Talking

My manager told me that my job is like teaching a baby to talk – you’re keen for them to do it but you don’t always like what they say when they can eventually speak. (I help children’s centres understand the information/data they collect about themselves so they can try to improve the services they provide).

Well, so far teaching Joni to talk has been pure joy. We just had an amazing weekend where we had loads of fun all together and Joni has been a delight. She’s really full of personality and has begun to crack herself up quite a lot, which is pretty hilarious.

Tonight before bed she sat on my lap and spontaneously decided to go through all her words and sounds. It was brilliant. She currently has the following words to offer:

Bye bye – this is definitely the most frequent and is used to alert me that she’s doing something she doesn’t want me to see, actually say bye bye and tell me she’s bored. The other day she walked into a door and shouted an angry Bye Bye to it.

No

Nonononononononoooo

Bubbah = daddy

Mummy

Goal!

Ball

Mmmaaaa = Max, little boy at the childminders

Dwack = this is a duck and quack in one

Ahhhh = said when things are being cuddled, which is most of the day.

I’m sure there are a few more, which I can’t think of right now. She’s just adorable – so expressive and seems to understand everything I say (note to self: stop swearing) she is also constantly babbling away, sometimes in whispers under her breath too!

Ahhhh love. These pregnancy hormones are making me a bit loved up today!

Energy

I’m going to whisper this, as I don’t want my pelvis to hear and spoil the party: I have some energy.

Well I must because today I helped clear my Dad’s garden (which now looks very tidy indeed) then came home, went to the supermarket, cleaned the house, cooked dinner and put Joni to bed. This is 100% more than I feel like I’ve achieved in MONTHS. I know, I know, I’ve probably over done it. But it felt good to be kind of human again.

We had a lot of fun too with our nephew Evan, who announced that he thought our baby was called Wilson Kompany. Interesting take on things!

Now, pelvis, hear this: You will not pay me back tomorrow for this, ok?

The Cost of Pregnancy and Birth

Firstly, I’d like to say that this is no way an attack on people who
provide services to pregnant women – everyone has to make a living,
and I know there is a market for it. I know there are a small number
of voluntary organisations that offer support in pregnancy and birth.
If I could I would pay for every service on offer – I have lots of
friends and relatives who provide the sort of services I’m going to
talk about and I think they do an excellent job and I understand why
they do it. In fact, I’ve seriously considered training in some of the
things I am talking about here. But …

When you become pregnant you are immersed into a world where you are
marketed at from every angle. In my experience marketeers, at their
most cynical, deal in fear and unachievable aims (oil to prevent
stretch marks? knock it off) and at their best try to inform parents
of the best/most useful products and services out there to improve
their experience of pregnancy and birth and newborn babies.

I have been thinking about what would make this second pregnancy more
bearable (aside from a butler, chef, cleaner etc etc etc). There is a
HUGE group of very eager people out there who want to sell me things
to make it better. Massage for example – I know I would benefit from a
massage as I think this perpetual headache is caused by tension in my
back and neck. But, the cheapest I’ve found is £30 for half an hour.

I have PGP (or SPD as it used to be known) and I am in almost constant
pain, some days it’s pretty severe and stops me walking/sitting/lying
comfortably. I cried in the middle of town on Thursday at the thought
of the 10 minute walk home as it hurt so much.

I know I would benefit from Pilates or Yoga for this – again, this
comes at a cost. Around £7 a class, so if I was to go every week for
the rest of my pregnancy that would be £140.

I have heard that reflexology and aromatherapy can help with this too
- again, at unobtainable prices.

I would also benefit from Physio, the physio I have been offered on
the NHS consisted of one appointment where they told me how to get out
of bed and to try to not sit still for more than 20 minutes at a time.
I was told to come back if I wanted a support belt later on in the
pregnancy and that was that. No offer of manual therapy throughout the
pregnancy. Private physio/osteopath/chiropractor would be hugely
beneficial – but the cost is too high. The Pelvic Partnership supports
women with this problem and they say that manual therapy is the only
thing that works to help with the pain during pregnancy. But it is
unavailable to most people.

Most things that would really, really help are unavailable – in their
fullness – to most women. The demand for Doulas has hugely risen in
the last few years and I have heard such wonderful, positive stories
of births involving Doulas – but only for those people who can afford
it. Similarly the NCT and others offer wonderful antenatal classes,
which are also rather expensive. I know Doula UK and the NCT offer
reduced rates to those on the lowest incomes, which is fabulous, but
it leaves people like me out. We are not poor but we are on a tight
budget. The squeezed middle, if you will.

