Due Date: 04/21/2009
Week: 31+6 days
Month: 8
Trimester: 3
Fetus Age: 30 weeks
Time to Go: 56 days
Size: Smaller than my car
Time til Growth Scan: 24 days

I have no idea what this post will achieve. I suspect most of the people I need to read this post won’t ever read it. But recent events have made me feel like I should justify why we have a Nanny, and clarify SPD.

So let’s talk SPD, because that pretty much clears up everything.

SPD (Symphisis Pubis Dysfunction) is fucking awful. I’m not saying it just because I have it, I’m saying it because it plain, straight out, fucking sucks. I’ve known three other people who have had it, and I’m hoping they’re reading this and will leave a comment at the end. They don’t have to say who they are, and they can be anonymous. I don’t care, but I need to know that someone else out there understands.

If there’s one thing I’m tired of, it’s people making no effort to try to understand what it’s like. People don’t even understand why I’m struggling to even get out of the house. Maybe I’m not as strong as those people. Maybe I don’t have as much stamina. Maybe, sometimes when I try to stand up and walk, and can’t because my pelvis buckles and I fall to the floor, and I end up crawling across the floor in tears from the sheer fucking agony that absolutely cripples me, shows that I’m a punk-ass bitch when it comes to pain, and am just not cut out for this.

But you know what hurts the most that a lot of people will never understand? Is how this affects Noah. Or how it affects me with Noah.

I know those three friends of mine, if they’re reading this, may see where I’m going.

I’m told not to lift heavy weights. I’m told to rest as much as possible. I’m warned that the more I exert myself now, the more long term damage could be caused and the longer the healing process after T.O.O. is born. So to tell me that I should just “overcome” picking up Noah, is a little bit of a slap in the face, and it pisses me right off.

When I’m faced with my gorgeous, loving, happy little boy who just wants to be picked up and have a cuddle from his mum, in the back of my mind I wonder how much damage I’m causing to myself. Call me selfish? Go ahead. I fucking dare you.

But I have to think about my well-being, because without my well-being, my children WILL. SUFFER. Depression has already stolen several months of normality away from me. I’m not about to let SPD do that too.

Do you know how much it can wrench at your heart when your kid peers up at you or come flops himself on your lap and wants to be picked up and you can’t freaking do it? Not because you don’t want to, but simply because you just can’t do it? Not having the strength to move your position slightly to accommodate your kid?

So now you’re thinking “well you knew it wasn’t going to be easy having two kids, or even being pregnant with a kid under one. so what are you whining for?”. That’s the fucking point. I whine because I’m suffering the shitty pain of trying to look after my boy. Of course I knew it wouldn’t be easy, I’m not some kind of dip-shit.

But you know what? Don’t insult me. Don’t patronise me. Don’t underestimate me. I’m trying my fucking hardest to make sure that Noah has the best upbringing possible, and I’m doing it in every way that is possible to me at this time. Just because other people do things that I can’t right now, does not make me any less of a mother to my boy, or to my unborn child.

And also, to those people who like to pass judgement on my situation, perhaps they should take a look at their own lives and children, before they bring their holier-than-thou opinion to my doorstep.

We have a Nanny (who starts tomorrow, and screw you, I am so fucking pleased) to help us ALL out. To help me with Noah, around the house and when T.O.O. comes along and D is busy working his ass off to make sure we’re all ok. To help Noah stay happy, to see to his needs that I can’t meet at this time, and to make sure that he doesn’t ever have to go without. She is coming to help SUPPORT us all.

I know everyone has an opinion. I also know that not everyone understands what the hell I’ve just gone on about. Some may not understand where I’m coming from. If you’d like to put forth your opinion, then seriously, please do. I always read comments, and though I may not always respond, I will never delete them and always appreciate them, good or bad.

But what I would appreciate right now, more than anything, is your support and an attempt at understanding. Because this is hard enough already.

D just left for Cuba. He comes back next week Thursday, 26th.

Until then, it’s just me, Noah and a Nanny.

…

I’m terrified.

Due Date: 04/21/2009
Week: 30+6 days
Month: 8
Trimester: 3
Fetus Age: 29 weeks
Time to Go: 63 days
Size: Longer than my phone
Time til Growth Scan: 31 days

Continuing from where we left off, I finally made it home on Saturday night after some 28 hours of hell. I. Do. NOT. Like. Hospitals. When will people understand this? I’m hoping real soon, before things get really unpleasant, you know?

Needless to say I didn’t sleep thursday night; I had a chorus of snores all around me, and a woman opposite me was in active labour for most of the night. Lovely! At one point I went across to offer some help (I haven’t got a clue what I was going to do, but at least it would put my conscience to rest a little…). She wasn’t calling for the midwives, and was pacing up and down making a LOT of noise. I’m not sure why she didn’t ask for any help…but you know, each to their own.

