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Bribes, tantrums and cuddles.

When you wake up in the morning you have a decision to make. Do I do my hair and makeup so I actually look like a functioning woman who has her shit together, or do I leave it for the hundred other jobs I have to do today?
The latter usually wins out in my case.

We went for a walk yesterday and when we got back, I looked in the mirror. My ponytail had bits coming out everywhere from where George had pulled it out. I had baby sick all down one shoulder from an earlier burping incident and on closer inspection, the seat of my jeans had some yellowy stain on it. I’m assuming/hoping banana. Marc let me go out this. This is the norm for me now so he didn’t think anything of it. I’m glad I barely know anyone here. Jeeze.

So yes, every morning I have the option of getting up that little bit earlier whilst they’re all asleep so I can perfect my eyebrow arch, or sleep a bit longer and wake up in a panic to one child screaming and about to wake the other up, throwing on husbands joggers to find I have them on backwards but THERE IS NO TIME to put them on the right way and grabbing any top that’s nearby – usually covered in sick, snot, or dribble – or if you’re super unlucky, a combination of all three.

Today is one of the looking like a crazy person days. I’m praying one of them has a nap before the delivery man comes today so I can at least cover the dark pits underneath my eyes.

George just coughed sick INTO my mouth. My life ladies and gentlemen.

George is 5 months on Sunday. WTAF. He’s supposed to be my baby forever. How has this happened?
He’s so different to E as a baby. He doesn’t sit up (very well) yet or have any teeth but he loves grabbing things with his hands and playing with his feet. E didn’t use her hands till food was put in front of her. Priorities.
He’s a super chilled baby although he’s decided he likes to be held for the majority of the time. Who can blame him. I’d like to be carried around all the time if I could. My sling has been a Godsend but he’s getting a bit heavy for it now.
G is a proper little porker. He keeps flitting between the 75th and 91st percentile. I’m having to express twice a day so that I can give him a full bottle at bed time as well as a boob feed. Seriously. I hope this isn’t a sign of things to come or we’ll have to take out a loan just to feed him.
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Elizabeth, oh E, my little diva child. She is becoming more and more independent, if that’s even possible. I am not looking forward to the teenage years. For all her tantrums and strops, she’s actually been a little sweetie pie. She put all her toys away yesterday without being asked. It’ll probably never ever happen again. She’s been giving G man lots of hugs and kisses too which is lovely. Actually been mega impressed with her this week, we tried mackerel and calamari for the first time  – loved it! She did get extremely upset with me though when we ran out of fruit…..she kept listing them. “melon? apple? banana? ” at least she’s crying because it’s fruit and not over chocolate. The crying has taken on a new level though. Louder and shriller. I’m not sure if this is a result of M being away Monday to Friday or just a progression of the terrible twos.

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We had our first solo outing today! Only to Homebase to get some flowers to plant in the garden, but I’m counting it as a major achievement. Especially since I had to have E out of the pram and walking freely. It could have been a disaster. She could have decided to play hide and seek in the shop or just plain run off like she normally does but I was prepared. My secret weapon? Chocolate. Yes, I was one of those “I’m never going to bribe my child” childless women. Now I understand. You do not reason with a two year old. You can play to their good side, until they get tired, then BAM. Game over. The chocolate bribes come out and man do they work. I had to really stretch them out (because I’d already eaten the rest) but she was fab and was even happy enough to carry some pots for me.
When at the till, did she shout “CHOCOLATE” at me? Yes. Did I care that I was getting disapproving looks from the obviously childless people in the queue in front of me? Nope. I’d had a successful trip with two kiddies on my own. Nothing was bringing me down.

Anyway. It has taken me 10 hours, 2 cups of tea, a can of Pepsi , a bowl of ice cream (my lunch), two clothes changes and a short nap to write this. Hopefully it’ll be a bit quicker next time!

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Labour.

Well, shortly after my last post, I decided to phone the labour ward at 7.30AM

Whilst I was talking to the midwife on the phone – who kept saying “I don’t want to put you off coming in but…” – my cramps started to go from being every 20 mins to very frequently, and getting steadily more painful. I explained that I was already 5cm dilated and that I had a family history of fast labour.
Despite this, the midwife stated that as this was my first baby, this probably wouldn’t be the case for me and that I was unlikely to be 5cm dilated already.
She told me to have breakfast, give it a while, then go in.

I ignored this, woke Marc up and went straight in. THANK GOD.

By the time we got there, (8.30AM) I was having extremely painful contractions every 2 mins lasting about 30 seconds long. Marc parked the car and firstly decided he was in a bad parking spot and wanted to repark!!. He then walked to get a parking ticket. WALKED.
Marc – I apologise for shouting at you at this stage but when I say “RUN” and I feel like I’m being ripped apart, I need you to run!

It was horendous. I burst into the labour ward and was almost crippled onto the floor. The midwife I had spoken to on the phone then just said “oh, I think we better examine you straight away!”

Was I 5cm dilated? No. I was not. I was FULLY FREAKING DILATED.

The midwife ran off to get the birthing pool ready for me, meanwhile giving me gas and air, and within 20 mins of getting to the hospital I was in the pool. The instant relief on my back was amazing. I actually felt like a sudden weight had been lifted. I went from stabbing back pain to pain free with just emursing myself in the water. This relief however, did not last long. The gas and air I found just made me feel extremely sick, so that got ignored. The contractions started to get more and more intense and at one stage I could feel a panic attack coming on so had to work to stop that which was handy as it made me control my breathing more.

