Weeks 31 – 35

Right, what have I got to moan about this month?

London weekend
Well to start with, I tootled off down to the big smoke on the glamorous national express to stay with Stef and meet up with my friend Holly. We ate tapas, looked at dead things in jars (so much better than it sounds), Sky Gardened and ate steak.

At the Sky Garden

At the Sky Garden

Oxford weekend
A couple of weeks later, I had ANOTHER girly weekend, this time in Oxford with more steak (its for the anemia, yo), afternoon tea and dominoes. The non-pregnant amongst us (so everyone apart from me) also had a shit tonne of prosecco and a hot tub. Honestly, preggos miss out on all the fun.

Oxford

Oxford

On the Sunday, we went for a mooch around the grounds of Blenheim Palace, which was gorgeous. On the 5 minute drive back, I passed out twice and ended up having an ambulance called for me. I thankfully managed to avoid the public pooping this time, so be grateful for small mercies. My blood pressure was low but my blood sugars were fine, so its been put down to heat and dehydration. I think (with my extensive years of medical training) that diet played a part, as this weekend was more cookies and junk food than bran flakes and complex carbs. But I feel fine now, and I’m taking it easy, OK?

Afternoon Tea

Afternoon Tea

For the record, I did this last pregnancy as well, but that involved me being naked except a pair of knickers and some massage oil, leaving an imprint of my bum on the floor. 

Tits!

Around this time last pregnancy, I posted a blog about all the nursing bra research I’d done and which ones I bought.

Nursing bras, the PJs I bought to fit me in later pregnancy and the big boy-short pants I bought to wear after giving birth are the three items of my maternity wardrobe that never *quite* made it in to storage and stayed in my general clothes rotation. OK, so they might make your tits look like shit but hot damn, those things are so comfy I’ll forgive them. This does however mean that 2.5 years down the line, I have a lot of nursing bras which my boobs looked crap in when they were brand new, which have been washed and tumble dried and worn a million times, to the extent that there are patches where the lycra has given up the ghost and gone completely see-through. Not in a sexy way.

32 weeks

32 weeks

So, it was time to look for some alternatives.

It basically turns out that all the brands and types of bras I used to like have been discontinued, so I dropped a couple of hundred quid on figleaves and bought all the nursing bras I could get my hands on. Either DD+ nursing bras have come a long way in the last 2.5 years, or I made some terrible choices last time around, but I was pretty bloody impressed with my haul. Special shoutout to Cake’s underwired bras in particular for being pretty, supportive and not making ones tits look like a sack of spuds.

 

The “nursery” 

Seeing as we’re still calling “the nursery” the “junk room”, we’ve got a long way to go before it’s going to be on anyone’s pinterest inspiration board. This month, Neil did do a heroic 4 hour flatpack session to make the 8 drawer Hemnes unit so at least we have somewhere to put all the baby shit when we get it out of the loft.

Not that we’ve actually got to that bit, like.

34 weeks

34 weeks

 

Home Birth Meeting 

This pregnancy, my pre-natal care has been shared between community midwives and an obstetric consultant, what with the previous massive baby and all. This has culminated in the grand total of two 30 minute consultations (and a 3 hour wait each time) with a registrar in the consultant’s team who hummed and hawed about me having a home birth until I told them I had the express blessing of both the consultant AND the supervisor of midwives so HA.

Firstborn being all gorgeous

Firstborn being all gorgeous

Side note: I’m not being a crunchy militant home-birther for the sake of it, I love the NHS with all my heart and I know the suggestions I received from the registrars were done so with (what they perceived to be) my best interests at heart. What I do take offence to is consistently not being listened to, being given shoddy “facts” that don’t stand up to AIMS, NICE and NHS guidelines and being scare-mongered in to something for which there is no statistical evidence that the outcomes will be better for me or the baby. For the record: “…home birth is equally as safe as a midwife-led unit and traditional labour ward for the babies of low risk pregnant women who have already had at least 1 child previously”.