She declined all help (again, I still didn’t know what the hell I could do) and finally the midwives took her to delivery after about 1am. That was er, slightly uncomfortable to listen to.

But hey! That’s ok, because that meant I could go back to listening to the women on either side of me happily snoring away. Even better when the morning came and they both claimed they hadn’t got ANY sleep at all (YOU LIIIEEEE!!!!).

Most importantly that morning, I still wasn’t spotting. I had clearly stopped, and was no longer worried, and had been told previously that if all was clear, I could go home at around lunchtime!

Awesome!

What a stupid naieve whore am I!!

I should have seen that things were taking a downward spiral when the first time anyone of the medical profession (Hah!! “Profession”… that’s funny…) approached me was not until lunchtime. Not good. And that was lunchtime when they decided to serve me this.

Can you guess what it is? Granted, it had to sit there for 5 minutes while they tried to take blood AGAIN and failed AGAIN, so you know, it might, just might look a little unappetising.

Allow me to indulge you a better picture.

That, good people, is NHS food, and this particular tasty platter is mashed potato (left), peas (top) and cod in parsley sauce (right). I tell you where they are in case that was a little difficult to work out. I pride myself in being able to eat the mash and some of the peas, along with two mouthfuls of fish, and surviving. I would possibly have eaten more fish, but I got scared that my teeth would just crack and break trying to break down the fish.

Don’t you just love that yellow tinge to the mash which tells you it’s been sitting around for a while?

Mmmmmm!!!!! Yummy!!

The blood thing was infuriating me now. I was getting serously pissed with the same conversation over and over.

MW#n: Ok let’s have another go! Which arm is best?

Me: The one that isn’t full of holes.

MW#x: Hah hah! That’s really funny! So they’ve tried before have they? Oh poor you! Right! Let’s see what we can get!

Me: …

MW#a: Well you know if you weren’t so scared of giving blood it might be a bit -

Me: I HAVE NO PROBLEM GIVING BLOOD, I’VE DONE IT A MILLION TIMES IN BOTH PREGNANCIES AND NEVER! HAD! AN! ISSUE!

*stab*

MW#b: Oh! Er…ok, um, that’s not working, I’ll go get someone else to have a go…

*scurries away*

I picked at the crap on my plate and washed it down with this.

Seriously, everything is soooooooo appetising.

These people clearly didn’t take the hint, because every time they asked me if I was ok and had there been any more spotting/bleeding, they would then hook me up to a monitor (seriously? You’re gonna strap me down to a bed? Again?? That’s gotta be for your safety, not mine, right?) trying to get T.O.O.’s heart rate which was near impossible. It doesn’t ever keep still. It’s been moving the whole time I’ve been typing. I freak out if it stops moving for more than 5 minutes because that just NEVER happens. So she got 20 minutes trace. Announced it must, must be half an hour and proceeded to mash my belly with the doppler for 15 minutes. I got nervous when her hand started trembling because she was mashing so hard trying to keep up with the baby. Then announced that actually, 20 minutes would be enough.

What’s the matter? Giving up, huh? Can’t cope with the fun and games?

2 hours later, GUESS WHAT??!

MW Cocky-Biatch: Right! Time to take some bloods!

Me: No.

MW C-B: Ok! Which arm is best?

Me: Someone else’s.

MW C-B: Ahw! ..Oh! I see a few people have already had a go…what’s wrong with your veins?

Me: *snarling* Nothing.

*putting on the band and slapping my arm *
MW C-B: Oh yes! Look at that, there’s a lovely vein right there in your wrist. Sharp scratch!

Me: OW!! (She’s sticking the needle in less than an inch from where someone else had already tried that day)

MW C-B: Hmmm…ok hold still, it’s coming, but it’s really slow so I’m just gonna jiggle it around a bit.

Me: OWWW!!! WHAT THE FUCK??

MW C-B: Blimey if you think this hurts, wait til you go into labour!

Me (gripping D’s hand in a vice-like grip): This is my SECOND child, I’ve already delivered an ELEVEN POUND* baby WITHOUT DRUGS and I would sooner do THAT AGAIN than have you jiggle a needle in my damn arm!! Labour was PISS EASY compared to this crap!

MW C-B: …ohhhh…umm…ok it’s coming I’m just going to fill up one bottle then leave you alone; we’re supposed to get two -

Me: *a look that would melt daggers*

MW C-B: – but let’s just get the one and leave it at that! Ahw you poor thing you must be so tired!! I’ll leave you alone now, get some rest.

As I sit here now, I wonder to myself how I didn’t eat her head straight off her shoulders right there.

They finally discharged me at 6pm, after saying since there hadn’t been any spotting for 24hours I could go. This was at the same time as the woman in the cubicle next to me, 25 wks pregnant, and spotting for three days. She’d been bleeding that morning (she announced loudly on her phone on the ward) and yet she was till being allowed home. Uhm, wtf?

