Yes, I’m still here. Still on the baby-filled side of motherhood, still waiting and hoping that each ‘today’ could be ‘the day’. I remember being impatient the first time around, but I’m sure I was never this uncomfortable. Remember I said the baby had dropped, leaving me with glorious space to fill with food? Well, the baby’s only gone and had the cheek to grow into that space as well now.
With my first, I actually had panic dreams about having a ten pound newborn. Ultimately she had the decency to be a large but bearable 8lb 5oz, but this time around I’m sure it’s going to be a chunk.
It’s right up under my ribs, and right down into my nether regions. And has about eight limbs, from what I can tell. The funny thing about a baby in utero is that everyone talks about kicks, but the amount of bits and bobs that wriggle and jiggle about inside you is mind-boggling, and however many times I study the diagram I still can’t picture how it all fits in there. There are elbows, knees, hands, heels, all jostling for position – and that’s not to mention the bulkier bits that roll across you when the squiglet decides to switch sides completely – shoulders, hips, even its (not so) little bum.
How do they come out looking so tiny? They feel so bulky and cramped.
My tummy is not in a good way and I can’t work out if I’ve got a bug or if it’s simply the gargantuan weight of the baby resting on various parts of my digestive system. It’s not pleasant, and I’m starting to worry about having the required amount of energy to actually give birth to it, given that I can’t fit food in, and what I do fit, well, er… doesn’t stay in there very long. TMI? Sorry. I’m frustrated. And long past caring about any remaining shred of dignity I may have once had. I can’t breathe properly sitting up. The baby has enough room when I’m lying down but my hips are agony, and sleep has become wholly inconvenient, with wakings coming at least once an hour now, for sips of water or to shift sides to ease the hip pain – in itself quite some feat. Any way you slice it there’s no getting around it… It’s simply TIME FOR THE BABY TO COME OUT NOW, PLEASE!!!
Today is my due date. Here are some things that have happened lately.
I experienced a completely disproportionate amount of pride over completing the task of cutting my own toenails.
I have cramp in my toes. All the time. I can’t eat a lot of chocolate in one sitting or the baby goes crazy. This is now an incredibly uncomfortable experience as it involves lots of head bumping against cervix. Ouch. Also, not fair!
I live in dread of anything brushing against my incredibly sensitive sticky outy belly button. Can’t wait for that bad boy to pop back in where it belongs!
I actually feel better than I did last week. I’ve figured that hey, maybe my body just takes 41 weeks to cook a baby. If that’s the case, there’s still only a week to go. I can hang on another week… right?!
My little girl is starting to get impatient. From out and out resistance to the idea of a new brother or sister, even she is now saying ‘come on baby!’ and asking if the baby will come out ‘in a minute?’ (Here’s hoping!)
It’s a really strange feeling being this pregnant. It’s surprisingly lonely. You know that the second you drop, your life will become incredibly busy, a deluge of family visiting, well-wishing cards and messages, and all the other lovely goodwill that comes along with a new baby. But until that actually happens, it’s a waiting game, and not wishing to annoy you with constant questions about whether you’ve dropped yet, you probably hear less from most of your friends and family than you normally would. This is completely understandable, but given you’re entering your third week of maternity leave, and sitting on your butt all day watching TiVo’ed episodes of Hell’s Kitchen and the Big Bang Theory has worn a bit thin, you could really use some company.
This evening, I had a feeling. With a midwife appointment booked in the morning for a second attempt at a sweep (the first one was unsuccessful although I was assured things were ‘progressing’ – I should bloody hope so!) everything felt very imminent. It was a Sunday night and my husband was grumbling about having to start another week back at work, having hoped he might be able to start his paternity leave instead. I told him I didn’t think the baby was far away.
‘You’re not going to wake me up at 3.00 in the morning, are you?’ He joked.
And I didn’t. It was actually 2.30.
Two contractions in, I knew this was not a drill. I called my shell-shocked parents, dragging them out of bed to come over and watch A. We calmly collected everything we needed and I tried to eat crumpets and Belvitas for energy. At 5.45, my waters broke in the kitchen. We were at the RVI by 6.45 and at 9.25, Samuel Ashe Madgwick was born, weighing in at 9lb 14oz. Yes, a boy. Yes, just 2oz shy of my dreaded 10lb weight. Yet there he was, delivered naturally, still seeming so tiny, so new, and so perfect. It explained a lot. My early suspicions about gender were proved correct, despite the fact that in recent days I had started to just assume it would be a girl, as that’s all I could really imagine having.
His weight, whilst eye-watering on paper, didn’t seem so bad looking at him – he was pure squidge really, his head was not particularly big and I wondered just how much of his boyish bulk was composed of cake. I think most. It explained the discomfort and the lack of space for anything, including food and oxygen. I looked at my newborn and still couldn’t imagine how he could possibly have fit in there.
We took him home at 4.30 the same day and introduced him to his big sister, and started our life as a family of four. A week in and I couldn’t be happier. Or more tired. Or more completely baffled as to how our house will ever be clean again.
Thanks for reading everyone, it’s been a rollercoaster and I’m grateful to Janine for entertaining my ramblings on her site. Stay tuned – if I have the time, I’ll tell you the answers to the above questions, and more. Alternatively, I may not reappear in public until around 2017. Maybe I’ll see you then. I’ll be the one with the grey roots and the giant boy toddler.