All of the feelings

I have a confession to make. I am 34 weeks pregnant. And I feel done. I am starting to get uncomfortable, cranky, and I have very little patience, and my body is getting that late-pregnancy-heaviness, and I am so tired. 

I feel so incredibly sorry for this little one in my tummy. Because it feels like this poor baby has nobody in the world who is excited about its arrival. I know mostly it's probably just a third baby thing, it's hard for Shane or I to get that same level of excitement, when you just know what's coming, you know how how tired you're going to be, and you know how hard it is. It's also especially hard to get excited when you spend so much of your time shouting at two other tiny humans, and ferrying them to and from kindy, and school, and ballet, and swimming, and trying to take care of all of their physical and emotional needs, and making sure they are going to cope with another tiny human joining their family. But oh, I feel guilty.

I just feel like this was a really, really poor choice on my part. Not because of this baby. Oh no. This baby I have no doubt is an amazing little human who deserves to be born, and has so much value and worth. But, surely it deserves a better mother?

I was going through the folding soup residing on my bedroom floor today, thinking "you're about to add another persons laundry to this mess you stupid woman!" My house just cannot be clean. I want to nest and make sure I have clothes and a cot and stuff for a baby, but I'm too busy half-assing all my regular housework. And sleep? Oh lord, sleep!? My kids sleeping habits are worse now than they used to be when they were babies! I was so strong at night with them when they were little, and would make sure they always slept on their own beds, and I had babies who slept for twelve hours straight. Yet somehow they've turned into big kids who are scared of bugs and monsters and wolves and they come and sleep in my bed in the middle of night and I have awful tantrums at 2am, because I just simply cannot anymore, when I never did that to a baby. What is wrong with me? And how on earth are we going to cope with a baby on top of this? I'm never going to sleep again!

I should have stopped with the two I had and concentrated on being a better parent to them, rather than try to start over screwing up yet another tiny human. Like seriously, my kids are intense. They are crazy attached to me, and get separation anxiety, and get so aggressive, and have their own social/emotional issues and they are hard work, and what was I thinking adding a baby to their already chaotic lives? 

Haven't we already got enough on our plates? My poor husband is studying, and working, and trying to be a good dad, and provide for us. He is working so hard to try and get us ahead financially. He works so hard at uni, and gets 100% on exams and 19/20 on assignments because he is amazing, and I'm supposed to be studying too. But it takes its toll, on all of us as it is, and instead we are going to add to the stress and financial pressure, and am I sure this was a good idea?

I was trying so hard to be fit and healthy throughout this pregnancy. But now I have cancelled my gym membership because I just couldn't anymore, and one hour at the gym would see me in pain, out of commission for the next day with my stupid pelvis. And I didn't get gestational diabetes, which was great, but now I'm packing on the weight like there's no tomorrow, and eating all of the food, because I just don't care anymore. So I'm probably right on track to have another enormously huge baby. And, do I have to have another baby? Giving birth really flipping hurts! And I'm only just remembering that now?

I am just far, far too selfish to be a mother.

Last night when Georgie woke up, I tried to resettle her into her bed (unsuccessfully) and I was praying that God would be her comforter and strength, and that she could just rest secure in his love. I was praying that His perfect love would drive out the fear that consumed her, that He would help her to have peace in Him, and trust in Him. That she would know she is not alone, and that she has value. That He would help her with her fears, and that they would have no place in her life.

And God went.... Hello!!!

And I was like... Oh. Yeah. Right. 

So yeah, there's that.

So I thought yesterday might be the day I had a baby, but instead I got a green wall....

On Sunday night just as I went to bed at eleven I started having contractions. I lay on my bed for a while, but I was too excited and relieved that something was finally happening. So I ended up going and doing my dishes and then timing them while I watched a movie. They went from being ten minutes apart, to seven, then to five, and I thought  'hey this baby might be really coming!' I went and had a shower and then poof! they stopped. So at four in the morning I went back to bed very frustrated.

And then ended up having a really great day.

You see, I've been talking for ages about painting a feature wall in our lounge room. I just thought a green wall would be really nice. But Shane wasn't really in it. After painting our whole house before Georgie was born, the last thing he wanted to do was re-paint a wall. (He's very practical like that). But then over the Christmas break, everyone in my family has been painting. And Shane suddenly went 'It wouldn't be that hard to paint a wall.'

