I’ve sometimes wondered why I can’t really remember the first few weeks of my first pregnancy and it took till the first few weeks of THIS pregnancy to realise why. It’s because I was a pregnant zombie sleeping my way through the weeks, completely exhausted whilst trying to appear all normal hiding any signs that I may be pregnant. Couple that with needing to stuff my face every 5 minutes and that pretty much formed the first trimester both times. I have noticed some pretty big differences this time round too though. Ones that are very assuring when you’re doubting whether you’re actually pregnant but ones that can be “challenging”. For instance..
I was extremely lucky with Little Z. I had one single day of nausea and that was it. Wow, I don’t think I knew I was born back then. Or pregnant. Or whatever. This time round I’ve spent about 10 weeks so far either throwing up or being nauseous all the live long day. And night! At 2am. Why the heck is it even called morning sickness? My breakfast of choice for weeks has been a banana and a a can of Canada Dry. The combination is amazing and staves off nausea for most of the morning. At least I have the pleasure of little Z giving me huge amounts of sympathy about two inches from my face whilst I go through my morning throwing up ritual. Sometimes it comes with encouraging sounds effects too. Each day though he always very sweetly asks without fail if I’ve “finished doing bleurgh”.
Having a belly-height child
Little Z is now belly height and his method of transport is usually to run as fast as he can and slam hug straight into me. This is always lovely but I’m trialling out a sideways block these days. And contemplating buying a Michelin man style protective suit. Failing that I need to stop him running so fast. So the Michelin man style protective suit it is.
Not bawling on management
Thankfully I haven’t bawled on any member of management at work this time. It was definitely in the first trimester, around the 10 or 11 week mark, last time that I sobbed to my boss about how tired I was, how I didn’t think I would cope and how I thought I should be demoted. Luckily at least one of us was sane and he calmed the bag of emotions down and everything was fine again within an hour. I’m quite proud of not bawling on my current boss this time round. So far. I may have bawled on the husband about being SO hungry but that’s completely allowed, right?
Not loving lamb chops
I acquired a pretty strong addiction to lamb chops in the first trimester of my last pregnancy. I would hunt them down wherever I went and devour them in bulk at lightning speed. Barbecued with a film of charcoal were the best types. Along with fat. I could not get enough of FAT! Eww. This time round I’ve gone off chops completely. And fat. Thankfully. This time round any hint of fat makes me wretch full force. Not so long ago I looked at the hubby in complete horror as I could suddenly taste fat from a bite I’d taken of some lamb in a restaurant and suddenly felt very very sick. I knew my choices were to throw up, spit it out or run to the bathroom like a mad woman. I won’t say which one I did. But the husband nearly fell off his chair laughing afterwards.
Doing a regular bump check
I’ve noticed that things are happening a lot sooner this time. Achey bones, little niggles and especially the bump making itself visible. It made me wonder at first if I was having a large baby but it turns out it seems to be a normal second pregnancy related thing. It doesn’t stop me from asking the hubby if my bump is looking big. Turns out Little Z has offered to take on that role. The very first time he heard me ask about the bump he helpfully ran to examine my backside and then confirmed “No Mummy, your bum doesn’t look big”.
Always good to know I suppose!
Its been a very strange sort of month over in our house with all sorts happening. Life has changed a bit since discovering our little big surprise
and I guess the next few months will be all about preparing for another year off work (Ho ho) and getting ready for our new addition.
Little Z has very much taken the whole thing in his stride and looked somewhat pleased for about 20 seconds before he completely forgot about it and moved onto his next adventure, which consisted of selling me an ice cream from his toy shop for £20. Bloomin inflation! He continues to entertain us with all his funny phrases and I’m now tempted to print and frame some of the best and most memorable ones. These little moments are the ones that make us chuckle and we usually end up repeating them to each other, very much coming down to his level instead of behaving like mature and wholly responsible adults. So this month I think I am just proud of the little moments appreciate and take great delight in. Its so easy to forget those things in searching for massive goals that we’re all out for in life. The little moments more than fill those gaps sometimes and have us laughing our heads off along the way.
So Its your turn to come link up with all your Loud n Proud moment. Do you have a big, small, old or new moment you’d love to share? Then grab the badge and link up below. Then The linky will be open till Sunday evening. Your friendly host next week will be Suzanne from 3 Children and It. Enjoy!!
When we sat in the room with our lovely consultant I think I already knew what he was about to tell us. He gently and matter of factly told us our chances of having another baby would be “very very slim”, “possibly even with IVF”. He was gesturing to emphasise his point and I noted he didn’t say “never”. But I don’t think the medical world is really allowed to use that word. I half expected one of those moments where its eerily silent and you hear nothing except the clock ticking away doing its rhythmic thing. I hate ticking clocks. Who the heck invented them? They are such a distraction. Its not how it happened though. I accepted it just as matter of factly. It had been over two years and we’d had what felt like a million tests plus a whole cycle of treatment to get to this point. We were still considering another cycle. By this point though all I wanted to do was have a big break and book a huge holiday. It was November and I really didn’t want to spend yet another year wondering what was going to happen. Even though I did wonder.