I’m also well aware that there are a million and one reasons that might mean we have to transfer in to the hospital, and if that happens, I won’t have failed, or done a bad job. Basically, if there’s a chance I could have this baby in my front room and then get in my own bed with a cup of tea and a packet of biscuits, then that sounds pretty ideal to me.

Important Baby Related Purchases this month

Important Baby Related Purchases this month

Anyway, that all got a bit serious for a minute, but what I was actually trying to say is that my community midwife and the supervisor of midwives popped round to meet with me and Neil and discuss our plans. They were on board with everything we said and were refreshingly straightforward about the whole thing. My community midwife has also typed up the notes from our meeting for the benefit of the midwives who attend when I’m in labour and has generally been a bloody star. SHOUT OUT TO JEAN FOR BEING AWESOME.

My maternity cover started at work

This month, an amazing lass called Kerry started with us at Fat Free Media to take over from me when I leave. Last time I went on maternity leave, my employer took so long to organise my maternity cover, that it never bloody happened, so this is a bit of unchartered territory for me. I’m used to being the person who knows everything, who has their fingers on all the pulses, all of the time, so it wa’ a bit bloody weird to hand over the reins to someone else. At first, we seemed to awkwardly be working on the same thing at the same time. Then we’ve transitioned to her doing some things and me doing the others, and we’re now working towards her doing pretty much all of it, and me solving problems/being there for back up if and when she needs it. Soon, I will be entirely surplus to requirements, which is probably a good thing, especially as, at one point, I had very real concerns about being back at work with a week old baby in a moses basket under the desk.

Battle of the bellies with Neil's best friend's wife

Battle of the bellies with Neil’s best friend’s wife

What this process has taught me, is that I bloody love my job. So that’s good, isn’t it?

Hospital bags

The little pregnancy app on my phone I like to largely ignore and occasionally roll my eyes at keeps reminding me that I should have packed a hospital bag by now, and to make sure I remember to pack warm socks and fluffy slippers because people’s feet get cold when they’re in labour. HAHA FUCK OFF, I wouldn’t have even known I had feet when I was in labour.

So far, have only packed biscuits and sanitary towels. On two occasions, I’ve taken the designated hospital biscuits out of the bag due to an unforseen emergency* (*hungry) and had to repack them a couple of days later.

That’s pretty much all my bases covered, right?

Disclaimer: I will at some point actually pack my hospital bags, I just probably won’t be so organised and smug about it as I was last time. Don’t believe me? See “On Hospital Bags” and the slightly less naive “On Hospital Bags…reloaded” if you want a quick lol.

Next month: Who knows what new and exciting things I’ll find to moan about next month. Probably the fact I’m finishing work, I’m too sweaty, I can’t sleep and that crocheted blanket I thought I would leave until I was spending more time sat on the sofa when heavily pregnant is really fucking hot and definitely not a good idea to have on your lap when it’s 34′ outside.

Progress

Progress

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Weeks 27 – 30

Third trimester
The second trimester is known for being the best bit of pregnancy apparently, because you’re not massive and sore and stuff just yet, and you have marginally more energy than in the first and third trimesters. I say “apparently” because those benefits passed me by completely.

Either way, that bit’s over now, so we’re technically on the home straight.

Turkey
This month we swanned off to Turkey for our jollies, and our close friend’s 60th birthday. I was a little apprehensive about travelling when pretty pregnant, especially when I realised I couldn’t use my Ehic card, but luckily everything was fine.

At least, it was fine until we left the house to drive to the airport and I started feeling decidedly peaky. In the short version of the story, I ate a krispy kreme donut for breakfast and then had a funny turn and passed out/had a little fit/convinced myself I had gestational diabetes.

The longer version of the story involves having an emergency poo at the side of the road before I passed out, whilst having an internal dilemma over whether it was less embarrasing to point my arse towards the cars (anonymity) or my face (no exposed arse).