So he took Georgie out for the morning so I could nap, and then came back at lunchtime, and while she slept, he painted the wall green.

Sometimes I really do love him.

I just loves it. I can't wait to hang some pictures up soon!

I'm linking this up with Jess at Diary of a SAHM, cause it's Tuesday, and I blog on Tuesdays!

I'll also link up with Karlee at The Mother Experiment, for Me and You Mondays because I'm linking in with My New Years Resolution.... and this year my resolution is to make things pretty. This past year I haven't really been doing too much to our house. I've been tackling the general cleaning and household tasks, but I haven't been very motivated. And I want to like my house. I want to love the space where I spend most of my time. So I have decided that this year I am going to try to do more than just keep the house clean and tidy. I am going to work on making things pretty and nice.

And no, no baby yet.... but I will let you know when there is! I am ten days overdue now, but had a checkup with the obstetrician today and am already 3 centimeters dilated, so it can't be too long now..... can it?

Limbo

I am so tired of waiting. I feel like I'm in some kind of holding pattern. Just waiting for the next part of my life to start. I know that having another baby is going to make things so much more difficult and complicated. I know I am going to be so incredibly tired.

But I will not be pregnant.

I'm tired of feeling so heavy. I'm tired of aching, of being so large and cumbersome. I am sick of being a subject of commentary for every single person I see. I don't blame people, but at the same time I am so sick of saying 'Yep. Still pregnant.'

I have another appointment on Tuesday, and they will do a stretch and sweep (ick) if the baby still hasn't arrived. But I really don't want to be induced. Georgie was induced and I don't want to do that again. I know it will be much better for all of us if I can just sit this out and wait for the baby to come in it's own time. I don't want to be induced unless there is a valid medical reason for it. But Oh! I am so ready for this baby to come. I just need to patient a little while longer.

I want to meet this new little person. To find out if it is a girl or a boy. To see who this is. I want the labour over and done with so I can stop fretting about things going badly. There are so many questions I have, that can only be answered after this baby arrives.

I know that I just need to cope. Get on with this. In the grand scheme of things it is nothing. There are so many people facing so many terrible and horrific things and here I am whining about being pregnant (seriously?). This baby will come in it's own perfect time.

But I am more than ready to get out of this limbo. I am ready for the next chapter.

Linking up with Kellie at The Good, the Bad & The Unnecessary who is the new host of Things I know.

Imagination getting the better of me....

Last night I was putting Georgie to bed. I'd been feeling a big gross all day and was wondering if maybe the night would be the one when the baby would decided to arrive? (and no, it totally wasn't) But as I cuddled my little girl and put her to bed, I thought of my Aunty Jenny.

If you haven't already heard the story, my Aunty Jenny died years ago, from a complication in childbirth. When she was having her second baby, some of the amniotic fluid got into her bloodstream. And I just thought, did she do the same thing? Tuck her little girl in to bed with an 'I love you' and then go to hospital never to come home? It's times like this I hate my imagination, because it's all just too real.

And it just hurts.

It's not that I have any horrible premonitions about this baby's birth, I fully expect to have everything go fine. But it just makes me so incredibly sad. The idea of a little girl, the same age as Georgie, to just not have her Mummy anymore. To leave a little baby boy, newly hatched, motherless? A husband, to cope all alone? It's when I dwell on things like this that I don't understand God very well. And I don't like him. I understand why my Grandma had so much trouble dealing with it. Because it's just not right.

I don't have any answers. I know that God is holy and righteous. I just have to trust, and believe that some things are beyond our comprehension. And I know that God weeps for us just as much as we do.

Today I'm trying to take the time to make the most of my wonderful family.

Just a peek at some of the fear that is occupying my head space at the moment...

At the moment there is a bit of a niggling fear in the back of my mind. I have 19 days to go until we get to this baby's due date, and so far everything is progressing along very well. But I can't shake that 'what if something goes wrong?'

I think it's more prominent this time around, because last time, it was my first pregnancy and I steadfastly tried to avoid as much information about childbirth as I could. I didn't go in totally blind, we did the birthing classes and I read books. But I kind of just listened to my Mum's advice of "it's going to be the hardest work you ever do, but you will get a baby at the end of it." (Pretty good advice). I steered clear of horror stories of 60 hour labours, and tried to avoid those charming women who seem to actively seek pregnant women to terrify, and were eager to tell me of the ordeals they had suffered through to get their children (seriously, what is up with those women?).

