Just a brief blog today because I'm cheerie and too often I come on here for a good whingeing sesh. First up, my own midwife has returned from her gallivanting and I didn't need to see the evil witch with the lack of social skills again at my appointment today. Added to which, she didn't want to stick anything sharp in me - always a bonus. Secondly, the sun is shining for the second consecutive day and despite the stitchy pains I did make it back into the office this morning: bye bye for now oh ye cabin fever. Lastly (well I don't want to go on too much in case you get jealous) baby is the right size and head down. So, all is well with the world and I wanted to share as I sit here with my cuppa tea and a macaroon cookie.
I can't tell you what a difference it makes to see a midwife who puts you at ease. I had a list of questions as long as my arm last month and the woman I saw was so poe-faced that I didn't dare ask any of them! Anytime I said anything by way of conversation that wasn't a direct question she just didn't respond. I asked a sensible question (or so I thought) about the potential side-effects of the anti-D injection (which I had to have, ironically, because I'm a universal donor!) and the response was a shrug, a slight pause, and "It hurts?" Yes indeed, her response came complete with question mark worthy inflection. I heard "Why would you ask such a stupid question?" I hated her more because she was right and it was quite frankly the nippiest jab I've had ever. Really hope I don't happen across that woman when I'm in labour.
She might say something infuriating or informative like 'this will hurt'
and I won't be able to hold my tongue.
Anyway, my own regular midwife doesn't have a problem talking, in fact sometimes I struggle to get a word in sideways but that being said I always feel able to ask ridiculous questions of her. Munchkin decided to demonstrate her affection for said midwife by giving her a good solid belly-lurch inducing kick when she dared try to work out which way up she was.
And so both of us have done a little midwife bashing today. Here's hoping post macaroon sugar rush, that munchkin is as cheerie as me too.
Monday, 21 May 2012
Wednesday, 16 May 2012
Work has been the epicentre of my life for some weeks now. I have been eating, sleeping and breathing project plans and mammoth spreadsheets. And this has been fine. It’s what I do and I do it best under pressure. I did take one day out to attend the wedding of a dear friend, someone I lived with for four years while at University and that was a fabulous day. She looked amazing, the wedding party looked beautiful, the venue was stunning and the groom looked happy and oddly, much more relaxed than he had at the wedding of my other Uni flatmate last November where he had been performing best man duties.
So, it’s been a busy month and the flat, this blog, my friends and poor MC have been sadly sadly neglected. However, project crunch time landed over the weekend and things are now OK bar the expected teething problems. After so many twelve hour days in the run up to completion date my back was definitely feeling the strain on Monday so I decided to take a much needed day off away from the desk yesterday.
The flat is a little pongy at the moment because MC had spent the weekend glossing in the nursery so yesterday I headed off out and about early doors. Really enjoyed a swim though I have to say, one tires quickly at 7 months pregnant! This isn’t helped by not being able to take in huge gulps of oxygen with the baby taking up some space up under my ribcage. It never ceases to amaze me though how normal I feel in the water: when I say normal I of course mean ‘non-pregnant heifer’. It really hit me when I tried after only 45 minutes to haul my now 12 stone carcass out of the water, up some creaky stainless steel steps, just how heavy I’ve been feeling lately. Every step up that ladder was like a bag of cement being heaped back on my knees and shoulders. I suspect I may be spending much of my time from here on in a swimming pool!
The rest of my day was spent shopping, bussing it round Edinburgh, dropping off my little brother’s birthday card (with cakes), visiting a friend and her baby boy (who has just got to that super cute stage where they want to join in the conversation as they explore their voice box), eating cake and making chilli nachos (which in my humble opinion were very good, though as MC pointed out, perhaps not as stupendous as those served in The Waiting Room in Morningside where they do drown the whole plate in melted cheddar). It was a fantastic day and I fell into bed happily exhausted at about 10 o’clock, sucking down some Rennies for the heartburn which is now making a daily appearance in my world from late afternoon onwards.
Other new symptoms since I last posted… did I mention the heartburn? First time it happened I had no idea what the hell was wrong with me. I’ve never had it before in my life. Felt like I’d expect my throat and oesophagus to feel after spending a week with winter vomiting virus. (Too much information I hear you cry – moving swiftly on.) My hands and fingers have started to swell towards the end of the day. I’ve had to take my wedding ring off because the other day I had to pry it off only to find it had cut red marks into my finger.
The strangest new development though has to be Braxton Hicks. I first noticed them at the end of last week. In all honesty, I can’t say exactly when they started because they don’t hurt and I only really noticed them over the weekend if it was happening and I tried to stand up or move around at the time. If you imagine you have a large piece of tubigrip round your middle and that someone is pulling it tighter than it’s meant to go. It’s a little uncomfortable but I did some reading and it’s all normal and healthy for your body to start practicing. Some people notice their belly hardening up on and off from 12 weeks.
When I got up this morning after my adventures yesterday I was a little uncomfortable down my right side and I put it down to round ligament pain, which isn’t really anything new, though it’s not bothered me much through the endless hours of being sat still at my desk. However, bout twenty past 7 the Hicks thing kicked in and I felt like the right side of my belly was going to split in two in a straight line from my rib to my hip bone. I called the people in the know for some advice and was told to pretty much sit still, take paracetamol and call them immediately if I noticed any signs of early labour or regularity in the contractions.
So, here I am, catching up on correspondence with the world (and trying to stay in touch with work but I have to say my baby netbook hates outlook express and is very uncooperative). The flat could really do with a clean and there’s ironing needs done but I’m to sit here and be good. It’s not easy. I wish MC had made good on his threat to take the iron to work with him today because I swear to the man upstairs the damn thing is calling my name! My boss called me back to say that at least I had good timing in starting to fall apart as the worst of the project is over but I have to say the timing is indeed very very bad. MC talked me into cancelling our Virgin TV package from 12th May – I can’t even watch daytime TV. I’m going to have to bite the bullet and learn how to work LoveFilm on demand. Perhaps I may make a start on baby curtains for the nursery, I can do that sat down if I can just fudge the crawling around the floor bit with the measuring tape.
What can I say, I’m rubbish at doing nada. I’d say if you’re in the neighbourhood come visit me, but that might just distress me because the dusting needs done. I wonder if anyone has ever written a book on how pregnancy impacts OCD?
Anyway, to all the people who told me I was working too much and that the stress wouldn’t be good for me or munchkin, I can now say definitively, it was the day off that did me in!