LOVE a good sunset

LOVE a good sunset

(I went with face, by the way, in case you’re interested)

Neil wanted to get me checked out at the hospital but that pretty much guaranteed that we were going to miss our flight and I was pretty convinced that there were both medics and English breakfasts at Stanstead airport departure lounge – both of which would probably sort me right out. By the time we ‘d got finished with the emergency poos, got through roadworks, caught the bus to the terminal and got through security, there was actually only time for the English breakfast, but luckily it seemed to do the trick as I felt much better after that.

The view from our balcony

The view from our balcony

We’d upgraded our room to a 2 bedroom family suite apartment because every time we’ve ever shared a room with Billy since he was 6 weeks old, it’s resulted in none of us getting any sleep. It turns out it that this was a Very Good Move, but not because Billy was the problem, I became the problem. Or, more specifically, my insanely loud pregnancy snoring became the problem. So I had a superkingsized bed and en suite all to myself, and my poor suffering husband bunked in with Billy in a single bed. Soz Neil.

26 weeks "all inclusive" food/baby

26 weeks “all inclusive” food/baby

GTT tests

As soon as we landed back in the UK, it was time for my Glucose Tolerance Test. Basically, in my area (other areas test everyone indiscriminately), if your BMI is over a certain number, you’re over a certain age, fit a certain ethnic profile or had a fat shit baby before (TICK), they want you to fast for 15 hours, then drink a pint of lucazade whilst they test your blood.

Bearing in mind my recent history with Krispy Kremes, this was not an experience I was looking forward to as I’d done a fairly good job of convincing myself I had the diabeetus and was going to spend the rest of this pregnancy eating lettuce. But, like all things I’m utterly dreading, it was actually FINE, and my blood sugar levels were exactly the same before the lucazade as they were 2 hours after the lucazade. I think this is a good thing? Either way, no Gestational Diabetes here, pass the Cadbury’s Dairy Milk.

My Magic Chiropractor/Wizard

Now I don’t know about everyone else, but my pregnancies seem to have been plagued by very specific and annoying ailments which appear overnight, stay for a few days and then disappear as quickly as they came on. Conveniently, they seem to disappear at the same point you reach the end of the Google search engine results pages and have tried every pregnancy safe remedy in the book. Examples of this include: insanely sensitive teeth that stop you eating or drinking, a scalp so itchy it stops you sleeping at night and mysterious hives that come and go as they damn well please.

One such ailment was the appearance of a completely dead left leg and bum cheek, which made getting up the 8 flights of stairs to the office a teensy bit tricky. After 4 days of this, I found a chiropractor that specialised in pregnant ladies and kids and families and whatnot and thought it would be worth a go.

Pretty much as soon as I booked the appointment, I got up from my desk and my left leg had magically come back to life. Bastard.

Still, with PGP/SPD rearing its ugly head, I went along for the appointment and it was the SINGLE BEST THING I’VE EVER DONE. Seriously. You don’t have to hurt when you get out of bed. Putting on your knickers needn’t be a mammoth task. She’s even cured me of heartburn! Although she’s patiently explained it to me a million times, I don’t have the foggiest how it works, but I’ve decided I don’t need to. I’m just more than happy to turn up once every couple of weeks feeling all wonky and achey, and then walk out 25 minutes later with a spring in my step and a perfectly aligned pelvis. If you’re reading this and you’re pregnant, just bloody go, you definitely won’t regret it.

Anemia

This month, I was also diagnosed with anemia, which I think might have had a thing or two to do with my fainting episode, on reflection. I hate iron tablets with the fire of a thousand suns, so I looked into some alternatives and found Spa Tone sachets, which taste like shite, but don’t give you anywhere near the tummy upsets that iron tablets do. For good measure, I chucked in some Ferroglobin tablets too. Stitch that, anemia.

