Baby in, baby out

If you're a Pinterest addict like me, you'll have seen photo collages like these before. I always thought they were so cool so I thought I'd have a go at creating my own.

Of course, the image you have in your head is often not quite as slick or as cool when you actually do it, but it's still a nice memory and will be funny for Baxter to look back on I'm sure. The baby in shots were about 1 week before he was born and the baby out shots are about 6 weeks after he was born. What a difference a few weeks makes.

What I notice about these excluding the really cute baby is this. Pre baby I had lipstick on, hahahah. Pre baby I was not quite as ghostly pale. Pre baby I didn't have under eye circles for miles. Post baby though I have a facial bone structure. I didn't notice how puffy my face was before hand - I didn't think I was as swollen but check out that water retention. Also a professional would have taken off her necklace and worn the same pair of glasses doh!

Check out my Pinterest boards here if you want to see what other cool ideas I can butcher some time soon:)



Helloooo from the ever expansive world of black lycra clothing. I'm down to two outfits and one of those is pyjamas.

Today marks my being 39 days and 5 days pregnant. Which is the most pregnant I've ever been. Here is photographic proof.

Before I go on I should just clarify that I'm not complaining. Well I am, but not without the deep appreciative understanding that expecting a baby is perhaps the most wonderful place to be. So please don't think I don't realise how lucky we are.

However, I keep banging into things. I've given myself matching grazes on each side of the bump because I clearly have no idea how big it actually is. My ribs are so painful, the sensation veers between distinctly uncomfortable and excruciatingly painful. I keep surprising myself with how loud my footsteps sound as I make my way around the house. I sound like a giant.

I want to live in the bath. Getting my own socks and shoes on is nigh on impossible.

The stretchmarks left over from carrying babies one and two are unzipping as we speak. After Brodie I realised I had stretchmarks but they only came up to my belly button. With Grier I was left with a higher tidemark and this time I suspect I'll have a tiger striped chin soon enough.

I'm bored of my own thoughts. I keep dreaming that I've 'missed' the baby, like I've missed my chance to bring my newborn home but I've no idea where he/she's gone.

I'm not even past my due date yet it's just that I never expected to be here. Having two babies come in weeks 38 and 39 has completely messed with me. I'm not sure why I'm finding this so hard to compute. Rationally this seems ridiculous but emotionally it's wringing me out.

I suspect if you've been there yourself you'll be nodding sagely and perhaps chuckling at my naivety. You'll be full of advice about the fact that babies come when they are good and ready. Which of course I know. If you're a man you may be busy working out the 'worse case scenario' ie, one cannot remain pregnant forever. If this is you Genius I'd like to offer you this fork in order that you may stick it in your eye.

I'm kind of shooting myself in the foot here but I wonder if the reason the baby hasn't made their appearance is because I'm not quite prepared. I mean physically I'm as prepared as I can be - with major renovation work due to begin on our house, space and organisation are sort of second in line to 'making do' and 'getting through' but that's fine, we'll deal with it.

Emotionally I feel a bit fragile though. Brodie is due to have the (routine, straightforward) operation on his ears in the next few weeks and I'm willing to admit to major anxiety around the general anaesthetic. He's asthmatic and he's my (5 year old) baby. Not to mention I'm going to have an actual newborn baby to consider.

I've been having regular irregular contractions since Friday. I actually asked Greig to take kids to Granny's overnight because I thought they were starting to come closer and more intensely but by about 3am they had petered out. Since then I've had a couple of hours of contractions most evenings but they don't seem to be actually doing anything.  They do make sleep difficult though and did I mention I'm bored of myself yet?

This time around I haven't been as worried about going from 2 to 3 offspring. Last time I was a basket case but 2 year old Brodie adapted to his sister without skipping a beat. There was always more than enough love to go around and there will be this time too I'm sure.  Plain sailing is never likely with kids but I'm thrilled that we are adding another person to our family.  So, what I'm saying Baby 3 is that from the outside your family may look chaotic and disorganised and messy but it's exactly where you need to be. Come on out, it's lovely I promise....

