Tag Archives: breastfeeding

We did it!

I woke up on Tuesday morning feeling quite emotional. My hips were aching, I’d been contracting on and off and I felt thoroughly fed up. I decided to ring the midwives and ask if they would consider doing a stretch and sweep, only to be told they wouldn’t consider it before 40 weeks (I’d been told 39 the week before). I hung up the phone and burst into tears before finally pulling myself together and deciding that I needed to get out of the house for a while. I rang my friend’s hair salon and made an appointment to go in and get a long over-due chop and to get my crazy eyebrows tamed at the first time. Good timing too because when I got home I started to have contractions again. I kept an eye on them for a few hours, but they were still fairly irregular. When I had an hour of them coming five minutes apart I decided to ring Fetal Assessment to get checked out. The husband and I headed up and the minute I set foot inside the place everything stopped, the midwife examined me and the conclusion was I had a UTI so all I could do was go home.

On Wednesday, the husband and I went for dinner as I was figuring it could be our last chance to do something before we became a family of six.

I felt very niggly that evening and certain that something was going to happen. I woke up several times in the night convinced my water had broken was about to break just to discover that, no, of course it hadn’t.

On Thursday morning I looked around my bare kitchen (I hadn’t managed to go grocery shopping the previous weekend so we were running on the dregs). I decided what I needed to do was a big shop and lots of batch cooking so the family would be well taken care of when I did eventually go into labour. I text my brother at about 2.30 to ask him if he could watch the little ones while I went to Tesco and I was sitting on the sofa waiting for his reply when I felt an almighty pop and a gush.

I’d been told to go to hospital straight away if my waters broke because of the GBS so I rang the husband to tell him he needed to come home from work. I started to panic a bit because I’d gotten behind on the laundry and the only trousers I had that were dry were the ones I was wearing when my waters went! The Squishy one was following me around while I was making phone calls and heard me telling the husband that my waters had broke and I was going to phone my mum, she looked at me all earnestly and asked “are you going to phone Granny so she can fix your waters?”

My waters have always gone in labour before so I couldn’t believe how much there was! I left a trail from the kitchen, all down the hall and a huge puddle in the bathroom (Squishy at this point was following me with a mop!)

Once the husband and my mum got home, I managed to find a dry pair of leggings. I put on three pads to try and contain the never-ending fluid, and we headed up to fetal assessment. They examined me and said I was about 4cm. Contractions hadn’t started yet so they wanted to take me to the labour ward and start me on the drip. I was just gobsmacked, everything I had read had led me to believe I could have a totally normal labour with the gbs, the only difference was I would need the antibiotics but now they wanted to stick me on the ctg for constant monitoring and were pushing for me to take syntocinon. I started to panic a bit, I had such a bad experience getting induced with my first, that drip is a hateful invention and I could just see the situation spiralling out of control. I said to them I wanted the chance for contractions to start on their own, and for the next two hours I had a parade of doctors and midwives coming in telling me how I was putting the baby at risk and it would probably turn transverse if I didn’t start the drip and I needed to make a decision right now. They also left a student midwife in the room constantly so I could get bugger all privacy to discuss the options with the husband or my mum. I finally started to have contractions on my own but the machine wasn’t really picking them up so the midwife was very dismissive that anything was happening at all, it probably took her an hour to believe me.  They moved me to a different room and at that point they started to accept that I had gone into labour on my own and stopped hassling me about the drip. Being on the ctg was a total pain in the arse though, my movement was restricted and they kept shifting me around to pick up the heartbeat, in the end the put a clip on the baby’s scalp. When the contractions did start they came thick and fast and I was holding on to the gas and air for dear life. I was sitting on the ball, holding the tubing and I found it really helpful at the height of a contraction to lift my head up. The entonox made me a little giggly, I got this image in my head that I must have looked and sounded like a trumpeting elephant every time I lifted my head up into the air.

It didn’t seem like long before I started to shake and I said to the husband “I think I’m in transition”, then I totally lost it. I had been kneeling over the back of the bed but suddenly I flipped myself over (apparently I almost fell out of the bed, it was just the judicious pressing of the husband’s knee into the small of my back that stopped me hitting the floor). It took about two pushes that I had no control over and she was born with me letting out an almighty roar. I was just shaking repeating thank god that’s over thank god that’s over. I got the major shakes again and it took me about 20 minutes to calm down and stop shaking and gibbering.