Definitely not thinking about squeezing that chick

Definitely not thinking about squeezing that chick

On weight gain

When I was pregnant with Billy, I pretty much avoided the scales at all costs. Except when I was in labour, when I weighed myself and got the shock of a lifetime when I discovered I’d put on 45lbs. With Billy being such a chunk, I’ve always felt a bit guilty that maybe the amount of fish and chips I ate had affected his gargantuan proportions, and vowed to eat healthier this time around.

…Which I largely have. I’ve not had the same food aversions this time around, which is good, because when you’re starving hungry but the thought of every meal under the sun makes you want to vom (with the exception of fish and chips), then fish and chips you will eat.  This time around, I’ve been able to eat a lot more protein, I’ve eaten a lot of hard boiled eggs, bagels, sultana bran, berries and dried fruit. I’ve not eaten anywhere near as many takeaways, biscuits or chocolates, so I deserve not to put on as much weight, right?

WRONG. On my 27 week blog when pregnant with Billy, I commented that I’d put on 16lbs so far. Guess how much weight I’d put on by 27 weeks this time round? 16 FREAKING LBS. I can’t wait for the 18 months or so it’ll take me to work off those 45lbs again this time around.

Next month: I pass out some more, get an ambulance called for me, but miraculously avoid emergency roadside poos (progress).

Weeks 22 – 26

I am now an impressive 3 months late with this post. I’m not sure entirely what I’ve been faffing about at, especially as it’s been written in it’s entirety and sat in my drafts since I was 26 weeks. I’m very lazy. Soz.

Moving House

At 22 weeks 6 days pregnant, we moved house. Massive shout out to the 4 men, 3 trucks, 2 parents and 1 tireless husband who helped us get out of the old house, and in and settled in to the new house in one day. I say “settled”, I mean “there’s space for me to walk from the front door to the sofa”. The rest of the boxes can wait.

Since then, Neil and I have been a dream team whereby I shop for new stuff for the house online, then when it arrives, Neil gets tasked within an inch of his life to do the DIY. I did hang two sets of curtains on my own though, so that’s pretty good.

How many living things can you fit within half a meter squared?

How many living things can you fit within half a meter squared?

I wish I was the type of instagrammer who could take smug little pics of corners of the new house and make them look all stylish and stuff, but I’m not, so consider yourself spared some excruciatingly dull pics of our new sofa cushions. Basically, you’ll just have to imagine them. They’ve got triangles on, it’s pretty exciting.

Positive Birth Group

This month, I did a couple of things that were actually to do with babies, and not to do with working, or moving house or watching True Detective (although I did a lot of those things too). When everyone else was looking up at the solar eclipse through welding masks, I tootled off to a Home Birth/Positive Birth group in Nottingham.

I didn’t really go with any expectations, or any agenda, but it was bloody lovely and I’d definitely go again. Two women bought their babies who were less than a month old, and told their birth stories (one 2nd baby home birth at 14 days overdue, one first time mum hospital birth, two happy mums), and within 4 days of the meeting, two other women who were very pregnant when I met them, shared their birth stories with the facebook group (one VBAC homebirth for baby 3, one with Gestational Diabetes, a homebirth that transferred in, two happy mums). I found the whole thing, of meeting real people and hearing real stories that were all different, but all great experiences really cool and very empowering.

Pretty much everyone I’ve spoken to carries some kind of trauma from their birth experience, and it’s such a pity that it’s that bit we tend to focus on, and not the good bits. I’ve done some good thinking about Billy’s birth, I know I was incredibly lucky to have a relatively uncomplicated birth and a healthy baby, but there’s definitely some things I’d do differently this time around. The biggest thing by far would be to have confidence in my self, and my body’s ability to do its own thing – rather than where, when, or how overdue I am when it happens and what song is playing on my birthing playlist, lolz. Can you remind me of this when I get to 41 weeks and am jogging round the block whilst eating pineapple in an attempt to kick start labour? Ta.