There are so many products out there for expectant mothers – bubble
baths, books and vitamins to name but a few. They all claim to make
your pregnancy and birth less painful, more enjoyable and more of this
wonderful, beautiful, calm and natural experience that we are told
about.

Breast pumps, birth pools, special pillows etc etc etc etc all cost a
lot of money.

Now all of these things are, rightly, classed as complimentary
therapies or services. They are not vital to pregnancy or childbirth.
The woman and the child can survive without them. I know that. Plenty
of people can’t afford all these things and go through pregnancy and
birth without them. Hell, some people have complication free pregnancy
and straight forward births, or so I’m told. The NHS and NCT offer
feeding support and Children’s Centre’s do something to support most
communities. But sometimes we need more than just survival, don’t we?

I feel as though the hospital I gave birth in felt that Joni’s birth
was a ‘success’ because we were both alive at the end of it. That IS a
success, when you consider that before all the medical interventions
we needed existed we probably would have both died in the process. But
really, NHS, is that all we can expect? Life = success, Death or life
limiting damage = Failure.

Something I know I would benefit from is counseling about Joni’s
birth. To close the door on it and have a calm birth with baby 2. You
know, where I’m not refusing to listen to the heartbeat for fear of a
panic attack. As far as I know, the hospital I am registered with do
not offer any sort of birth reflection service (funnily, the hospital
I had Joni at does – I guess the demand is pretty high there?!). So,
what am I left with? Do I pay for counseling (probably a minimum of
£35 per session) to deal with this?

Counselors on this subject see it as vital to be able to go over the
previous notes with me in order to deal with how and why things
happened. Good idea – I thought. So, after sending 3 letters (by
recorded delivery) to Ashford and St Peters Hospital Trust requesting
the forms to obtain my notes, with no reply, I spent 40 minutes on
hold and 30 minutes being transferred between two people and was
eventually told that I could fill out a form and send a cheque for £50
then I would be allowed to collect my notes from the hospital (20
miles away). So, all in all, to get my notes it would cost me around
£70. Not to mention my time.

As I’ve said – we are not poor. We could find a way to get this cash
together (our house is cluttered, I sell a lot of things on eBay, we
could feed Joni less etc) and pay for it. But why?

Why should I pay for maternity notes from that hospital? I’m asking
for them because I was traumatised by the events that took place
there. I need professional help to come to terms with it. By their own
admission it was their fault that things ended up how they did. They
sighted their lack of staff and inexperienced midwives in their
defense of my complaint. And they would like me to pay £50 for the
privilege of re-living the whole thing?? I don’t want the notes for a
laugh.

What about people who simply can’t afford it? What must they do? Be
happy they merely survived? Suffer in pain? Experience an inferior
pregnancy and birth because they couldn’t afford all the things they
are told would make it all better?

Its one thing not being able to pay for something as luxurious as a
massage but quite another being told that I have to pay for something
as essential as my notes.

I guess those who can’t afford it probably have to suffer in silence.
I expect William Hague would blame them for not working hard enough.

What’s in my uterus?

Last night I could barely sleep, I kept waking up and having weird dreams about today’s scan. Like Joni’s wellies were actually in there and Hugh Bonneville was my Dad.

I was unusually anxious before the scan and cried a bit in the waiting room. We went in and the sonographer spent ages looking at things and then told us she couldn’t get a good view of the face and we needed to walk around a bit and come back. So we did and she still couldn’t see the baby’s top lip. Even with a face on view of the baby she couldn’t see it. I asked about cleft lip and she said something about only telling parents about it to prepare them anyway and i’ll have a lot more scans anyway because I have consultant led care. We were told we’d have to come back in 3 weeks. 3 WEEKS!!!

Cue panic. Cue calling my Mum. Mummy to the rescue and we had another scan this afternoon – and everything was fine. Which was good because I would have been seriously worried for 3 weeks. Cue HUGE relief. It’s not that having a baby with a cleft lip would have changed how we felt about it or anything – but we just wanted to know. Of course you want your baby to be healthy – and if they’re not then you want to know, as much as you can, what you’re dealing with. Without imagining (googling) the worst.

A little scare later, definitely little in comparison to some others, we have a very healthy little baby growing nicely.

Who is a boy. A lovely son. Going to take a while to get used to that one!

(sorry photo was taken with my phone whilst in the moving car – Chris driving!)

Craving Netball

Recently I have been yearning to exercise. Not pregnancy exercise … I mean heart beating in your eyeballs, quick sit down before you’re sick exercise.

I used to play a lot of netball. I started playing when I was 12 and it was something I did every single week, regardless of anything else in my life until I got pregnant with Joni at 24.

