More rage but it’s not all bad

There is a reason why programmes like the Jeremy Kyle show are so popular, or why people buy magazines like That’s Life! or Take A Break. We love to be nosy, and we love to read all about other people’s dirty laundry. Admittedly I never watch the Jeremy Kyle show and I only pick up Take A Break if I happen to find them in the bathroom of my mother’s house, but I’m not immune from that urge, not at all. I LOVE a good gossip. I have a friend, despite the fact that we live in the same town and actually probably within about 15 minutes walking distance of each other’s houses 99% of our friendship is carried out via google chat. I relish my chats with her, she sees much more of the outside world than I do (Tesco on a Sunday does not count) so she can report back all the scandal that I’m missing out on by being eternally pregnant and housebound.

So bearing in mind that fact that people love to read about other people’s dirt…. I’m going to bitch about my brother-in-law (BIL) and his fiancée again. They have still not said word one about this pregnancy, including when we spoke to them on skype on Boxing Day. Naturally after my scan yesterday I posted the picture on Facebook. I had lots of “likes” and lovely comments from friends and family, but still nothing from the brother-in-law or his wife to be.

Then today this happened –

My sister-in-law posted a picture of the pancakes she was making for her boyfriend. The wife to be was SO impressed by this she was moved to comment. Yes she commented about the fricking pancakes. The husband had to physically stop me from typing “seriously? Are you fricking kidding me? If the baby had chocolate chips would you be more interested then???”

Instead I went on a passive aggressive rant in my status and dropped a couple of c-bombs. I then realised that my father is on my list of FB friends and I forgot to hide the post from him and I was just mortified because I’m even though I am 30 years old I still call my father “Daddy” and won’t curse in front of him. I am not sure if it’s the crazy pregnancy hormones that made me almost hulk out. It would be easy to blame that, but it’s just possible that I am at the absolute end of my tether over their utterly shitty behaviour. My best friend (with whom I share too much) had to drive over and whisk me away to Starbucks for a calming latte and an extended bitching session until the rage in me subsided and I was fit to be returned to the general population again.

I shouldn’t be shocked by anything they do. I shouldn’t really be surprised or hurt or angry. I should make it my new year’s resolution not to let them get to me any more, or maybe I should make it to be that I learn to nut up and call them on their bullshit.

Seems like an awfully negative way to end the year, so I’m not going to end it this way. I am very grateful for the lovely people in my life (who happen to agree with me that BIL is an appalling arsehole), I am grateful for the support I get from my friends and family, I am grateful for the laughs we’re having along the way.

Actually something very nice happened today. The Boy was sitting playing quietly with his new dragon castle when he turned to me and said –

“Mammy, me and you and Daddy and Squishy, we all had a lovely Christmas.”

He’s right you know.

13 and then some….

So we went for the scan this morning and had to wait for over an hour to be seen. I was handed one of those hateful sample pots by a midwife and told to go pee.

Seriously, I know universal containers are cheap, but as a method of pee collection, especially for a woman, they are dreadful. You will without a doubt end up peeing on your own hand while trying to fill them (just to clarify I googled this image. I didn’t photograph it myself). If you are very lucky and giving a specimen for microbiology analysis you might be given a sort of bright yellow funnel attachment but if you’re just a bog standard preggo, giving a bog standard sample it’s one of the white lidded pots. It’s a cruel joke, especially when you reach the stage where you can’t even reach your lady parts any more.  Anyhew I digress. I went off to fill the hateful sample bottle, had to stand outside the “Specimen Toilet” waiting for whoever was in there to finish, she came out and BLURGH!

I didn’t hear the water running in the sink, I didn’t hear the toilet flush and lo and behold I was met by a toilet bowl and seat liberally sprayed in urine with a wadge of used toilet tissue in it. I had the joyful task of flushing, cleaning the seat, washing my hands, giving a sample, flushing and washing my hands, and washing my hands again before I had to go back into the waiting room and sit opposite Little Miss No Toilet Manners for the next 45 minutes. I would have made a comment but she was wearing a tracksuit and large hoop earrings, as was her partner (well the tracksuit bit, not the earrings) and I was scared they’d hit me or something, but seriously, blurgh. Who just doesn’t flush a toilet? I mean I didn’t even hear her attempting to flush it so it’s not like there was some sort of fault. Gross.

