Surviving the Easter Holidays

Surviving the Easter Holidays

Is anybody else sick of the rain? Geepers its miserable and it’s the Easter holidays! I think it is selfish that the nursery is closed for 2 whole weeks. Not because I’m concerned for my child’s learning or development but how am I meant to cope with all three kids at home on my own while L works? And why do some people call it the Easter break? It’s not a break for me although it could break me! I’ve been openly dreading it. I love my children so so much but nursery gives me a break, it gives me time to rest and get through the never ending list of jobs that need to be completed to run a household and saves some of my sanity. Then there are those mums who tell you how much they’re looking forward to the holidays as they have so many activities planned and they’re all happy and bouncy talking about how lovely it is to have their darling child home with them every day. I just want to punch them. Weirdos. Go away with your grand pinterest parenting ideas and leave me to kick into survival mode to make it through each day.

Survival mode in reality is me secret eating the kids Easter eggs in the utility room. So if you got our kids an Easter egg please know it’s going to a better cause to keep me alive and happy; plus the tiny human loves chocolate milk! Only thing is I’ve nearly been found out a few times by the chaotic one who can smell chocolate from another room – she’s like her Mammy. It’s now becoming a bit of a challenge getting the chocolate from the fridge, out of the kitchen and into the utility room before being caught red handed by the pint-sized detective. I feel like some sort of secret agent crossed by a ninja but nothing will come between me and my chocolate fix.

My other survival tactic is taking life one day at a time and by doing so I am actually enjoying myself. It’s hard. Like flippin grafting like I’ve never grafted before hard but I’ve loved spending time with all of my girls. I had a complete wobble that I was missing parts of each child growing up and I felt sad (obviously exacerbated with the ridiculous amount of hormones still floating around my body). Now things have slowed down. We don’t have to be anywhere for a certain time and I’m not rushing around. I’ve started to enjoy the good moments more or move on from the crappy times quicker. I’m feeling like I’m there for them all as much as I can be and the guilt is slowly dissipating. Just need to try and get a bit more time with L and then I’ll feel like a winner. I’m hoping she understands I’m choosing sleep over her for now.

I was feeling epic the other morning when I had all 3 kids dressed and ready to leave the house by 8:27 but by 10:27 they were all miserable crying and I was trapped in the car with them stuck in traffic. G cried saying she was too hot and I told her not to be silly then she puked in the car. Now who’s silly?!! Thankfully she perked up once we got out of the car and we took the tiny one to get her first lot of immunisatons. She is 8 weeks already! The time is flying by. Thankfully I didn’t have a chance to get all emotional about inflicting pain on our little one as I was too busy trying to keep the bigger girls occupied. They were a good distraction.

Today I made it to the supermarket with the three kids in tow, picked up everything we needed and took it to the till where I realised I’d left my purse in the car! FFS!!!! I didn’t cry which shows big progress but I left the shopping at the till, made a return trip to the car to retrieve the purse then paid for the food. I did consider if there was a suitable person I could leave the kids with while I legged it to the car which would be so much quicker than taking all of them but there was nobody I knew as I looked desperately around the queues. I would’ve even been happy if super bouncy craft Mum popped up at just the right time to babysit for a minute but she’s probably way too organised and probably done an online shop or grows her own food in the garden.

We are adjusting to being a family of five and I’m learning how to be a mum of three and thankfully it’s getting a little easier. But to do this I’m having to learn to be kinder to myself, to let things go, to cry if I need to and accept help rather than being stubborn. To accept that it’s going to be hard and realise every day I am achieving.

Now to survive one more week of the “break” and it’s when L is jetting off to Vegas with her BFF for a long weekend of partying. Here’s hoping I get more than a “my wife went to Vegas and all she got me was this lousy tshirt” t-shirt when she returns!!!


It does get better!

It does get better!