But this time I've been exposed to lots more than I needed to know. Partly because of the Internet,  also because of the joy of mothers groups, and the battle stories that are told there, and also because in the past 6 months two of my friends from playgroups have had their babies flown to the city after complications (isn't that a scary word?). There's the memory of my Aunty Jenny lurking in there somewhere, and I think I am also a bit more aware of just how precious having a baby is. But for whatever the reason, I am a lot more worried about what can go wrong.

This time around, we have also elected to stay at home and have the baby at our local regional hospital, rather than travel to the city and have the baby privately, the way we did with Georgie. We just decided it was going to be easier on Georgie and myself, because it was difficult to have to travel for appointments and scans so often, and I would have had to be in the city for a month before the birth, which would have been quite difficult. Plus it is a whole lot cheaper. And I didn't have too many dramas with my first pregnancy, so we decided it was for the best.

But now I do wonder if we made the right call. It's not that our local hospital hasn't been wonderful, but it is a small hospital, there is no NICU, and no permanent obstetrician. Just a flying obstetrician who services the whole area. So if something goes badly wrong, you are flown away to the city. But occasionally there just isn't time or opportunity to get the help that is needed. And that is a bit scary.

I'm telling myself that childbirth is a completely natural process, and I do think that far too often there is too much medical intervention these days. But I'm still worried about all that could go wrong. And I'm scared that it could be my fault, because it was mostly my decision to stay. Could I ever forgive myself if my child grew up with a problem, that may not have been a problem if they had received adequate medical care from the moment they were born?

I don't really expect any answers or any reassurance. I guess I just have to trust this baby with God. But it's hard. I just hope that this baby can arrive safely and without too much drama or 'complication' (there's that word again!).

5 Things that tell me I know I am over being pregnant....

The clock is slowly ticking. Four weeks left. I am starting to be really over being pregnant. So I decided to link up with Shae for a pregnancy-themed Things I know this week.

Sadly, NOT me.

1. I hurt. Everywhere. But especially my back. I am so tired of lying down, and then not being able to get back up because I literally can't. Even the physio is not doing much good anymore. I just want to be able to move!

It's a funny picture, but it actually is quite sad how much this cat and I have in common!

2. This week I have literally cried over spilled milk. I am crying all of the time. I am so touchy and hormonal and I cannot seem to do anything about it (but cry).

3. I know that I am definitely over being pregnant when bending over to pick something up becomes a marathon task of epic proportions.

4. Sore feet and cankles. Not pretty. Enough said.

5. The idea of sleepless nights, a screaming infant and sore sore boobies all sound better than the idea of being pregnant a moment longer.


I'm also linking up with Sar-Wah for Flog Yo Blog Friday. Happy Weekend everyone!

Oh, and if you don't mind, I would love it if you could pop over to the Circle of Mums page and give me your vote. I really would appreciate it!

Where did my baby go?

All of a sudden, my baby girl is no longer such a baby. She is a people. She has become such a big girl, seemingly overnight. It's been coming for a while, but I think we are definitely hitting toddler time. I love the games and the laughter, she finds the fun in everything. She is a little ball of crazy, relentlessness energy, that can leave me whimpering in the foetal position at the end of the day. One minute is all is takes for her to create so much carnage.

But I loves her. I loves her so much. I love the fact that she is walking now, just like a big girl. I love the 'Mum' and 'Dad' and 'Pup' and other assorted gibberish that actually means something now. She thinks. All the time she is watching and thinking. She points and communicates and never stops moving. She copies everything now (which can be very dangerous). She is developing problem solving skills. I love the independence, but the fact that she still needs Mummy.

I have to admit, I am worried about how she will go with a new baby. I have 6 weeks to go and am doing my best to enjoy the time we have left as just us. But I think God knew exactly what he was doing when he put our little ones so close together. A sibling will not hurt this little imperious girl one little bit. It will be hard. But I also really do think that children aren't meant to grow up alone.