Well eventually I got in to see the consultant and she was absolutely lovely. She did a quick scan and laughed when she found Poppler lying sleeping on the placenta like it’s a pillow. Poppler is measuring a little bigger than my dates (her scan put me at 13+4, rather than the 12+6 I think I am), so she has moved my due date to the 4th of July. I can only hope the baby doesn’t choose to arrive in the middle of our annual barbecue or I fear my in-laws may never forgive me. The husband did not react at all well to my suggestion of flame grilled placenta steaks. I still think my dates are correct but I guess it’s not an issue unless I go overdue so I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.

So that’s it, she doesn’t want to see me again until the 6th of July assuming I haven’t given birth before then.  I feel even more left to my own devices than I have before. The consultant used to see you at 32 weeks (or was it 36?) anyhew apparently they have now decided to drop these appointments, so it’s anomaly scan at 20 weeks, midwife at 28 week and I’m not sure what beyond that.

The big white thing is the placenta. Looks comfy.

12 Weeks

 

Here is how are looking at 12 weeks. I also weighed myself yesterday morning and discovered I have put on a staggering 14 pounds in the last 12 weeks, so I took myself to my nearest Slimming World class last night and signed up. I actually feel pretty nervous about it, I mean aside from the nausea which took the shine off it somewhat, it has been wonderfully liberating in some ways to spend three months eating crap, it certainly involved less effort on my part as I didn’t have to worry about the effort of meal planning or cooking. The results of three months of eating crap are plan and I’m more terrified of piling weight on than I am of going without cake, I think. I am pretty concerned about going without cake. Possibly it would be easier if the house wasn’t currently full of half the contents of a Thornton’s chocolate shop, but something has got to give and I’d rather it wasn’t the seat of my trousers when I bend over. Slimming World is at least approved for pregnancy, so it’s no crazy dieting, just healthy eating. My best friend (with whom I share too much) thinks I’m a bit crazy to go and pay someone to tell me what I already know about healthy eating, but it’s not that, it’s the accountability that I need and the fear of being weighed in public.

The scan is on Friday. I’m feeling quite nervous about it, largely because the sickness seems to have faded away, and rather than rejoicing that I feel more human I’m just feeling paranoid that it’s a sign something has gone wrong. Hopefully it is just rampant paranoia. I will post on Friday anyway with an update.

In the meantime I hope you all have had a very Merry Christmas.

11 weeks & 2 days

I may have felt some movement yesterday, or I may have needed to fart. Frankly at this stage it’s 50/50 that it could have been either one, okay maybe I’m exaggerating, or downright lying, baby movement is a possibility, breaking wind is an inevitability.

I am starting to feel a little more human though. There’s still some nausea but it’s falling to acceptable levels (or maybe by comparison with how it was last week in the grip of the norovirus anything is an improvement). I am feeling like I can start tackling that whole healthy eating thing though. I feel under a lot of (imagined or self-generated) pressure to stop stuffing myself to the gills with crap and reverse the weight gaining trend. I accept that a certain amount of weight gain is not only acceptable but highly desirable in pregnancy, but I’ve exceeded that. I haven’t actually weighed myself in a few weeks (since the booking appointment) but I can almost feel my ass and thighs spreading as my stomach creeps outwards.

Yesterday was something of a last hooray crap-eating wise, today has at least started better. I had a bagel with a small amount of reduced fat cream cheese and some smoked salmon for breakfast, a banana for a snack, and some soup and crackers for lunch. Dinner is going to be a very healthy stir fry with some lean chicken. It’s the kind of diet I thrived on in Weight Watchers (just to clarify I am on maintenance points) so hopefully I can kiss goodbye the real excess poundage and the bloating and delightful constipation.

I got the appointment in the post today for my 12 week scan. It’s on the 30th of December (so I’ll be a day shy of 13 weeks). Where I live all antenatal care is consultant led. They’ve given me a different consultant to the one I had the last two times and I’m a bit nervous about that as my old consultant was very supportive of home birth. I don’t want to come up against someone who could be hostile, largely because I’m not sure I have the energy to have the home birth argument for the 3rd time, but also while the nausea is fading the raging irrationality and mood swings have not. I was at a Christmas concert last night and during the interval they were handing out mulled wine, shortbread biscuits and mince pies. I got into the queue to get a mince pie for my eldest daughter, while all I wanted was a shortbread biscuit. Finally I got to the head of the queue some a guy cut in front of me and took the last biscuit. I actually had to stop myself from swearing at him “You lousy son of a motherless fuck! CHOKE ON IT!!!!!!!! CHOKE ON IT!!!!!!!”