I played at school and for a women’s team in the evening out side of school then I played at university …

(hmm we did actually play twice a week)

Then after university I started the mighty BEARS – we played in Camden and were, undeniably, amazing.

And one of me actually playing:

I also played for a club – Grasshoppers – in Isleworth. Which I loved. Just the right level of complete and utter competitive determination! We trained once a week and played twice, so this – coupled with BEARS – meant I was playing nearly every day.

I could play netball ALL day. I love it.

After having Joni I was really keen to get back into it – I was stupid in how I approached it. Grossly overweight, hugely unfit (I had done couch to 5k to train, but still – hugely unfit), and not really recovered from the pelvic problems that blighted my pregnancy.

So I went to a training session and this happened:

So I had this for 6 weeks:

This was a total nightmare. My husband is at work for 12 hours a day and I am with Joni. Joni was 6 months old and was almost crawling but not quite. She needed to be carried everywhere. The week it started I was meant to start introducing solid food to her. She wasn’t a newborn so wasn’t content with just eating/sleeping/staring at me. She needed playing with and entertainment and I was on crutches. We did have a mountain of help from friends and family – which I am eternally grateful for – but it was a dark time for me. It was incredibly depressing and Chris and I found it very hard to communicate well through it. We have definitely both learnt from that time – but we definitely don’t want to put that learning to the test!

Did I mention we had moved house 3 days before?! Yep!

I had no urge whatsoever to play netball again after this. I took up swimming – had anyone ever broken a bone swimming?! And was ok with this.

Then I got pregnant with baby number 2 and guess what? I’ve got that netball pang. I know I won’t play for at least another year or two – but weird how I suddenly want to, isn’t it?

Second Pregnancy – Week 18

I have been trying to remember how I felt at week 18 with Joni. I think I was feeling pretty good, although I had just had the flu. Anyone who has had the flu whilst pregnant will know that it is not nice. In fact I was hallucinating that we had a woodpecker in our garden and my husband made me have a cold shower to bring my temperature down. It was pretty grim. But I had stopped feeling SOOOO ILLLLL. The last few days I have been feeling so ill that it is pretty much all I can think about. I’m too ill to work and WAY to ill to deal with Joni crying for an hour at 11pm last night. By midnight we found that only 2 things calmed her down – looking at photo of me with my Grandad when I was baby (the same Grandad who Joni absolutely ADORES now) and eventually playing with duplo in our bed. We thought about letting her fall asleep with us, but after being whacked in the eyes every time I closed them Chris thought better of it and somehow managed to get her to sleep in her own room. Kudos to that man.

I am in that stage of looking fat but not pregnant. Now, i’m not saying I didn’t look fat before but i’ve lost 5kg since getting pregnant and my stomach is definitely sizably bigger. In a kind of putting on 5kg way.

I’m determined not to gain too much weight in this pregnancy, so far i’m doing pretty well, although feeling this ill is making me just want to eat potato waffles and ice cream.

I had some tests at the doctors because I am convinced there is more going on that just regular pregnancy fatigue and aches and pains and the GP has requested that some be repeated.

We’ll see – a day in bed today seems to have really helped.

Life goes on

Something has been preying on my mind recently. I think it’s about identity – you know, who I am, where I’m from and where I’m going.

I met up with a lovely friend this recently, we made friends at university and played a lot of netball together after that (and drunk a lot of wine). We were talking about life and how important work should be. The university we went to, others may be the same, really emphasised the importance of work, your career and being successful at it. Especially if your work earned you lots of money or power. I felt that whole place was geared towards getting a job in the city and if you didn’t want to do that … Then that was weird. Well, maybe that was my insecurity – but it certainly was how I felt. Which means that as far as my university might be concerned I, so far, have failed.

Obviously I know this isn’t true. I’ve had a job that I really enjoyed, one that I enjoyed a lot less but that allowed me to have my family and move out of London. But where does this leave me?

I don’t fit in with my peers. I don’t know anyone else from university who is married or has children. The people I used to know can still afford nice clothes, holidays, houses. I don’t feel sorry that I can’t, I wouldn’t swop with them. But it does highlight a difference.

When people ask me how I am I don’t know what to say. All I want to tell them is that Joni met a little boy at the childminders today called Owen and he was ok with Joni cuddling him, and she’s so cute when she’s brushing her teeth, and she can nearly say so many words … And on and on and on.

Now, I really am not having a pity party here. I have great friends who do have children, my lovely family and wonderful husband. We live in a lovely town and it feels good. I feel free to work in a field I want to work in, different from before. I just sometimes feel different … Like I don’t fit in with the people I used to any more or something, know what I mean?