The closer I'm getting to this baby's due date, the more settled I'm feeling about it. I'm still dreading the sleepless nights, the pain of breastfeeding, the newborn squalling. I know that life is going to be pretty full-on soon. But at the same time I don't think it will be quite as hard as it was the first time around. Because even though all babies are different. This time I will already be a mother. I won't be trying to adjust to life at home and not having work to go to. I know that generally, the kind of day I have depends on my attitude and actions. I won't be turning my world upside down quite so much because I already am a parent. There is also a sense of 'I can do this' because I know that I have done it before.

I'm sure it will still be incredibly difficult. I've told myself to remember that the first three months are just about survival. But at the same time, I do feel a little more relaxed about the whole thing this time. Even while getting organised, I haven't been quite so anal and compulsive. I know that babies don't actually need that much stuff. Plus, our house is still mostly set up for a baby. All I've really had to do is get the cradle out, and some clothes ready. There is still a bit to do. But it's not the same stress-fueled intense time that it was last time.

So right now my life is a jumble of enjoying, organising, cleaning, nesting, aching, relishing, chasing. But we're doing okay. My baby girl is a toddler. But it won't be long until I have another baby again.

This thing called Life...

Some days I feel like I am doing well. Other days I wonder what on earth I am playing at, and how long it's going to take before somebody notices that I'm doing everything wrong.

Some days the house is beautiful. I look at where I live and I feel happy. My yard is spacious and green and lush, the garden is lovely and my house is clean and tidy. My floor is spotless and the bathroom looks nice. Some days the washing up is done, the folding is put away and my washing machine motors away merrily. Some days I feel like I am winning in the constant battle against untidiness that seems to fill my life.

Other days the house is a pigsty. My garden is a mess and everything is dry and yellow and horrible. The lawn is overgrown and 'didn't we just mow it the other day?' The floor is filthy and I have to put on socks just so the anal OCD side of me doesn't burst into tears just because I am walking around feeling dirt gather on my bare feet. On those days nothing is clean and it is never going to get clean. There are just too many dishes piled up on the sink and the folding basket is overflowing. Those days cleaning is just too hard and there is no point anyway- it will all be dirty tomorrow. On those days days my family are the soul-sucking leeches that continually mess up everything, and they have no thought or appreciation of the fact that I spend my life cleaning up after them.

Some days with my child are good. She sleeps well and has long naps and is quite happy to play independently. She is cheerful and smiles at strangers and is obedient and well-behaved. We play together and I just adore her, and her smile seems to be everything in the world. Some days my child is so happy and I feel like I am doing a fantastic job as a mother. Some days I know that I am exactly where I am supposed to be and could not imagine going back to work and leaving her because I know that what I am doing is good and worthwhile.

Other days my child is a holy terror. She screams and hits and scratches and bites and is miserable and unhappy. On those days she does not sleep, eat or listen to a single word I say. Other days she whines and cries and follows me around moaning all day and I struggle to keep myself together until she finally goes to bed. Some nights it feels like I have hardly even touched my bed and I am literally a walking zombie. Some days I wonder what on earth I am doing as a parent and it is all I can do to stop myself from calling the nearest childcare centre, because even a trained monkey could do a better job as a mother than me.

Some days I am a good wife. My husband is happy and he comes home to a happy, smiling wife and child. Some days he has plenty of clean clothes to wear and a nice dinner to eat. Some days he is happy in his work and we communicate effectively like two grown-ups. Some days the love I feel for him is so great I can hardly contain it. Some days I feel like the most beautiful, wonderful woman in the world.

Other days my husband comes home to a screaming banshee of a child and a wild-eyed, psychotic woman for a wife. He is unhappy in his job and has had a terrible day and all he wants to do is sit down and have a beer and watch some TV, but his wife makes unceasing, complicated demands on him until he feels ready to explode. Those days he comes home to a house that is in shambles, he has no clean clothes and there is nothing to eat and home certainly doesn't feel like a safe haven. Other days my husband is a negative, miserable unhappy man who I have no idea why I married. We have nothing in common and our level of communication is frighteningly similar to that of toddlers.

Some days I am glowing in pregnancy. I feel the movement of life within my tummy and am astounded at the life within me. Some days I feel like a beautiful picture of femininity and cannot wait to meet this baby. I have plenty of energy and feel like pregnancy is a wonderful experience.