Arya Beibhinn made her debut appearance at 9.20 pm on the 28th of June, weighing 7lbs exactly, after a recorded labour of 1hr 45 mins. She started feeding straight away and it seemed like not long passed before they moved me to the postnatal ward and chucked the husband out. I didn’t sleep a wink on Thursday night even though Arya slept well, but I was just too wired and it was too noisy.

We are home now and settling in nicely. She’s a little bit jaundiced so we are having some issues with her being quite sleepy and difficult to feed, but I feel so blessed to have her here.

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Come on lil eggy.



 This is the OPK I did last night. I’m fairly certain it’s a positive. I repeated it this morning and again this afternoon and I can see the surge fading out again. Right now I’m having some niggling pains in my right side which I hope are ovulation. I can’t help but be excited. I have read so much stuff about how you’re more fertile after a miscarriage and I hope it’s true. It’s certainly true in my case that I conceived my daughter right after my last miscarriage and she’s a very healthy almost two year old who disrupted our Jo Jingles music class this morning with loud demands for “boob!”

I really have to come up with another word for that.

But as I said I’m excited. I’m excited to think that we have another shot at this and I maybe don’t have to wait around weeks and weeks to ovulate again. I have cut down pretty drastically on the amount that dd is nursing, it’s maybe two or three times a day now and doesn’t tend to be at all after about 3 o’clock in the afternoon. I think my hormones are stabilising, my BBT hasn’t been as rocky, though I have been having to deal with estrogen induced acne. It’s hard to feel sexy when your face has broken out like a teenager’s. It all feels more like it did when I had a normal regular cycle all those years ago. I used to have one of those nice entirely predictable 28 day cycles, the only time it ever threw me was the month before I conceived my son, and aren’t I glad about that?

I’m also a little glad that I don’t have to face endless weeks of SMEPing.

All that remains now is to see if my temperature rises and I can confirm ovulation. I am thinking that maybe I will stop temping once ovulation has been confirmed. I want to at least try and stay a little relaxed and not agonise over what the thermometer is telling me. I’d also like to try and hold out on testing. For the start I don’t want to spend stupid amounts of money on tests again when ultimately they have no effect whatsoever on the outcome.

So fingers crossed for me that there is an egg on the way out and that it gets to make a nice new friend when it does, and in 9 months we get to say our family is complete.


I think I’m safe in saying this is a BFP. 14 DPO today and I think I might start believing it. It’s strange, I wasn’t a bit backward about posting the details of ovulation tests and cervical mucus but I debated with myself about whether or not to post these positive tests. I guess there is a part of me that is scared something will be wrong and it would be very hard to come back and post about that outcome, but I’m going to be positive.

This is a positive test and there is a distinct possibility that come May I will be holding a brand new, squishy little baby. I am so excited and it’s extra nice to get it confirmed today because it’s my husband’s birthday.

Next I want to confirm it with a digital test. I guess it’s just nice to see the word Pregnant spelt out without a shadow of a doubt, then it’ll be off to my doctor to confirm it with them before making my booking appointment with the midwives.

Stick baby, stick!

Today I Will Be Mostly Trying PMA

This is going to be a short and sweet post.

The spotting stopped last night and I haven’t had any more since (YET – trying to balance realism with optimism here).  Today I’m going to try some PMA and instead of working myself into a frenzy over a possible luteal phase defect, I’m just going to accept that when nursing things can get a bit funky (in a messed up sense, not a James Brown sense).

I’ve upped my dose of vitamin b6 and I’m going with watchful waiting. As the great Doris Day once sang “what will be will be,” and my stressing over it will have absolutely no bearing on the outcome.

5DPO and counting….

Operation Boob Reduction

Yesterday was day one of, well not weaning exactly, but significantly reducing the amount of time my youngest spends nursing. I was quite intimidated at the prospect,  and from the way the morning went, rightly so.

She had ended up in the bed with us the night before so there were several nursing sessions throughout the night, big long protracted ones where she used me as a human dummy.

We got up at 6.30 yesterday morning so I decided her last nursing session would be the only one that morning and I wasn’t at home to any more before 12 o’clock. She was not happy about this arrangement. There was a lot of bribery, tears and tantrums (not all by her). Finally my best friend rescued us by arriving in her car to take us all out to a soft play centre as we hoped this would distract the baby from her demands for “enuff!”

And it worked. It was 12.30 before she climbed onto my lap again and took a decent 10 minute feed. I then managed to stretch it to 4 o’clock before the next one and then finally she had one more before bed.

Day 2 now and I’m hoping to repeat the pattern, and hoping that it’s enough to make a difference.

I should have just bought a big Toblerone….

Well the verdict is in.