I’ve just been chatting to a lady in a coffee shop who was cooing over the tiny one who is now 7 weeks old. I now have the ability to chat to strangers and I’m enjoying showing off my not so tiny, almost 10lb, baby. At the end she said “You look so well. Unbelievably well in fact” and at that point I no longer felt like a fraud. I do actually feel better than I have. Don’t get me wrong I’m not 100 percent yet but things are improving. It’s likely I’ll have to have another surgery soon so physically that’s a setback but feeling better emotionally is really helping. Plus who wouldn’t be happy with a hot chocolate, whipped cream and a big fat slice of carrot cake for breakfast! But seriously, I’m not crying all of the time and not wandering around like a complete space cadet feeling unable to cope, and I’m laughing again. It’s baby steps but hey I only produced a whole new life 7 weeks ago!

Don’t get me wrong that doesn’t mean it’s easy. Far from it. I feel like I’m stretching myself so thin and constantly overcome with guilt when I can’t meet the demands of my young family. But I’m giving as much as I can. After the girls have had my all there’s nothing left for L or me but I do know it will get easier….maybe in 18 years!

I’ve had to lower my standards a lot. The baby was out in non matching pink clothes yesterday and G went to nursery with two pairs of knickers on this week which I spotted when she was on the toilet before nursery but by then she had her trousers on and shoes so there was no way I was even trying to rectify that at 08:45 when nursery starts at 9. The next day I completely forgot to put her in the shower after she’d wet the bed in the night so off she went to nursery probably smelling like pee. Poor soul. But in fairness I was flying solo as L was on holiday. Well she’ll tell you she was away with work but she stayed in a hotel, ate hot food in a restaurant and drank alcohol with friends. That sounds awfully like a holiday to Me! She says she’s just getting me ready for when she jets off to Vegas next month with her bestie. Don’t worry I’m making a note of all of these trips and I’m sure by the end of the year I can cash it in for a month in the Maldives ALONE. I daydreamed about it in the bath. I closed my eyes while the big kids were in bed, and before the milk bandit strikes again but just as I was feeling a little bit relaxed I hear “Mummy I need a wee”.
After an eye roll and a few choice words muttered under my breath establishing if she really does need a wee as Mummy is in the Maldives I get up and take her to the toilet then get back in the bath while she sits on the toilet having a FAKE wee as she’s already had 3 wees before bed.
“Mummy why are your eyes closed?”
“I’m wishing I’m on a desert island alone right now”
“Why’s your bath big mummy”
“Because I’m big, now have you finished your wee?”
“I need 5 more minutes Mummy”
I give up! I just wanted 5 minutes of nothing….who am I kidding???

I can’t stop thinking about how lucky we have been with our little newborn with her being so content and relaxed it has made all of the heartache and struggles I’ve been feeling so much easier. Then we got to 4 weeks. Now we always have a little chuckle when people have just had a baby and they’re all excited still and there’s a million pictures on Facebook of how great they are all doing and how good their baby is and you know it gets to about 4 – 6 weeks and things change. The baby stops just feeding and sleeping and starts fussing and you have no idea why or how to stop the terrifying sound of a newborn shriek and you realise you’re still learning about what they like and what will soothe them. Well that’s where we have been but thankfully coming out the other side. It’s when the honeymoon period is over, the adrenalin has dried up and the tears are flowing…from all of us. The low point was when it took me 3 hours to settle the little one for bed one night. I’d feed her she’d settle then she’d poo so I’d change her she’d cry then feed then poo. This went on for hours. The last time I changed her she pee’d on my bed. L was asleep next to me so I couldn’t even change the sheet. To say I was pissed off was an understatement. So I got a towel to cover the wet bit and tried again to settle her. Then the screaming started again. It woke L and then we ended up having a row about what was wrong with the baby and I asked her to go to the spare room and leave us alone. I don’t see the point in us both being tired. Not just because L is like a bear with a sore head when she’s not had enough sleep but because she has to go to proper work tomorrow. Anyway she left then the baby cried and I cried. That was that. I’ve now purchased a dummy and hoping that helps with the 6-9pm witching hours. Obviously I stood for ages perusing the dummy aisle with heart wrenching guilt coming through my body that my baby shouldn’t have a dummy but I managed to stop the tears and have a word with myself. I’ll not be upset about it tonight when it keeps her calm and quiet while I’m catching up on Greys Anatomy!