Other days I am tired of being pregnant, and just plain old tired in general. I hurt everywhere and I feel unwell and am so sick of my body not being able to do the things I want it to. On those days the baby continually jumps on my bladder, or kicks me in the ribs and I am so uncomfortable. I wonder what kind of God could think that pregnancy or birth was a good idea and surely He could have designed things better? Other days I am terrified of going through labour again and cannot stop myself from thinking of everything that could go wrong. I do not want to have two children under two and have no idea how I am going to cope. I feel like huge, unattractive ball of yuck and just want to hide in my bedroom because nobody could possibly want to look at me.

Some days I am witty and intelligent. I write a post and receive many comments about it and feel encouraged like I really do have something valid to say. Some days the internet feels like a nice, friendly space and I am so grateful for the people I have met and gotten to know.

Other days I spend my life slaving away at the computer and neglect my life. Other bloggers and commenter are rude and stupid. Nobody ever says a single thing to me, or replies to any of my tweets or comments, so I may as well be invisible. Obviously I have nothing to offer the world and I cannot write for peanuts. Everyone else is better than me and I should just stop wasting my time and just get on with my life.

Some days life is easy and it works. Other days living can be the hardest thing in the world. Some days I feel like I've got it right, others I wonder how I could ever be so far wrong and I am glad that every day is not like that. I like that most days are a mix of both, not cry-yourself-to-sleep dreadful, nor dancing-on-clouds happy. I'm very grateful for some days, but on other days, the best thing that can be said is that the day is over.

Linking up with Glowless today because it's Friday!

Pink or Blue?

This pregnancy has been so different for a number of reasons. My morning sickness was different. With Georgie I was tied-to-the-toilet sick every night from week 8 until about week 14. With this baby, I was kinda-feeling-gross-all-day-but-not-too-bad for a few months, but it was definitely easier.

I was also a lot more conscious of being pregnant with Georgie, probably because she was my first and I wasn't so busy. Whereas this time, I almost forgot I was pregnant a lot of the time. This baby is a heck of a lot more active than I remember Georgie being. And it's sitting differently too, Georgie was quite low, but this baby feels permanently lodged in my ribcage. This pregnancy also feels like it's flown by. I am also so, so, so much more exhausted this time around. It's just different.

But the biggest difference I've found, is that I honestly cannot tell you whether I would rather have a boy or a girl. With Georgie, I wanted a girl. Oh, I wanted a girl. I said I didn't mind.... but I really, really wanted that girl. I think I was so scared of never getting to have a daughter. I watch my Mum with her girls, and I just really wanted that relationship. I was also worried about having all boys. Not that I didn't want a boy. But I know if I had to choose between having all girls or all boys, it would be girls. I wanted to play with dresses and skirts and hair and ribbons. I know girls. I grew up as one of four girls. My sister has three girls. Girls just seemed... easier.

But now, I don't feel quite so scared of boys. Maybe it's because I know now that I won't have all boys. I must admit the idea of boys is still a bit scary, probably because it's fear of the unknown. But at the same time, I would quite like to try it. I also really want Shane to have a son. I know it will be different, but I feel like I am a little more able to tackle the idea of a boy now.

However I just can't really say that I really desperately want this baby to be a girl or a boy. If we were stopping at two I might want a boy. But we are pretty sure that we will have more after this. I must admit at the moment I do not fancy the idea of being pregnant again, but I know in time I will be ready for another one. I just want to have a bigger gap between this one and the next one.

So I just can't really say. On the one hand, a girl would be nice. It would be nice to have two little girls, two sisters close together. There is something so lovely about little girls. Plus, we have an awful lot of girl clothes, and it might make things nice when it comes to room sharing and sisters a grade apart. But on the other hand, a boy would be....a boy. A son. It would be nice to know what it's like to have a son. I also love both names that we have picked.

So I just can't say. In my gut I think this could be a boy, but I was sure (positive!) that Georgie was a boy.... so you can't trust that. I kind of wish we had found out, it would make things so much easier in terms of getting ready. But it was a fantastic surprise to meet Georgie when she arrived, and so I'm content to wait. I have 10 weeks to go and am getting quite excited about meeting this new little person.

At the end of the day, I know it will be a baby anyway, and that's pretty awesome.


Linking up with Shae for Things I know today and Glowless for Flog Yo Blog Friday :)

Mea culpa

This week has been... tough. On Monday I did the one hour diabetes test, and failed.

