Heartache

I sit here, alone (apart from my baby girl Peach who makes me everything but alone), every night and I watch birthing videos.

I wait in suspense, I listen, I smile but most of all I cry. I cry until my lungs are flat-packs, empty of oxygen. I cry when the babies come out, and when they take their first breath; cry. I cry when there is silence just for a split second and everyone is moving and still at the same time, but the silence is suspense in disguise and we're all just waiting to see that baby and check all it's fingers and toes.

But mostly I cry because she's not alone, mentally, physically, emotionally... She's half; or even a third. She is half of the team, before the baby. And she's one third of the team when baby is born.
There's two of her, and him. They are mixed up and in love and in awe of this baby boy or girl that they created. It's all because they fell in love.

He can hear her on a different level, he can speak to her with his eyes; open or shut.

He holds her from across the room, and keeps her warm with his fingertips.

He is there for her 100 percent and it's not conditional or 'just because he feels like it today'. He is there, all the time, and it's not ruining him. It's changing him, and making him.

Things hurt but when we can lean on someone it makes the pain that much more bearable.

Who can I lean on, who I can trust? Who won't hurt me. Who will accept me during these last few weeks and when the time comes; who will hold me up when I can no longer stand...

I'm ruling out people from my life one by one; sieving them out, seeing who really cares and who genuinely wants to be here for me and my baby girl.

It's down to 0, sadly.

It's not true; we don't get what we give. Because I've given everything to everyone and I'm getting nothing back.

People can be horrible.

Life

The end is near. It's so close I can almost touch it.

I have 5 weeks and 3 days to go until the beginning of my baby girls 'life', until she breathes, and opens her eyes, sees daylight and my crying eyes looking back.

It's like life and death; or the beginning and end of everything. Every beginning has an end and every end has a beginning. The end of pregnancy and the beginning of a life, which will too have an end one day (which just hit me and made me feel sick).

I had my two baby rats put to sleep not long ago, and I knew it was for the best. They were my favourite little things in the world. They bit sometimes but they didn't mean to, they didn't know. The pure innocence in those little beady eyes, and their little baby rat feet and paws... The tiny claws made for gripping and climbing which would scratch me and make me itch but my god those little scratches were worth it.

Finch had a tumour for a month, maybe, before it really started effecting her. She was a little on the large side therefore sometimes rolled around on accident when she was trying to get to an itch, and at first it was cute but then it became unfair. She was tired all the time and although she loved her cuddles from day one, she was beginning to love them even more and it was worrying. She was slower than usual, ate more (infact ate all the time, and sat in her food bowl) and slept a lot.

I knew the time had come, and it was unfortunate I had to get them both put to sleep but they came into the world together and they deserved to be together, wherever they were going next.

I hope they're happy and tumour free where they are now, in rat heaven I suspect. Where there's hundreds of hammocks to sleep in and bowls of nutri-grain to snack on, and lots and lots of yoghurt on tap....

I love you my babies xxx

6 weeks 4 days to go

Sometimes things fall out of our hands, and the control is no longer ours. The ball of string is rolling away and we can't run fast enough or lean down to get the end of the ball of string.

We can push ourselves to run, we can squish our babies and organs trying to bend down and pick up the end of the ball of string..

Or we can watch it roll away and dance on the ground; perhaps fool ourselves into thinking that it's magical and wonderful when underneath we're really thinking...

SHIT.

Pregnancy is a strange thing, feeling, time.... "place".

It's extremely lonely even when you're around someone else. Even when there's laughter and talking and crying going on... You still feel like you're in a wee bubble of love, or tiredness or hatred, or hunger... or pain... It's freakin' lovely, do not get me wrong. But crikey dick it's lonely.

I feel so strange... like I'm back in the first trimester. Everything is taking it's time; which is fine, I need time. But at the *same* time, I also really want to meet my baby girl.

The birthing/breastfeeding videos that my antenatal class tutor has lent me, make me cry until it hurts. I cannot wait to experience it all.... A year ago, it was all a dream; the whole pregnancy/birthing shindig. But now it's real.

Truth be told, I hadn't dreamt of it all working out this way... But it's all right, I've got my peach and she's got her mumma.

Funny things have been happening though. In specific; a lot of people in my life have been trying to 'prepare' me for things.

Well if only I knew I'd be doing '3 loads of washing a day', I wouldn't have decided to go forth with my pregnancy.

- Sarcasm..

In all seriousness though; I feel as though I can't be truthful and just *moan* about how crap I'm feeling. I hold it all in until the last minute and usually end up crying. The killer back ache, the heartburn, the swollen feet and carpal tunnel in my arms.... the baby stuck in my ribs...

People growl at me for being truthful or tell me to suck it up and it's funny because generally they're men, or women who were pregnant at least 20+ years ago.

I love this baby girl and nothing scares me about her birth... or the late nights (it's 1.35am and I'm falling asleep), or the sore boobs (according to breastfeeding videos, they shouldn't hurt at all!!) or the lack of social life (that I don't already have anyway)....

I'm not afraid, I'm prepared. And it's taken me months, and I've done it all on my own. I'm ready for her but she's just not quite there yet ;)

It's been a while

& a lot has happened.

I'm still here, very much so. Maybe even more than before.

I've sorted out everything for Peach :). I've ordered her mattress, I skimped on getting the frieze in her room laminated as it looks fine as it is, her quilt's been drycleaned (although it smells worse than it did in the first place, so they told me to bring it back in), maternity clothing is all sorted (as it should be! I'm now 33 weeks... ahhh), her clothing is sorted (-washed, folded, put away, sorted into her hospital bag)...