It’s ok to not be ok. Supposedly.

It’s ok to not be ok. Supposedly.

I can only describe the last couple of weeks as a continuation of the longest rollercoaster of my life! I’m experiencing highs and lows literally every single day and if I wasn’t having to keep the fluids up for feeding the milk monster it would be to stop me from becoming dehydrated from all of the tears!

Finally the time came for catheter out day. As if the general birthing a child ensures you’ve lost all dignity and privacy for your body after people have prodded and poked around, put things in places you’d rather not; then carrying around a bag of your own waste fluid is just a continuation of this unwanted experience. The doctor pumped my bladder full of dye until it was full and I felt like it would explode then took a load of pictures of it to check that it wasn’t leaking. It wasn’t which meant I could have the catheter out and just had to pee a certain amount during a few hours. Totally nailed it and did a happy peeing dance to celebrate. Never been so relieved (literally) than I felt right then. Only problem was by being so fixated on the catheter coming out I hadn’t considered I’d still be feeling pretty shabby, both physically and emotionally, once it was gone so that added to my frustration and upset.

The following day we registered our teeny tiny human and made her all official. Funnily enough her name wasn’t on the list of the top 100 in the registry office but that didn’t surprise us as we went for something she will definitely have to spell out or clarify whenever she rings a call centre. Poor kid. The big girls were at nursery so we went for a lovely peaceful meal just the three of us to celebrate. You forget how easy eating out is with only one child in tow – hot food and everything!

We have also celebrated our anniversary. 1 year since we turned our civil partnership into a marriage and 11 years since the civil partnership. I can’t believe how quickly it’s gone since the big party in Windsor. We had agreed not to make a fuss since we have quite a bit going on with the arrival of the little one but L surprised me with my wedding flowers all over again with our first dance song “Shut up and Dance” playing. There were free flowing happy tears and that warm, fuzzy feeling at just how thoughtful she is. I felt loved. She’s got to love me to put up with me over the last few weeks I know it’s not been easy for her.

Next, to add to the ride, it was time for L to head back to work. This is it. This is me on my own with our three children. This is us having to begin our new normal. I felt ready for it. I mean the OCD in me was starting to get annoyed at how L was doing things round the house which is usually my territory. I mean she’s let G have potato waffles for breakfast most days with the giveaway sign of ketchup on her face and who knows how many chocolate biscuits the chaotic one has had. L wasn’t bothered though she said it was a clear sign I was getting better now I’m bossing her around again. Plus I made it to nursery only 5 minutes late with all the snow, three kids in tow and homemade costumes for world book day. Felt epic! Maybe it’s the Northern in me, or maybe it’s just the determination that I want to feel better and back to me, that I got a bit of fire in my belly.

So imagine the disappointment that the first week going solo the tears still kept coming. I found it hard for so many reasons. I was in pain manouvering through the day from lifting the kids into the car and going about my day to day tasks as well as coping with the tiredness, so it was no surprise when the health visitor asked me how I was coping and I became this blubbering mess of tears and ugly crying face. Now I don’t know what your experience is of a health visitor but I hear a lot of people grumbling about them and their faults but I guess I’ve been pretty lucky with mine as they’ve always been fairly helpful.

I’ve only had one awkward moment with our first health visitor who discretely shuffled the ‘contraception after a baby’ leaflet out of her welcome pack she was about to give me. Yes I’m not sure I’m going to need that love! So this time round and I’m a mess expecting her to be all judgy and critical at my ability to be a good mum and her advice was “you’ve had a baby. Go easy on yourself. It’s ok to feel like this.” Phew! It was like the fog had lifted a little bit. Maybe it was ok. Maybe I’m not completely crazy. My friend told me it’s ok to not be ok. Maybe she is right. Still keep trying to tell myself that and remind myself I’m trying to get over a hugely traumatic birth, whilst juggling life with three children and not to mention the physical healing which is still not where I want it to be. My stomach for instance is a mess. I’d expect it to start resembling some sort of normal by now, maybe a little podgier, but it is still really abnormal, hugely swollen and painful in many areas – probably about 5 months pregnant looking. Trying to be patient but it’s not really my thing.