Speak Up

I don't know. I might have mentioned this once or twice recently. I'm pregnant.

I've been thinking about giving birth times 1 and 2 and how that all happened.

I've thinking about birth plans and hopes and dreams and all that stuff.

I've spoken before about how how my control freakery contrasts with a desire for an unmedicated, natural birth. I think I'm probably pretty normal in that respect. The scariest thing about giving birth for me was being scared of giving birth. It's scary. It's messy and it's at least in parts going to be painful. A bit like life itself then.

I was worried about losing control about being out of control and let's call a spade a spade making a tit of myself when it all got too much. I didn't want to embarrass myself or my husband or anyone else who happened to be around. Which is ironic because as I discovered quite quickly none of the health professionals who are likely to be around when you are giving birth are remotely surprised by anything you can do or say, they have quite literally seen and heard it all before.

It was sort of like an out of body experience when I was in active labour. I could hear the noises I was making, obviously, but I couldn't quite believe they were coming out of me. They sounded animal like and when they came out of me I felt transparent. Like my very soul was visible and the pain and fear I was on full show. Whoah, even reading that back was a bit intense.

Giving birth is intense. It's liberating and empowering and you literally turn yourself inside out in order that you can give your child safe passage into the world. I asked Greig if I was scary in labour or if I made him feel uncomfortable. He said I didn't, that he knew I was there but not there and that it was just my way of coping. I was surprised at how 'altered' I felt during and after the birth. Like I was slipping in and out of some other state. I'm aware of how bizarre that sounds.

And it made me wonder if sometimes women feel they shouldn't be transparent giving birth. They shouldn't make strange, animal noises which might shock others. They shouldn't cry or swear and do whatever is necessary to get it done. I hope no woman feels that they should quieten down or give birth neatly or tidily or with less fuss. I hope you speak up and say what you need to say, whether that be actual words or just a strange mooing/baaing/shrieking hybrid (just me then?).


So in the last few weeks my somewhat tenuous grip on reality has loosened. Just last week I called a friend who's been married for over a year by the wrong name, luckily she was very understanding but the whole thing brought to mind several exceptionally stupid things I've done over the past few weeks.

And because I love nothing more than sharing my stupidity with the internet......

The first incident occurred when Grier and I were getting ready to pick Brodie up. I fastened my maternity coat and bent down to fasten Grier's. And then I heard the zip on my coat making an unauthorised opening. Now the coat was fastened at the top and bottom of the zip but was completely open over the bump. And predictably I had a white t shirt underneath so the contrast between light and dark only served to highlight my predicament. I could not move the zip up or down, I could not wiggle my arms out and I actually even tried to get my legs of out the bump hole. I was completely flummoxed. And stuck. And due to pick Brodie up any minute. So I put on my hat and scarf and walked down the main street of our town towards the school with my bright, white tummy on show for the world to admire. Mortifying.

Next up was the morning I forgot to take keys on the school run. Luckily I'd left a window slightly ajar and luckily the garage was open so I was able to get the ladders out and climb through the window. At 7.5 months pregnant, elegant it was not. Grier sat outside on the wall, swinging her legs watching me with a mix of fascination and horror. Did I mention our house lies on the main street?

And this one is the very best. After work last week I went to buy milk and yoghurts and a few other bits. And as I put my card into the PIN machine I felt an overwhelming sense of panic as I realised I couldn't remember my PIN number. The very kind young man behind the till suggested I try another card. Only I couldn't remember any of my PIN numbers. Not one. And I still can't. Which is why the next day I had to make a tour of the banks we bank with and ask for new PIN numbers. It's like someone has completely wiped the area of my brain needed for PIN numbers. Gone, nothing left. Not even a hint.

So please I'm asking you from the bottom of my heart. Please will you share with me your stupidest moments? Of course I'm blaming pregnancy for mine, but feel free to chip in Dad!