Where was I?

Oh yes, so in just under 2 weeks we’ll get to see Poppler again. Won’t that be nice?

And finally – here is the promised 11 week bump picture. In future I shall take all pictures myself, my husband is RUBBISH at it, including the fact that he didn’t think to tell me that my dress was sitting weird at the back. I begged him to take lots of photos during Squish’s birth. I think I got one that was unusable.

See? HUGE! and given that the baby is roughly the size of a lime (utterly knackered stomach muscles aside) this has got to owe a lot to my penchant for cheese and onion flavour crisps.

Quarter of the way there

10 weeks now and a quarter of the way there. Feeling much calmer this week as though my hormones may be settling a little. I thought I was having an awful resurgence of morning sickness on Sunday night but it turned out to be norovirus, the second stomach bug I’ve had in as many weeks. It’s making it’s way around the family nicely too, Squishy came down with it on Monday morning and The Boy woke us this morning by coming into our room and promptly throwing up on the bed. Not really what you want at 5 in the morning but it goes with the territory.

So I apologise for being quiet of late, still feeling a bit rough and cramp tastic so I will sign off here. It’s nice to know I’ve reached a bit of a milestone even if I’m worrying sick well about being sick. I will try to post a bump picture soon.

Reasons why my brother in law is an ass

I’m torn. On the one hand I want this blog to be a realistic reflection of my experience of pregnancy but on the other, I don’t want to be one big negative extended bitching session. The big problem is pregnancy hormones make me want to bitch, they seem to remove the inhibitions I have the rest of the time about letting people know when they are annoying me. I’m a very passive person you see, I avoid confrontation as much as possible and tend to quietly stew about things that are getting to me. I find the quietly stewing part so much harder when pregnant.

I have a complicated relationship with some of my in-laws. We didn’t get off to a great start. Some of them were quite hostile to me actually. I was nothing but friendly but got a lot of cold-shouldering, no interest at all in the Boy either when I was pregnant with him or after he was born, and a total lack of involvement when it came to organising my wedding. I asked one sister-in-law if her daughter would be a flower girl for us. She didn’t say no, she jut never replied at all. Things only changed on my wedding day, suddenly they started to treat me like I was actually a person. Just to be clear I’m not including my husband’s parents in this, it was his siblings that were always the issue. One of his siblings, his brother, continues to be a bit of an issue.

He was especially nasty when we first got together. He was also the one to greet the news of our pregnancy with Squishy with the comment “You two need to learn how to use condoms.”

He’s greeted the news of this pregnancy with….. nothing. Absolutely no comment, no congratulations, nothing. Not one word from him or his fiancée. I mean seriously, I commented on a photo she posted on Facebook of their Christmas tree for Christ’s sake, but they have said absolutely nothing about my scan picture. The husband theory is that his brother is huffing because we are due in July, the same month that his brother is getting married, and that we’ve stolen their thunder. I kind of think brother-in-law can suck it up, he chose to get engaged on my 30th birthday (which was a Wednesday, so an odd night to go out to dinner and propose) and they’ve booked their wedding for the day after our anniversary, because they met on the 18th of April… so it makes sense to get married on the 18th of July…. apparently….

I don’t know if he is huffing, but I think it’s pathetic. To be honest I think rather than being annoyed about us being due a few weeks before his wedding I think he’s annoyed that we’ve beaten him to the first properly “legitimate” grandchild (I was pregnant with Squish when the husband and I married). He’s rushed his wedding because they are keen to start a family and have to do things “right” including having the first legitimate grandchild because he’s a pathetic suck-up. Ah maybe I’m coming across as a raging bitch here but if I listed the whole litany of things that this particular brother-in-law has said or done to me and the husband over the last couple of years you would completely understand why. He is a nasty piece of work, a bully, and the sort of person who takes great delight in putting other people down, embarrassing/humiliating them, making them the butt of jokes to make himself look big. I can’t bear being around him, but despite all this I have remained nothing but unfailingly polite around him.

