Questions

People are asking me every day, am I excited?

Is it rhetorical? I don't quite understand anymore why people ask me.

"You must be so excited!" Well yeah, but I can't quite jump up and down about it. I can barely walk now at 38+2.

The guilt for not feeling 'so excited I can't contain myself', is overwhelming. It's like, I've gotten so used to her, so used to loving her... So used to not seeing her but feeling her. So used to not hearing her, but knowing what she's doing.

If I was to have her in my arms right now... I don't know how I'd cope. If I was told I wouldn't have my 'body' back, I'd freak out and not know what to do. And by 'body' I don't mean toned legs and tummy. I mean no dead arms, no painful joints, no swollen legs, arms and face...

Getting up to go to the loo 3 times a night used to be funny and somewhat exciting because it was the only real 'annoying' thing that I was having to deal with. But now I can't get out of bed without screaming in pain, and getting back in is even worse. Falling back asleep; finding that perfect position where my arms WON'T go dead... where I can breathe, and not squash my baby... I don't know.

I'm fully adjusted to all the changes but it doesn't mean I enjoy them. I accept they're all normal. I just don't like them ;).

I can't wait to hold her, and see her eyes open... I can't wait to count her fingers and toes. I can't wait to feed her and hear her snore (newborns have the cutest little snuffley snore. It's not so cute when you can't sleep though), I can't wait to see her clothes on her. And to see her in her moses basket, cot, and activity ring.

There are so many things I'm excited for but I already love her... It's not like being excited for a first date, for example, even though I haven't met her. It's hard to explain but all mums will know what I mean. It's odd, and surreal, knowing that any day now she will actually be 'out'. She will breathe for the first time, and make her first noises. And YES I will fall in love, over and over, every day will be exciting for her and I, and her dad.

But not the type of excitement that keeps you up at night thinking you can hear sleigh bells... not scary movie peek-through-your-hands type excitement and not unwrapping a weirdly shaped present type excitement...

It's all new and fricking 'WOOHOO' but it's also unknown territory. We all know babies cry, but until you're a mum you don't know what your babies cry will do to you. You don't know how you'll react; whether you'll block your ears or cry with her. We all know new babies sleep a lot but then we also know when they're awake; they need something right then and there.

I'm a realist in the worst/best of situations. I'm not negative, I just know that some things don't always go perfectly. I'm as prepared as I can be; for the best and worst outcome. But you don't know till it happens, right?

I've had people throw advice at me from left, right, centre, above, below and bloody diagonally. If there's something to say, they'll say it. But what first time mums (or I) appreciate most is NO advice; and little confidence boosters. My mum is best at it especially when it comes to this wee bubby of mine. I'll bring up a concern with her, or I'll tell her what someone else has said to me that has upset me; and she will quietly say that it doesn't need to be worried about until the time comes, or AT ALL.

The last month, I have gone downhill so fast in regards to my 'health'. No, pregnancy is not a disability. It's a blessing. BUT, in reality, it also fucking hurts some of us.

I don't have a partner to rub my back/tummy/neck/shoulders/legs/feet every night, or to cook me tea, or clean up for me, or to just genuinely reassure me. And I hear other pregnant women going on and on about how much pain they're in (when we're all in it) but they're the ones with partners/husbands who they can lean on. They have it so much easier than us single mummas. I wish I could slap them sometimes; not because I'm jealous but because they don't realise how hard it would be (compared to their current 'awful' situation) if they were even in a slightly different situation.

It seems a lot of people in my life have very little faith or confidence in me. It just proves they don't know me at all and it's kind of funny but also very upsetting.

Anyway, babies room is now ready for her. Her clothes are washed and put away (the drawers honestly barely close and it's a slight worry but never mind), her hospital bag is packed, her bottles are clean and sterile just in case I can't breastfeed. Her linen is all clean and folded, hidden away in the spare room with all the other things we can't use straight away like her car seat for when she's older.

My hospital bag is 60% packed. I just need to put clean clothes in it (I'm still wearing some so I just wash them every day and put them back in in case I go into labour that night) and charge my iPod, update my labour/birth playlist... And pack speakers for the bag because headphones will not go well in the birthing pool ; )

Today I bought myself my first new pair of shoes throughout the whole pregnancy. I'm amazed. Usually I'm a size 5 or at most a 6. Today I had to buy a pair of size 7 moccasins. That's how swollen my feet are. It's not the prettiest but I'm EXCITED to have my feet back to normal and to be able to feel the bones in my ankles. My ankles are non existent and look horrid so it's a good thing it's Winter and I can wear long pants.

The hospital tour went well. It's funny thinking I was born there and my Peach will be born there too (fingers crossed, people!!!). It's a really lovely atmosphere but far out, it's boiling there. I got all itchy and broke out in a rash under my clothes. I used to always get rashes from heat and stress so I knew it was coming but jeez louise. I suppose it has to be hot for babies sake but I can tell you now, my sliding door in the room in the ward will be open 24/7 while I'm there (shh).

It's 1.30am and I really could do with some sleep but I don't see it happening. I've got a foot jammed into my bra wire at present. Not very comfy and I think it's her way of telling me to go get into bed. So I will.

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