Thursday, 27 August 2009


At points over the last seven and a half months I have been guilty of almost ignoring this pregnancy. With none of the SPD which made expecting T more painful than it might have been, a new job and a manic toddler I haven't had the time or, to be honest, the inclination to pore over the Mamas & Papas catalogue and indulge in daydreams about life with a newborn again. If it wasn't for the giant football up my jumper, the constant need for new bras (how big?!) and the bottle of Gaviscon on the bedside table, life could almost be carrying on as normal.

I'm not saying I'm ungrateful of course. Every day I remember how lucky I am to be able to complete my family when I want to. I say a silent prayer of thanks when the baby kicks (less angrily than her brother did, I wonder if this means a more chilled out baby is on her way?) and have a sneaky rub, gently pushing back on the tiny elbows or heels making a bid for freedom through my abdomen, whenever I can. But until now I've been lucky enough not to have to worry about my pregnancy.

Then on Monday, en route to the shower, it happened. I spotted blood. Not lots, but it was there, red and angry and for one moment the bottom fell out of my world. It is impossible to be rational in situations like this, but whilst T played with toys in the (empty) bath, safely out of the way, I called the hospital, my husband and put a friend on standby for childcare. As advised I stuck on a maternity towel and drank two pints of ice-cold cordial to encourage the baby to move.

After an hour or so of monitoring, a dignity-shrinking series of internal exams and swabs and a few tears, the midwives at the local hospital pronounced the baby was fine and sent me on my way with instructions to rest and come back if the bleeding, by now little more than spotting, got any worse. 'Just one of those things'.

When we returned from the hospital, and my husband went back to the office, T needed a nap. I joined him, and tried to sleep off some of the worry. When he woke, I asked what he wanted to do for the afternoon, and received the reply every Mummy in need of some TLC wants to hear:

A wee wee on the potty
Cheese toast
CBeebies on Mummy's knee

We spent the afternoon snuggling, and the next day, boy at nursery, my bump and I rested up and lazed about. As the spotting tailed off and eventually stopped I made a promise to myself to celebrate these last weeks as a pregnant woman and take some time out for just me and my girl.


Muddling Along Mummy said...

Oh you poor thing - hope that you're all ok. Horrible process but sounds as if you got looked after brilliantly

Try and take things easy and enjoy the last few weeks before bump becomes baby

Take care of yourself (hugs) xxx

Beth said...

I understand wehre you are coming from. I ddin't feel connected to this 2nd pregnancy like I did with my first. And I was worried when she was born that i wouldn't connect with her. However, as soon as i heard her cry after delivery I knew that was my child and instead of continuing to be in love with her like I had with my first, I fell in love with her. Which is different than loving all along. Now 4week old Amelia Sloane sleeps at my chest snug in a sling because being close to mamma is the only place she wants to be. Funny how it all works itself out.
Hang in there, its not much longer.

Muddling Along Mummy said...

Beth - that's lovely to hear, I'm expecting No2 and worry about whether I'll fall in love with her but you reassure me that you can and do

She sounds like a poppet !

Mama B said...

Oh Beth thank you so much for your comment, it made me cry. I'm so glad you're enjoying life with two, I so hope that's how it will be for us too.

MAM, I hope you're OK too x