried when I told her my waters had gone and I NEEDED more pain relief. She went and got the midwife.

Another life time seemed to pass by before the midwife arrived at my bedside and I was told to get changed into a nighty and get on the bed ready for inspection. Getting undressed and dressed was difficult and very undignified. Alan had to help me with everything. Puffing and panting and telling Alan yet again I couldn’t do it, I got on the bed. It was sheer agony. I spread my legs before the midwife even had chance to tell me to – I was that eager for her to check my cervix. I was 4-5cm dilated. The midwife looked at me and smiled. “Bloody hell, that was quick! We better get you to labour suite because your baby is on his way” THANK FUCK FOR THAT. The end was near, right?

I was made to WALK to the labour ward, I think I stopped about 50 times when a contraction came to puff and pant like a prostitute. I think I may have groaned a few times too. Being female, you can’t have any dignity. Guess how long it took me to get to the room I was assigned to give birth in? You guessed it…A LIFE TIME!!! I asked for an epidural. The midwife told us that the doctors were in theatre delivering a baby so I’d have to wait but assured me they wouldn’t be long. I got on the bed and was checked over. My blood pressure was sky high so both baby and I had to be monitored continuously. Baby was fine. I wasn’t so fine. I kept asking how long the doctors would be. Let me assure you, labour is fucking HARD work. Women deserve a hell of a lot more credit than they get for this! I was crying and panting and puffing and telling Alan I couldn’t do it – this time I was getting close to the One Born Every Minute standards…OK I wasn’t but I could certainly sympathise with the women on it now.

I was really struggling with the pain. I couldn’t talk to Alan who was by my side holding my hand and reassuring me without actually saying or doing anything. We talked in dribs and drabs when I could. God it was hard work. Then…FUCK!!! I could feel my body needing to push. It was intense and hard to work through. “Alan, press the buzzer I need to push,” I panted. I’ve never seen my husband move so fast. A midwife came sauntering in. It wasn’t Kate, the midwife who was looking after me. I told her I felt ready to push. She checked me over then went to get Kate. They must not have communicated because when Kate arrived in my room I had to tell her I needed to push.

“No, you don’t need to push it’s too soon. I’ll check you anyway so we can see how far dilated you are and how long you have to go. The doctors are still in theatre I’m afraid,” Kate said to me. Once again my legs were wide open before she even had to say the words. I reckon I was quicker than a prostitute on a million dollar job. I will never in my life forget Kate the midwifes face when she checked me over. I was indeed 10cm dilated and ready to push. She was shocked. It had happened quickly. There was no time for an epidural or any other pain relief. I was given gas and air and was allowed to use it for 5 mins but then I was told I couldn’t use it because it’d make me too sleepy to push. Friggin’ great stuff. It felt like torture. To be fair though, I only just had the energy to push never mind suck on a pipe full of laughing gas. And I was in no mood for laughing.

Monday 30th May (early hours):
I remembered when Ellie had William and she was pushing for 20 minutes and he was here. I could cope with 20 minutes I thought…JUST. I began to watch the clock while I was pushing. Kate was offering words of encouragement. “Come one”…”Another push”…”Keep going”…”You’re doing great”…are just a few. Every time I had a contraction, Alan grabbed my hand and I squeezed hard. I’m surprised I didn’t shout any abuse at him. You know, something along the lines of “You bastard! This is your fault! Keep your fucking penis away from me from now on! I hate you.” Not only did I not have the energy to shout abuse at him, I didn’t have the urge to. Yes it was agony but I was happy, although I wouldn’t have admitted it at the time.

Pushing laid on my back wasn’t working. Time to try a new position. I was directed by Kate to kneel up with my arms over the head of the bed sort of on all fours if you like. This just wasn’t pretty although it was much more comfortable. Baby was laid back to back so laying on MY back would put more pressure on it and it would hurt more. I pushed and pushed as much as my body would let me. I had been pushing for over an hour. The midwife called the doctor and they told me it was time to intervene. My blood pressure was still sky high and they didn’t want baby to get into distress or me get too exhausted to continue. They were going to use the suction cup.