Urine – negative.

Beta HCG – negative.

I asked what the level was. 1-5 is considered not pregnant, 5-20 is considered possible pregnant, re-test, above 25 is pregnant.

My level? <1.

So I can safely conclude that the pound shops tests were shite and their manufacturers are bastards.

I have a bit of rage going on about the whole thing, not least because I texted my hubby to tell him the news and that I was quite upset and he responded with “I think I have a mouth ulcer, it’s really sore. Do we have any bonjela at home?”

So I am big fat back to square one and even more annoyed with myself because I haven’t taken my temperature or any of the agnus castus or evening primrose oil or anything (apart from folic acid) for the last few days.

I feel like a proper fool.

I’m really beginning to think that maybe I do need to wean my daughter, or at least drastically cut back on the amount that she is feeding. We night weaned a while ago but it has occurred to me that she’s nursing maybe as much as 15 times a day aside from that. It seems like every time my ass hits a seat she’s clambering on to my knee to demand “eeenuff!” (It’s my belief that she calls it this because I’ll sometimes break the latch, sit her down and say you’ve had enough). The sessions don’t last very long, maybe just a couple of minutes but still, we can fit six or seven of them in before lunch.

I don’t really know how to break the habit. I’ve tried offering her alternatives like juice or fruit (we even tried hot chocolate once) but all I get is a stern “no” and then further demands for “enuff”. I think perhaps I may just have to never sit down in front of her for a fortnight or so. Failing that maybe I could run away for a week and hope she forgets about it in the meantime.

I am so upset. I did have my hopes up. I did start quietly making little baby plans in my head. I liked sitting with my husband a couple of nights ago and chatting about the practicalities of having a new baby, about names we liked, about how we’d stay team yellow this time or whether or not I’d have my third home birth or go the new midwifery unit near by.

It’s shitty to have all that taken away and to still be no closer to having it. I’m a little scared that I will never have it again.

I could do with a big toblerone about now.


TTC makes babies – also craziness

I went to my doctor yesterday and had a chat about everything that has been going on the last few days. It was an odd experience. It was the same doctor that I saw last time but a totally different experience. She asked me when I had my last period and I told her “December…. 2008.” She seemed very surprised and asked why that was, so I explained about the intervening pregnancy and the 21 months of breastfeeding that followed. I thought she knew that, I mean we had a chat about it all last time I was there. She then told me I’d have to wean my youngest if I was pregnant because I couldn’t tandem feed, though at my last appointment she had asked me if I’d thought about tandem feeding. Odd.

Anyway she agreed to do a beta HCG blood test and I am now patiently waiting for the results.

I am not holding out much hope. I did more tests this morning and they are negative. This time it was a tesco test (I believe they are 25 mIu) and then a First Response (which I believe are 40 mIu). Both negative. I’d take photos but my son threw my camera across the kitchen yesterday and it’s quite possibly beyond repair. Anyway, I’m not sure that taking a photo would help as I’d only spend 20 minutes zooming in and inverting the colours and giving myself line eyes. I expect that the beta hcg test is going to be negative. Of course I hope that it isn’t, but I suspect that it will be.

The teeny part of me that is still hopeful has been inventing all sorts of fantasies where it turns out that I am pregnant. It’s shouting at me and waving it’s arms and saying “you’ve been feeling sick!” (have I? it could be entirely psychosomatic), “you’ve been very congested! and even had a nose bleed, that never happens!” (true progesterone can constrict or is it dilate??? the blood vessels in the nasal passages making you feel all stuffed up) “you’ve had cramping!” (maybe I just need more fibre?) “you’ve been so tired lately!” (well of course I’ve been tired. I’ve been cleaning every nook and cranny of my house every day for almost 4 weeks now, and caring for 2 toddlers, a 9 year old and occasionally a 7 year old nephew, and that’s not even counting the mental exhaustion from taking tests, staring at tests, googling things about tests, posting on forums about tests and emailing my best friend photos of tests).

The final thing my irrational brain is throwing up is “what if the pound shop tests were super, super sensitive? like 6 mIU, and even then if it’d doubled you’d only have 12 mIU, or if they were 10 mIu, it would only have doubled to 20 and still be below the 25 mIU of all those other tests you bought….”


I still think it was the asparagus you know.

I actually googled “can asparagus cause a false positive?”

I found some forums where people said “yes! yes! it can!”

I will report back later on the beta hcg results but in the meantime my scientific mind is just dying to know. I’m going to buy some more asparagus and some more of those pound shop tests and see what happens.

A girl needs a hobby!