I have been living in this weird blur for the last few weeks. I’ve even gone through some of my pictures and texts and can barely remember them happening or as if it was from another time. It’s weird and surreal but my control freak nature hates it plus I feel like I’m not getting to enjoy the best bits like I would want to. Also with this emotional side of things my ability to interact with many humans, be them friends or strangers, is becoming affected. When people tell me I look great or that I’m doing so well I feel like an absolute fraud as inside I’m hurting. When people ask me how I am my response is the usual “I’m good” or “I’m ok” but really I’m not but I won’t tell you because I want to be these things I’m just not there yet and that’s ok. Supposedly. I don’t quite feel up to big groups and I certainly am out of my comfort zone with strangers. Strangers are the worst. They see you with a fresh baby and feel its essential to impart their tales about their uterus, vagina or c-section during birth when I don’t even know their name. I can’t be held responsible for my actions if this happens again; my smiling politely has ran out.

So trying to take one day at a time and be kinder to myself lowering my expectations and slowing things down. I know I’ll get there and there will be less tears and more smiles just don’t know when.

Two weeks into life with the little one.

Two weeks into life with the little one.

Two weeks old. Little miss is already 2 weeks old. She has settled into the family as if she has always been here and she’s growing fast. Already getting emotional at her growing out of some of her first size sleepsuits. Awww. I really want time to freeze her at this age and size. I think I’m going to be like this with all of her milestones with her being the last. With G I was pushing her to achieve more milestones but I feel the complete opposite.

I was due to have my stupid catheter out this week but it didn’t happen. I literally bawled my eyes out on the phone when the hospital called to say it would have to stay in another week. A real case of don’t shoot the messenger but the lucky caller got a hysterical, hormonal mess at the end of the line. I then cried on and off for two whole days. I feel for L. Clearly I’m a joy to be around!! I think we are all finding comfort in cake.

To make it worse I started to get even more uncomfortable with the catheter and after a quick check up when collecting some more pee bags my urine does show an infection but it would anyway since I’ve had the catheter in so long. The only options were to leave it and hope I don’t develop any other symptoms or to remove the catheter and put in a fresh one. Since I already feel like someone has set my pee hole on fire there’s no way I’m letting them change my catheter unless it’s absolutely necessary. So I went home with some numbing gel in the hope it takes my mind away from it all for the next week.

Then as if we weren’t sick of any dramas and hospitals the most horrible thing happened. We found this purple bruise-like line on our baby’s stomach/side and groin so we called the midwife who came out to look at it. She said it could be a blood clotting disorder or that they have to consider it would be a NAI (non accidental injury) that someone has hurt her. I felt sick. We were sent straight to the children’s ward at the hospital and told to pack for a few nights as if it wasn’t the blood disorder we would have to stay in hospital until Monday for social services to come. Honestly L and I were crying our eyes out. We felt completely broken that either she had an awful disease or that they thought we had hurt our baby. We went to the ward and after a tense wait where we were both going through everything again and again. L said I roll her like a burrito too tight so maybe that’s why she is bruised and she was second guessing herself saying what if she has picked her up too hard. We were driving ourselves nuts trying to get our head around it all when the doctor examined her and the bruising/mark had gone. We were confused to say the least. Thankfully L had taken pictures which we could show him. Thats when technology is amazing. Straight away he told us it was a vascular abnormality and nothing to worry about! It comes out when she cries along some of her blood vessels. He also found she had a heart murmur but that’s pretty normal at this age and should resolve itself by 6 weeks. We were allowed to go home without painful blood tests on a newborn or social services intervening! It was absolutely awful being in that situation especially when people think that you could possibly harm your child. I get why they have to follow their procedures but to be on the receiving end of the questions and documentation was terrifying.
We are well and truly sick of hospitals now but so so thankful our baby is fine. We’ve been advised to carry the letter from the doctor with us at all times so that if anybody sees the marks again, say at a baby clinic or the doctors, then we can show them the proof that we haven’t hurt her. I would never have even thought about that.