Still I guess I am hurt and I’m angry, and I’m so tempted to say something, except I think it would just ignite a feud with the rest of the in-laws and since I get to avoid brother-in-law 99% of the time (he moved to the states about a year and a half ago) I can maybe let it go, as after all I do have to spend quite a bit of time with the rest of them.

Hopefully my rage will have eased before he rolls into town in July and I’ll be a in a chilled out, blissed out Earth mama state, or I may just keep my placenta so I can throw it at him.

Let’s simplify things by complicating them

I booked in with the midwives yesterday. At some point between booking in when pregnant with Squishy and now they’ve decided that paper and pen is horribly outmoded and have introduced a computerised system, which is great I’m sure…. except… well… it took an hour and a half to book in because the midwife had to stop every few minutes and delete something, mutter at the screen, furrow her brow about why it wasn’t working, leave the room to get help, come back, try again, get more help etc. I think Squishy’s booking appointment took 20 minutes. I preferred that system, it didn’t leave me horribly anxious that my babysitter would be pulling their hair out over me disappearing for around two hours. And that’s it, I won’t see the midwives again until 28 weeks, so that’s a few days after my 31st birthday in April. In the meantime I’ll have two hospital appointments, my dating scan at 12-14 weeks and my anomaly scan at 21-23 weeks. They really do leave you to your own devices once you’re multiparous which suits me just fine. Right now it looks like a home birth is just dandy too, on paper anyway, assuming everything continues to go well.

After the booking appointment I went and got the flu vaccine. It’s a little controversial I know. I’ve debated with myself about whether or not to do it (I didn’t get it during the swine flu outbreak, but then I HAD swine flu so I guess I didn’t need it by the time they offered it to me). I keep thinking about a thread I read on Fertilityfriend.com about whether or not people would get the vaccine, one woman said she had gotten it during her last pregnancy. She’d had a scan at 10+2, had the vaccine a few days later and discovered that her baby died within a day of getting of the injection. I KNOW vaccines are safe, I KNOW it’s good science, I vaccinate my kids, but I can’t help but worry what if I am wrong?

After the flu clinic I was off to the dentist. It really was a busy day. I had the midwife, the flu clinic nurse and the dentist all ask me “Is this your first pregnancy?” they all looked rather nonplussed when I said “it’s my fourth” (well technically sixth but I didn’t get in to that, except with the midwife who needed to know for her records). Apparently I don’t look old enough to have four kids. I’ll take that as a compliment! Though the husband was quick to point out to me that when the new baby is the same age as our eldest is now, our eldest will be twenty. Holy Crap.

Symptoms update – the boobs are hurting less. I don’t feel the need to scream quite so much when breastfeeding which is joy, though it did give me a few days of paranoia.

Indigestion – I am living on Zantac right now (well Tesco’s own version I-Can’t-Believe-It’s-Not-Zantac). I had a horrible bout of trapped wind last night, it was really sharp stabbing pain between my shoulder blades. I actually had to ask the husband to burp me. He was patting me on the back (probably a little harder than he needed to, to be honest, but he’s smarting over a weekend of me being a Raging Bitch apparently). Squishy ran over and said “hey daddy! Get your hands off my mammy!” I laughed and the husband panicked “what if this is her first memory and she thinks I’m beating you up?”

Frequent urination – I HATE this one. I especially hate it because it is winter and so very cold to get out of bed, the cat usually steals my spot on the bed, the bathroom is in between the two little one’s bedrooms which makes flushing a sort of roulette experience. I do have an ensuite bathroom but the shower leaks and the landlord has refused to fix it so right now it’s just a rather large closet where the kids Christmas presents are hidden.

Still a moody, mardy cow, and very randomly angry with the world. Last night I dreamt I was having a huge row with a friend of a friend who irritates me by endlessly posting photos of themselves pouting on facebook.

And finally –

I think we’ve finally come up with a nickname for the baby. We’ve had a few suggestions from people as to what they think the scan photo looks like, including –

A potato

A kidney bean

 A monster munch crisp. No flavour specified, possibly pickled onion.

A Birdseye Chicken Dipper – like a chicken nugget but slightly fancier.

And finally a Poppler, the delicious infants of the inhabitants of planet Omicron Persei 8 on Futurama. So for now the baby is known as Poppler.