Good face, kiddo

Good face, kiddo

When Billy was born, we got about an inch of water in the birth pool at home before the midwife decided we had to go to our local hospital for a scan to rule out what they thought might be Vasa Previa. In the process, my waters were broken and it all kicked off so fast there was no time to get home and fill the pool. So the home birth was out of the window, which I didn’t mind. The bit I did mind was being stuck on a maternity ward with low tolerance levels for everything, an inability to use my own legs and having to wait all day for a prescription to be filled. So this time, we’re planning for another home birth. If it doesn’t happen, it doesn’t happen, but if I get the opportunity to have a baby, then curl up in my own bed with my own duvet, and my lovely husband, then I can’t really think of anything better than that.

Pregnancy Yoga

This month, I also started attending pregnancy yoga. I say “started” because a week after I started, I missed a class, and the week after, classes weren’t on because of Easter, so to date, I’ve done ONE yoga class. That means I’m a bona fide yogi now, right?

So off I trot to yoga with a mat under one arm and a pillow under another. When I was pregnant with Billy, the pilates and yoga classes both required you to bring a pillow, so I was pretty smug about remembering to take one this time round. Got there, was the ONLY dickhead with a pillow. Everyone else had bottles of water and blankets. Looked like a complete n00b.

Two paintbrushes and "magic paint" (water). Hours of fun for two identically dressed toddlers.

Two paintbrushes and “magic paint” (water). Hours of fun for two identically dressed toddlers.

Not only that, but there were BLOKES there. In fact, I walked in to the room, and walked straight out again because surely the whole being pregnant thing hadn’t changed THAT much in the last 2 years had it? Answer: yes. Of a group of 12 women, three had their partners with them. I felt a bit bad that Neil was at home wrangling a small boy into his batman PJs rather than with me doing what was clearly going to be some smug bonding yoga type stuff, but as the lesson went on, I was more and more glad Neil wasn’t there. There was no smug couple bonding stuff. There was three men who spent a lot of time with their hands on their stomachs connecting with their “babies” whilst a yoga teacher talked about pelvic floor muscles and how remarkable vaginas really are. Might take Neil with me next time, just for the lolz.

Weddings
I used to think kids running around at weddings were adorable. When we got married, we invited kids as standard and was pretty shocked when everyone except family declined the offer to bring kids with them. Now? I totally get it. Weddings with toddlers involve a lot of running around and trying in vain to keep your kid out of the soil/wedding cake/dj booth (delete as appropriate).

Weddings WITHOUT kids on the other hand are excellent, and we went to two lovely weddings this month.

Pics or it didn’t happen:

Kerry and Matt's wedding

Kerry and Matt’s wedding

Laura and Tom's wedding

Laura and Tom’s wedding

Bump pics

Last time round, I took fornightly photos of my stomach, convinced that marginal changes in shape really proved I had “popped”. This time, my flab is staying under wraps, ta. At 23 weeks, right on cue as I did last time, a tiny bump appeared out of nowhere, and pretty much doubled in size on a weekly basis from that point.

23 weeks (and convinced I was massive, which on reflection, I definitely wasnt)

23 weeks (and convinced I was massive, which on reflection, I definitely wasnt)

And just to prove I’m not lying when it comes to my belly doubling in size week on week, here’s me 3 weeks later in a different, but very similar stripey top (seriously, what is it with maternity clothes manufacturers and stripes? So slimming):

26 weeks

26 weeks

Rainbow Blanket: Important updates
To round of this update, I have some very exciting news: crocheted blanket in “a bit longer than it was last month” shocker. I know. Truly mind bending stuff.

I AM pretty chuffed with myself that when I started this project (which has an alternative title of “the only thing I’m going to crochet, ever”) I eyeballed the length based on my memory of Billy’s star blanket that I was looking to replicate. Three months down the line, I get out the star blanket, and bugger me if I didn’t get the length EXACTLY right. It’s like my secret superpower or something.

Rainbow blanket progress

Rainbow blanket progress

Next month: Turkey! Fainting!Gestational diabetes tests!