Positive news is our little tiny one has put on lots of weight and her belly button stump, which is utterly disgusting and I have no idea why people keep them as keepsakes, has fallen off so we bathed her for the first time which the big girls really enjoyed. I on the other hand always find it a bit nerve wracking doing the first bath as they’re like a slippery eel. I leave that to L she’s way more confident in that area. Here’s hoping the next week goes quickly and we can start to move on from all of this drama.

Life with the little one – Day 6

Life with the little one – Day 6

I thought I’d have loads of time to write during night feeds about everything that is happening but little miss still has day and night the wrong way round so can sleep for more than 3 hours straight in the day but is up feasting every hour in the night.

Thankfully to keep me going and to help L out a lot the loveliest and super kind people from church have organised a meal rota where somebody comes to bring us food every day for the first two weeks. It’s amazing. Not just savoury food either…CAKES AND DESSERT. It’s like something out of the sweetest little movie. We are so very lucky to have friends like these.

Here’s me and the tiny one on day 6. This is 6 days since this little bundle of goodness arrived and what a delight she is. I don’t want to jinx it but so far she has been so good. Sometimes you wouldn’t even know she is there.

I’ve had loads of messages from people saying how relaxed we all seem and how happy we always are but I’ve not felt too much like that over the last 6 days. Today is the first day I feel a little bit more like me and a little bit less like utter crap.
It’s these times when you realise that without that special person in your life you wouldn’t have half the strength you do. L has been my absolute rock this last week. She’s not only had the girls to look after or the day to day tasks at home but she has broken me out of hospital and cared for me at home with endless cups of tea and snacks. Sometimes there’s no place like home and it couldn’t be more true this week. She’s seen me at my very worst but it hasn’t phased her. She’s just been encouraging me all along the way. Although I was brave at the time I had the little puncture to my bladder and another part dissected during my section, the aftermath has not been so pretty. I didn’t think I would get past day 2 as that’s when I was completely broken but she was there for me, along with a super guardian Angel friend, holding my hand through the pain and wiping up the tears.

So I certainly don’t look like any celebrities in magazines post birth but this is real life and although not as glamourous, it’s still beautiful in it’s own way. There’s way too much pressure on new mums to be looking a certain way after they’ve had a baby but they’ve just had a baby! Give them a break. Let them wear their pjs in the house with unbrushed hair and no make up on. That’s how I intend to spend this first two weeks.
I look about 6 months pregnant with my swollen belly, L says my scar looks good but I can’t see it yet because of the belly, I have a cm cut on my nipple from feeding and everytime little one latches on my toes curl and I wince, plus I have this catheter which I have to keep in for two weeks before they can check my bladder repair has been successful. I managed to loop the tube round the bed the other night when I was up for a night feed and thought I’d yanked my urethra out. There were more tears to add to the usual post natal hormones!

Despite all of this I keep looking at our little baby who is so calm and content and tiny and it makes me happy. I’m grateful that we are so blessed. She looks like a little burrito baby all wrapped up and I would go through all of this again to have this little face to stare at.

I am still on countdown to COD (catheter out day) but I’ve made it through another day, thanks to cuddles with my 3 babies and L, so life is good. Day 7 is one step closer to being 100% me again.

The birth!

The birth!

It’s a girl! I can’t begin to describe how elated we were when we found out our little baby was another girl. I’ve said all along in my pregnancy that it was a girl so I was relieved that my mummy instinct was right. Deep down I think we were both wishing for a girl but didn’t realise it until they arrived. I think we need more bathrooms in our house for the future.