I’m not going to lie, I did scream (although Marc assures me that I only screamed twice) and I found the entire experience horrendous.

Within the first 10 mins of being in the pool, I remember shouting things like;

  • I WANT A C SECTION!
  • WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?
  • I DONT WANT TO DO THIS!
  • WHY DO PEOPLE DO THIS?
  • HOW DO PEOPLE DO THIS?
  • I NEED IT TO STOP!
  • I NEED DRUGS!

Being told “you can do this! You’re doing it now! The pain will stop!” however well meaning, does NOTHING for you when you’re in that much pain. Nothing.

After this 10 mins the midwife told me I needed to stand up so she could listen to the babies heartbeat – the waterproof contraption to do this was not working so I had to be dry. Every minute I was getting a contraction and she wanted me to stand up. Seriously.
I managed about 10 seconds for the midwife to determine baby was okay before I needed to get back in for the next contraction.

The midwife then disappeared. I have no idea why – during my 30 seconds of none contraction pain, I felt like I was drunk, and couldn’t focus on anything. I do however know that 10 seconds later….. “MARC, I NEED TO PUSH. PRESS THE CALL BELL. NOW!

Funny thing about the initial pushing stage was, yes it hurt, but the worst pain was my back. I started crying because my back was in agony and there was absolutely nothing I could do – other than get the baby out – to make it stop.
I started begging the midwife to break my waters because I could feel them bulging out – and she kept saying that a lot of the pressure was probably because they were still intact. Eventually after about 5 mins, she decided to break them.
“Do you feel any relief now?”
“NO?!!!”
I felt like she’d lied to me and I was heartbroken. There was no pressure relief at all! I felt a pop, but nothing else. I cried again.

I was at this point told I would have to get out of the water. The baby had pooped and so it was no longer safe for me to give birth in there.

I got out in between contractions, went over to the bed, felt a contraction coming on and dropped to my knees. I did feel slightly better getting out as the pool was hotter than the sun but this wasn’t much comfort. I was vaguely aware that someone was trying to lift my knees up to put cushions underneath them – WHAT DID I NEED CUSHIONS FOR?! I then needed to push again.

At this point, I definitely felt like I was being completely ripped apart, but the midwife said the head was coming so I just kept pushing. It really did feel like there was a head coming out.
Amazingly, I got it out in that one contraction with a few little pushes for the nose and mouth.
This entire time, I knew that Marc was right behind me watching everything – there was nowhere he could stand to get away from it. Under normal circumstances I would have felt bad for him (he can’t even watch One Born Every Minute without feeling faint), but I was pushing a baby out. I couldn’t have cared less at this stage.

Next contraction was heaven – one short push and I felt what I assume were the arms and legs wriggle out. The pain disappeared. The midwife told me to turn around to see what I had, it was a girl! I was convinced the whole time I was having a boy so I was really surprised! She passed her up between my legs for me to hold. She was so gorgeous! I have never seen so much hair on a baby either. Absolutely amazing.

The next part was a bit awkward – trying to stand up and get onto the bed with her as apparently, the cord was a lot shorter than normal. But we managed it, and after a min or so Marc cut the cord. I can’t remember much more about what happened at this point, I know we had at least an hour of skin to skin, but it felt like 5 mins to me. I do however, remember after getting onto the bed, looking down at the floor. It looked like a scene from a slasher movie. I later asked Marc about it:

“was it bad? I just remember seeing a LOT of blood and green stuff..”
“No it wasn’t that bad”
“Seriously?”
“……..yeah okay…..it was pretty bad!”

The entire labour lasted an hour and a half, yes I know this is extremely quick and I do feel very grateful I didn’t have a 36 hour labour of misery, but it was still an absolutely horrific experience. I don’t get people who have ‘wonderful’ labours. That can in no way to me be described as wonderful. However – I do understand why people say that you forget about the pain, as it is definitely worth it.

My absolute favourite picture of Elizabeth
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Marc was fantastic throughout the labour – and even though I can’t remember what he said to me, I do remember him holding my hand, rubbing my back and talking to me encouragingly which really helped.

First clothing change
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Elizabeth Violet, born 9.28am weighing 8lbs 1oz

Named Elizabeth after one of my favourite literary characters, Elizabeth Bennett, and Violet from a family name.

She is just perfect!

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A quick bit of procrastination..

I realised I haven’t posted in a while! That and I’m procrastinating from cleaning the house.

Well, if I haven’t been sleeping this last week (which I have been doing a LOT), then I’ve been travelling on the train to and from weddings! 

Weddings are HARD when you’re in your first trimester.

Thankfully, the first wedding, which I had to travel to London for, was a short and sweet affair.  Down to the registry office, back to the pub, drinks and amazing vegan cupcakes.  Then back to bed for a couple of hours. The second, was a bit more strenuous, but worth it. It was an all dayer  and I tell you – I originally got a room in the hotel where the wedding was held because I thought I would be drunk. That room was the best idea I’ve had. After the wedding breakfast – which in itself was a struggle as baby doesn’t like beef (this is greatly disappointing to me), I popped upstairs for a quick bubble bath and nap . Heaven!

Apart from that, my sick days have gotten worse, I cannot deal with the pet food. This is an issue with my husband being away and 3 animals to feed! It makes me wretch. I dread opening the packets! I have a supply of Yankee candles though and the strong smells seem to help. The vanilla and chai scent is my new best friend!