So we set about looking for holidays. The Other Half typically wanted to “just relax”. I wanted the polar opposite and decided seeing the Northern lights would be absolutely perfect. After various amounts of research we ended up meeting in the middle and booking a sunny trip to Mauritius for a few months time. So it was, we started to come to terms with our little family of three and by sheer coincidence a good friend happened to be collecting for various women’s and children’s charities. December was one of the peak times for women’s refuges. As were children’s foster homes. We decided to have a massive clear out and give all of Little Z’s baby gear to people that would get some use out of it. Our large number of excess nappies bought during a crazy Amazon shopping spree went to our first time parent friends who gratefully took them off our hands. A whole box of toddler clothes went to the hospice shop and about a million noisy toys went to various places that are hopefully making a lot of children happy now, and probably annoying their parents. It actually felt good to have such a big clear out ready for a new year and ready for our new clutter that we would no doubt fill the newly acquired space very quickly.
Roll on about 3 or 4 weeks later and I got my eerily quiet moment where you hear nothing but the clock ticking. It took me a few minutes to stop staring at the “Pregnant. 1 to 2 weeks” result on the pregnancy test. At about 6am in complete darkness I violently shook a sleeping Other Half out of his deep slumber so I could wave the stick at him. There was more confusion followed by confirmation that it was an “expensive test, not a cheapy one” followed by more tests. Just to be sure. We stopped after 6, stared at each other for a while, then spent the next few weeks in a bit of a happily shocked daze. Attempts at trying to persuade the community midwife to send me for an early scan didn’t work so it felt like the longest wait ever to get to the 12 week mark. The day did finally come as we both practically ran into the sonographers room, dived onto the bed and almost shouted “scan me, scan me!”. There was a bit of a false start as I had drank way too much and, besides feeling like a tank, had completely squished the baby. After getting a lot more comfortable (aka “please have the world’s biggest wee and come back with an empty bladder”) we started again and there, on the very large display screen, was one tiny baby merrily kicking away examining its hands and occasionally glancing directly at us, completely oblivious to the journey we’d been on or that it was there regardless of what logic or all the tests dictated. It didn’t care, it was happy and developing well so far. It finally sunk in at that point that we were having a baby.
And it was behaving a lot like Little Z was on his first scan. Uh oh.
The last few weeks have been slightly traumatic in the Little Z household. What used to be a fun bath time suddenly turned into “I don’t like baths, I don’t need baths, I hate baths” time. Constantly. Day after day. Week after week. It got to the stage where I was seriously tempted to knock on the neighbours door to explain that there were no murders going on. It was just bath time. It then got to a stage where I started skipping bath time. Just to avoid blue murder screaming. It then got to a stage when I was convinced the Other Half would have to forever more climb into the bath with a Little Z clinging to him like a terrified koala bear. We knew it was a phase but it was getting absolutely exhausting.
Then last weekend we found ourselves at Hamleys, stood in front of all their aquatic toys. The Other Half suddenly found a bright green frog. Swimming about on his own in a tank, whizzing around from one end to another. He explained to Little Z that this bright green frog had had a word and asked if he could come and live with us, at our house. Little Z thought about it for a millisecond and his eyes lit up. “Our house?”
It seemed this little bright green frog didn’t like the bath either. And he wondered if Little Z would show help him. Little Z frowned a bit at the thought of the bath but he was persuaded the bright green frog really really wanted to come with us and he loved that idea. A frog swimming away in the bath sounded like fun! Apparently, the very cool fishing rod, complete with reel and magnetic fish that I quite liked didn’t take his fancy that much. Sadly.
So we made our way to the till to ask the man if we could take the bright green frog home. The man behind the counter agreed and asked us if we would like a bag for life. Little Z didn’t need a bag for life. He was going to carry that bright green frog all the way home (and I was going to keep an eye on it each 2 minutes he would get distracted by something else!).
That evening Little Z carefully placed the bright green frog in the bath tub and we all agreed he looked very very happy. Of course he needed Little Z to show him how to use the soap properly. And for the first time in weeks there was no screaming as we didn’t want to scare our new visitor. There was scrubbing, and soaping, and even scrubbing behind ears. Then the whole process was repeated, gently, on the bright green frog and we agreed we should ring the frogs mummy to tell her how good the bright green frog had been and how he’d like to stay with us a while longer if that was ok.
So far, I think he quite likes it here.