This time we agreed to have the screen lowered during the section and watch our baby being born and it was wonderful. A really special moment that we will treasure forever as it also meant we could learn the sex ourselves too. This little one didn’t cry like the others which obviously panicked us no end but we were reassured that she was fine. Could this be a calm addition to our family? Hmm…I doubt it!

Our baby was here and she looked so tiny. She was much smaller than the others so I expected her to be 6lb something but L shouted over from the scales in the theatre that she was 2700g which is pretty much bang on 6lbs. The smallest of our babies by far. No wonder my bump kept measuring small. I should’ve eaten more cake.

She has a real look of both of her sisters. They certainly all have the same eyes but at different times of the day she looks like G then it will swap to the chaotic one.

L cut the cord and brought her over to me for some skin to skin and we got some amazing pictures with the two of us sporting the biggest grins I have ever seen. I love looking at that picture as each time I see it I feel the moment again and again and it is lovely. I still find it all a bit crazy that a time which can be the most special day of your lives can also be one of the most terrifying, but that’s my experience of having babies I’m sure others may feel differently.

There was a real sense of relief that our baby had arrived safely, that she was finally here after all this time. But not long after her birth I was told by the consultant that they had punctured my bladder and they needed a specialist from urology to come and look at it. I have no idea how but I was pretty calm about all of this. It was surreal me lying awake on the operating table my body open and us all having a general chit chat while we waited for another surgeon to arrive. To be honest I was trying to play it cool for L’s sake as I could see the panic and worry coming over her. It really was mind over matter for the rest of the surgery. I’ve never had to dig so deep to keep it together and have no idea where that strength came from. It also didn’t help much that the tiny one was starting to exercise her lungs and let us know she was hungry.

The surgeon arrived and it was like watching a tv show about yourself that somehow wasn’t real. He said my bladder needed dissecting as it was attached to my uterus which unfortunately is a common problem when you’ve had a previous section but in doing so I managed to get another tear in the bladder. To cut a long story short what was meant to be a 1 hour operation turned out to be 3 hours with my spinal injection wearing off but I was adamant I couldn’t be put to sleep mainly because I didn’t want to leave L on her own as I knew how upset she was and I didn’t want to come round all drowsy and not be able to feed our baby so I did the last bit of surgery on gas and air and talked a whole load of nonsense but it made L laugh so that’s good. Every cloud and all that. I was also told I would need to have a catheter in for 2 weeks before they could check if my bladder had healed but right then I just wanted to get through the surgery and I would deal with that later.

Finally when they had repaired me and stitched me up I was able to go to recovery with L and our little miss and start feeding her which she took to straight away. What a relief. The hardest part was done and now it was just a case of caring for this utterly perfect tiny human who I was already in love with and getting myself recovered so we can begin our adventures as an all female family of five.

Obviously I am gutted that things happened the way they did in surgery but I’m just relieved that we are all ok and keeping my fingers crossed that once I get my catheter out I’m not destined to a life with tena lady or avoiding the trampoline park with the girls. Here’s hoping it all resolves itself over the next few weeks.

L and I haven’t had it easy with 2 of our daughters births being pretty awful but I just keep thinking how I’m glad it was the last one that was complicated as if it had been chaotics birth then we would never have gotten to a third child. It also helps that we have each other to get through these moments and take care of one another. L and I can do anything together and this just proves it. Plus the hardest part is how we negotiate the hormones of having 5 females in the house. Hopefully we will survive that!

Baby countdown: the wait is over!

Baby countdown: the wait is over!

Well that has to be the quickest week of my entire life. In my silly little head I had longed for slow days which are productive and relaxing in lounge clothes (since that’s all that fits me now) in front of the telly, maybe even starting a box set. But that was never going to happen as I’m so rubbish at relaxing.