Things are ticking along and she's moving all day everyday. Her hiccups are perhaps once every 2 hours, and they're felt mostly in my guts, seeing as her head is 'way down' according to doctors, and my bladder.

I'm now a victim of stretch marks, and other nasties such as carpal tunnel (numb fingers, dead arm, etc.) and extremely horrible heartburn. I can't roll over, at all. It's more of an OUCH OUCH OUCH *boom* movement.

I have turned into Miss Nester; I clean every day. Whether it's my house or someone elses.. I can't just 'put that magazine over there', I have to clean the entire table from which I am moving it from... And then the one it's going to....

I vacuum and do dishes every day, clean her and my clothes, put them away, dust, polish, scrub....

Did I mention I'm addicted to the smell of chemicals? Pine-o-clean is a big favourite of mine, especially Eucalyptus Blossom scent... YUM. Also the fabric cleaner I have (lemon), Ajax (window cleaner), nail polish and nail polish remover, shoe polish..... Petrol...

It's quite bad but it's like as soon as I get a 'hit', my mouth waters, and my eyes sort of glaze over. It's my drug and I like it right now! Won't last for ever.

Nothing lasts forever.

Failing or falling...

I haven't written for a while. And I realise that it's not because what I was thinking and what was in my head; wasn't worth writing... It's that I didn't want to admit what I was feeling.

Down patches are the reason that the good patches, are just that.

Before I conceived this tiny baby girl (who doesn't feel so tiny any more!29weeks,people!), I used to go through very extreme emotional phases. Ecstasy, violence, anger, love, infatuation... The calm never came unless I'd downed a few glasses of cheap wine.

But since being pregnant, my emotional highs and lows are less high and low and *just past* the medium for me. I see it like this...

1.LOW--------------------------5.MEDIUM--------------------------10.HIGH

I used to hang around 1 and 10. And now the lowest I feel is 3. The highest I feel is mostly 8.

It's like I'm back on Prozac but I don't have side effects... Wait, I kinda do. Pregnancy side effects... But still.

I love that I won't fall to the very bottom. I love that even when I get hurt; I cry and it leaves me breathless. But then I breathe again. And breathing again seems to make it all better...

I guess I'm talking crap, but for those who know what I mean; well, you know what I mean.

Some days are tragic, and I get asked how my day was... I usually say "Not the best but not as bad as it could've been." Because believe me; I have had worse. Much much worse.

On a different note; thinking back to this time last year... I was living at home, and swinging back and forth between love and hate/ 1-10 on my scale.

2 years ago, I was boarding at a family friends house. I had my own space yet had people around who cared about me. Was awesome...

3 years ago, same as above! I had just moved there. I was 16.

4 years ago, 2006, I was living with my mum in Westport, NZ. I was so different... I was 15... I had left school and was pottering along, finding my way in life. Finding my feet, and heart, everything.

5 years ago, it was 2005. I can barely even think back that far... I was 4th form at high school and I didn't mind it too much... I loved my teacher he was great... I lived at dads... I had boys hanging off me (I remember I used to send 6000 texts a month! How insane is that?) and black and pink hair... Toned tanned legs... Everything was dandy!

6 years ago, 2004, was about the same as above apart from the hair... I was a blonde. And did blonde things. I went to school because I had to; just like 2005. I lost my baby, and a part of myself. I guess I've been searching for that missing puzzle piece ever since. She is not being replaced by Peach; nor will she ever be replaced. Sometimes I think that the wee gap is always meant to be there. It's her puzzle piece; air.

Life changes so much, so fast. It all seems like yesterday. My heart being broken for the first time, sneaking out for the first time, DRINKING for the first time (and falling down stairs and breaking someone's vase.. sorry...), falling in and out of lust, being bullied, forgetting to do homework, butterflies, sleep ins, a house with people in it.... FOOOOOD....

Now it's just me, falling in love with this baby of mine; the only way I know how. It is falling, not failing. Once I was seen as a failure but now I don't even care what people think. I'm focussed on her, and myself.

Promises mean everything when you're little

This song sums me up. Funny.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NQiBop5ns8k

What I miss

Since being pregnant; people always ask me if I miss going to town or if I miss drinking.

What I miss most are antihistamines, ibuprofen, and Omeprazole.

I miss Sushi.

I miss chicken, cranberry, Camembert & salad sandwiches from a certain bakery.

I miss the gym. God I miss it. I don't miss exercise; I miss putting my headphones in and gripping onto the handles of the weird machine I loved... I miss watching my heartrate go to 200, 204, 195, 209....

I loved the screaming rage in my head coming out in the form of sweat; and being swept away by my towel. I loved being thirsty and drinking freezing cold water from my drink bottle. I miss the burn in my legs and arms and watching the kilometres add up...

I can't risk it though; babies safety isn't worth risking. My heart just goes up too high (200+...way too high) and I'm already feeling weak as it is.

But I miss not sniffling and itching my face. I miss being able to get rid of a headache in minutes. Likewise with reflux.

In a way I guess I do miss town; but drama always broke out. Someone cried, someone vomited, an ex came my way, someone tried to get in my taxi and come home with me... the list goes on. I liked town for the same reason as I liked the gym; venting my anger. But I don't miss not being drunk enough to realise how gross the men were, or how drugged the 'women' (underage girls) were.

I haven't changed much. I've become a mummy. I've become the version of me who cares more about someone she hasn't even met yet. I've become my best self; who I've strived to be, for ever.

It's a pity though, that the people I love most, don't want to experience this huge change for me, with me.

I guess it's just me and you, baby.