I had read about ventouse (suction cup/kiwi) deliveries in magazines, on blogs and in forums. No one had a pleasant thing to say about them. Everyone had, had a bad experience. Needless to say I was terrified. There were now two doctors and two midwifes. My legs were put into stirrups – this was painfully painful and painfully undignified but I didn’t care. I was given the gas and air whilst the doctor cut me *down there* (it’s called an episiotomy) but it was soon taken off of me once I had been cut and injected with anaesthetic. None of this made a blind bit of difference to the pain I was in. I was now telling the doctors, midwifes and Alan I couldn’t do this. The suction cup was inserted and I was surprised and pleased that it didn’t hurt. It probably would under normal circumstances but the contractions were controlling me completely.

The doctor explained the suction was attached to my baby’s head and I had to do all the work but when I pushed they would pull. They also explained my baby’s head could come out slightly misshapen from the suction. I already knew this. I’d been reading about labour and birth for weeks and I covered all circumstances. So the pushing commenced again. “Push push push push” and “Come one, one more” and “1…2….3…” were all I heard. I was saying I couldn’t do it. They were all saying I could. I gathered all my energy. I wanted to meet my baby. I wanted to cuddle and kiss him and tell him how much I loved him. I pushed like they told me to, on cue and everything. Eventually, I heard “we have a head,” and I was relieved. Then I was told to hang on and not to push until directed because the cord was around my baby’s neck. You can imagine the things that went through my mind – you hear horror stories about these things. My heart sank and I was about to cry when the doctor told me not to worry baby was now untangled and I could push with the next contraction. Relieved was not the half of it.

I pushed and pushed then POP! SPLASH! And all of a sudden there was a baby on my chest. My boy was here! The doctor said no wonder I was struggling to get him out, there was MORE water blocking him from coming out. The water came out with my baby and drenched the doctor. I was slightly pleased at this after all, the bastard made me do all the work without pain relief. My baby didn’t cry but he was awake and alert and appeared healthy. When Alan and I discussed this moment from when we found out I was pregnant we both agreed we wanted baby cleaning completely before he was handed to me because I’m quite squeamish. All that went out of the window and I didn’t even notice the blood and guts covering my son. He looked just perfect to me. He was wrapped up and passed to Alan, or “daddy” as the midwife called him. Wow that was strange to hear. It was even stranger when they said “…while we stitch mummy up.” OH. MY. GOD. I’m a mummy!

Now I was given the gas and air whilst the doctor stitched me up. Bloody typical or what! I was exhausted so I didn’t notice the pain much but I sucked the gas and air anyway. I felt I was owed at least SOME pain relief even if it was too late for the worst part. It felt like forever and a day when they were stitching me up. I just wanted to cuddle my baby. I was finally finished and the midwife asked how I wanted to feed baby. Breast obviously, it’s been drilled into society for chuff knows how long that “breast is best” (there will be another blog about this, shortly). Baby was placed on my chest and he latched on instantly. It wasn’t painful or weird. It felt right and natural. The midwife said, “That’s perfect. You two were made for each other.” I welled up at hearing this. I was the proudest mummy on earth.

After his feed, the midwife asked what we were going to call him so she could sort out a tag for him. Alan and I looked at each other and both said, Alfie was the right name. We did have others we liked and agreed on but couldn’t decide on. When we looked at him we just knew he was Alfie. Kate weighed him and gave him his vitamin K injection. She then went to get his tag and then dressed him for us. A bath was run for me and Alfie was given to Alan whilst I got myself sorted.
I was in the bath and felt faint so rang for the midwife. She got Alan to help her help get me out of the bath safely. I remember asking where Alfie was. He was in the crib, in my labour room. I got out and the bath was filled with blood. Alan helped me to get dressed. The midwife came back and at this point I passed out. Alan later told me a wheelchair got me to my bed and I was put on a drip whilst I slept. They put it down to exhaustion. It wasn’t until the next day on the ward that I was told I’d lost a lot of blood and needed a blood transfusion. That’s why I passed out. Alfie and I stayed in hospital for 3 days whilst I was treated. He was perfect. Just perfect.

So, there you have it: my labour of love.
Alfie Paul Lewis born 30.05.2011 at 02:37am weighing 8lb 8oz.
Perfect.

So, here’s to a life time of happiness with my new little family as a mummy and a wife. I couldn’t be happier. The blog posts that follow this will be all about my life as a mummy and a wife. I’m much more than that but they are the most important things I am and I’m proud of it.