We had a great time for G’s early birthday celebrations and I even managed to finish the cake extraordinaire and felt pretty chuffed with it. There’s something so satisfying and heart warming with making your little ones birthday cake although the thought of knocking 3 up per year seems a bit daunting!! L doesn’t know why I don’t just buy one, but even she admitted I’d pulled it out the bag this time and it wasn’t a ‘nailed it’ moment. Whoop whoop! Totally high fiving myself here.

So somehow I managed to take a little tumble at the soft play party as I tried to avoid tripping over one of the little guests. Thankfully I managed to save myself from squashing my bump and avoid too much trauma but it did give me a fright. And that night, what I assumed was braxton hicks, started again. So the next couple of days with the lack of sleep and feeling that time was getting closer I just ended up weary and teary by Monday. It didn’t help that the chaotic one decided it would be good to start waking a few times a night for no good reason than ‘tickle me’! Full on psycho screaming and then you’re faced with that beautiful smile and those words. No wonder she gets her own way.

I was overwhelmed by everything on Monday. Felt like I had so much left to prepare on a never ending to do list and I was anxious I’d never get through it. It was all tiredness and me being absolutely moronic. Then the braxton hicks settled but I was in for another dreadful night with the tickle monster.

When Tuesday came around I knew the only thing that would be of any benefit was sleep. And that I did. When I woke up something must’ve clicked in my head and I had a super productive day getting through all of the jobs I had nagging away at me. I even had a good workout with Henry to give the carpets a right good seeing to. It was probably all of that which is why I ended up in hospital that night, or maybe it was finally me relaxing and feeling ready that yes now this baby can come!

I was admitted into hospital with tightenings which then became regular contractions. I’d driven myself there in the hope I’d be told it was nothing and they would send me packing with some reassurance and a “see you on Thursday” but that wasn’t the case.

After being admitted nil by mouth, with the possibility of doing the section the next day, I checked in to what I can only describe as a luxury holiday. It was peaceful and there was nobody I had to look after. L came to visit me the next morning and asked me several times if I wanted anything to eat whilst scoffing hula hoops and drinking tea. Always brilliant when nil by mouth but like she says she has to keep her strength up! Seriously though as always she’s done nothing but run around after us all over the last few days. She is my rock and I’m missing her now.

Finally the decision was made to wait until the planned section date the following day but to keep me in the hospital until then. So I spent the day listening to music, talking rubbish with L, I had a bath in peace and when I came back to my bed my dinner was sitting waiting for me without any effort on my part and no clearing up afterwards! Seriously why did I not check myself in here sooner it was absolute bliss.

L brought the girls in to see me and they gave the most lovely cuddles which brought tears to my eyes. I really hope they are going to do well with this massive adjustment to their lives. I felt so guilty for them on Tuesday I made them star shaped sandwiches for their nursery packed lunch. Hoping that the extra effort would go a long way to show that I loved them so much but I’m pretty sure they would’ve got flung to the side and favoured by some other lunch box item. This is motherhood guilt creeping in.


Here I am now literally hours from holding our little baby, the final piece to our family jigsaw, and I’m thinking about the moment and how exciting it’s going to be but still a little bit sad that now the pregnancy journey has come to an end. L hates it when I get like this. She says I get all thinky and it seems all gloomy when I get to the end of anything but I’m not gloomy I just like to reflect on what’s has happened so I can look to the future for what will be next. She says it’s too deep. And yeah it is but we’ve come a long way. It’s not just the 9 months I’ve been cooking this little tiny human, it’s all of the discussions before hand, the IVF treatment, the donating eggs (I mean how excited must that family be about to have their first child after such a long journey) and then the miracle of being pregnant. Plus this has been the pickle of all three of my pregnancies which has certainly kept us both on our toes.

This will be the last time I have my bump and feel a new life competing for the gold medal in gymnastics inside me. I guess I am a bit sad that’s all over and apprehensive of what’s about to come, but once I’m holding that fresh little life in my arms, smelling its unique newborn smell you wish you could bottle and feeling their heartbeat on my chest I know I’ll be ready for the next chapter – when the Robson-Malone’s become a party of five!