Thankfully the weekend was great, even though I still didn’t make it down to Devon (I’ve given up on that one, I suspect I may have rammed people off the road if I was allowed on the motorway in that state). The swelling on my left arm (from the “wrist jiggling” stabbing) is almost completely gone.

Noah has been fantastic. We picked him up from his grandparents on Friday night and for the first time ever he gave me a huge hug and went to kiss me. I think I actually melted and crumbled, Christ I was so happy. He’s advancing rapidly in his swimming lessons (trying to splash into the pool on his own now, and completely unphased underwater!).

This morning was interesting, when I got out of bed at 7:55am and he came to greet me at the bedroom door, burpee in one hand, soother in the other, and one in his mouth. Yes, at 7:45 there was a thump but no crying at all, and then more clicking of his soother against his cot. I assumed he’d just fallen over and was just entertaining himself again. Nope.

He’d climbed out of his cot. And hit the floor. With no damage what-so-ever. Then for 10 minutes, not done anything but wait til he heard me get up. It’s safe to say I very nearly shat myself when I heard his door open and saw him walk down the hallway, happy as Larry. Not a single scratch or bruise.

Yesterday my Legend-For-A-Husband booked me in last minute for another Mama Mio Spa Treatment at the Elms Hotel – Full body massage, facial moisture boost, swim in the pool and full lunch with unlimited drinks. All to myself, no interruptions. *bliss*

This morning, thanks the to the super lovely , a package from Hotel Chocolat arrived and contained some of the nest stuff EVAH.

Obviously I opened it straight away. Cos you know, chocolate.

And ooooooohhhhhhh YUM.

Many thanks to Twitter friends (, marvlove, , youngmomma , , Ollie_Miles, , , , , , ImFusspot and anyone else I missed!), FaceBook friends and anyone else online for helping me stay sane this weekend…

* I know it’s meant to be A Thousand and One Nights, but a) I don’t have that many nights and b) I couldn’t think of anything else.

Due Date: 04/21/2009
Week: 30+2 days
Month: 8
Trimester: 3
Fetus Age: 28 weeks
Time to Go: Dunno. Someone go check for me. I’m too scared to look.
Size: About this long.

Guess where I am. Bet you can’t guess.

Here’s a clue, it’s my favourite place EVAH. *sarcasm*

Another clue? Ok, I so want to have all my babies in THIS PLACE.

One more clue? Hmmm..ok my arms are bleeding from being stabbed with needles of varying sizes.

Give up?

…

I’m in hospital. And I’m not even in the luxury of a delivery suite. Nooooooo no! I’m on the labour ward, because last night I had major Braxton Hicks for an hour, and then spotting this morning. What’s really bizarre is that I wasn’t freaking out, and called the midwives this morning just to let them know what was going on. There was no answer so left a message.

Then I got sick of being housebound (I haven’t driven for a week) and decided to go to the shops with Noah for a little bit. Thick ice everywhere, car wouldn’t start, battery dead. Which meant I had to call the AA. And you all KNOW how I feel about the Minions of the AA.

*phone rings*

Man: Hello, Miss L? Yeah I’m from the AA, trying to find your house but I don’t know where you are and I don’t know where I’m going. What’s your postcode again?

Me: Uh…what the fuck?

So that was a GREAT start to this morning. I was due to go to physio at 3pm, and by lunchtime, even though there hadn’t been anymore spotting, I hadn’t heard back from the midwives. So being sensible (cos sometimes I am, ya know), I called Labour & Delivery at about 2pm, when D came home to look after Noah.

L&D: Yeah…nah forget physio, you’d better come in.

Me: *debating protesting* Uh ok…will I still get physio?

L&D: Nah, sort out childcare and come straight to L&D.

Me: Oh goodies.

And so the day continued. They hooked me up to a monitor (grievance #1), gave me an internal (grievance #2) and then tried to get a line in (grievance #3). Notice I say “tried”. Yes, I have a nice selection of holes in my arms and hands where they tried to get a line in. No joy. So they tried to take bloods instead. STILL no joy. I have 3 holes in my arms and one in each hand. And they’re coming back for more.

Hooray!!!

So it’s now 10pm, D has gone home to look after Noah (both of whom I miss like crazy), I’m sat in the labour suite with plasters and bandages all over my arms (their choice, not mine), wondering what the night is going to be like.

Admittedly I’m not so worried at this stage, I’m more concerned about getting some rest (since we all also know about my love of hospitals). They don’t *really* know what caused the spotting, and there hasn’t been any more since lunchtime. But they want to keep me in for observation.

And now some woman has just walked up to me and said “menu gone?” and then unplugged my laptop. I may not be happy by the morning.