Now I am a classic overachiever. I don't think I've failed many things in my life. So suffice to say I am extremely unhappy. That's why I haven't been blogging much this week. Generally when there is bloggy silence and I'm not away, it means I have a post to write, but it's not ready to be written. I find it hard to just write anything when I've got something to say, but am having trouble saying it.

I was going to wait until I found out if I actually did have gestational diabetes or not. But I've decided to write the post now.

I am angry, so unbelievably angry. At me. Mea culpa.

I know, I have always known that I was at high risk for gestational diabetes (and diabetes in general). My Dad was diagnosed with it when he was in his mid forties, and my family has never been stick insects. We like food, and food likes us. We have wonderful genes if we were ever in a famine, but not so-wonderful genes in this first-world nation that is littered (literally) with food. My sisters and I have all always struggled to keep our weight down. I lost 10kg before Georgie was born, and was at my fittest ever, going to the gym nearly every day.

But fitness is so easy to lose. And weight so easy to gain. I told myself I would get myself properly back in shape when I weaned Georgie. I tried to stay healthy while pregnant with her, but then I was having trouble losing weight while breastfeeding. I was also not trying as hard as I could have been. So when I got pregnant while Georgie was 9 months old I was not in peak physical condition.

I have not been healthy during this pregnancy either. I told myself I wasn't doing too badly, but I had all but stopped exercising, I was eating too much, and I was not eating great food. I told myself I would get it off after I had this baby. I said it was too hard to exercise and eat well while I was pregnant with a baby/toddler.

I was lying. To myself and to anyone else who would listen. And really what does it matter? Even if I do have a great excuse, the best in the world... it doesn't matter when I get diabetes. Excuses mean nothing to heart disease or kidney failure. It's up to me. Whether it's easy or hard. It's on me.

And I forgot that, or chose to ignore it. So now I am angry at myself, I'm disappointed, I'm guilty, I'm worried and I am ashamed. Mea culpa.

I know that gestational diabetes is also a hormonal thing, and I know there are many women who are very healthy who still get it. Women who have done nothing to deserve it. But I wasn't. I had risk factors. And while I was careful while pregnant with Georgie, I have not been this time. Knowingly and willingly I waltzed down the path of self-destruction. That's the truth.

I must admit I'm also a little upset, because while I am overweight, I'm not obese. I may be large but I'm not huge. There are other women who are much larger than me who seem to never have problems, and I think "Why me? It's not fair!" But things like sickness and disease rarely are.

Today I took the proper two-hour test. Now we wait. I don't want to have gestational diabetes. I don't want to add another risk to the growing list that could see me one day with fully-blown diabetes. I want to be healthy because it is my choice, not because I have no choice. I want to be able to eat a cupcake at a special occasion without taking medicine. I want to be able to be careful and healthy, but not have to follow a rigid, no-exceptions, regime. I'm just scared.

I'm frightened too not just for what this could mean for me, but for this baby. I feel so guilty that I haven't been taking care of it the way I should have. This baby needs good healthy food, not the junk that I have been peddling. I don't want this baby to be too big because I couldn't control myself. I am grateful that I live in a world where good practices take place to ensure that this baby is not too big. But I still just don't want this.

I'm also scared that this could mean that I can't have this baby here at home. Our local hospital is a low-risk unit, so if my diabetes is severe they will not let me stay. Plus I have the added complication of having high blood pressure in a previous pregnancy. I just really wanted this baby to be able to come in it's own time, where I could labour at home for a while first. I wanted things to be easy. I do not want to have to go to the city for four weeks and get induced..... but really, all I want is a healthy baby.

I know it's not the end of the world. I know I may not even have this disease yet. And even if I do, I know there are many people who live very happy, fulfilled lives with diabetes. But I'm still sure that if you asked every one of them if they could chose not to have it, they would.

So that's it. I am waiting for results. But now I am determined to be healthier. I pray that this is just a wake-up call, and I can change things before it is too late.

Going Through the Motions

Did you ever watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer? It's probably not really what Paul was thinking about when he wrote Philippians 4:8..... but I used to enjoy it. The musical episode was one of my favourites, and this song seems to just be summing up things pretty well lately.

Sometimes life just feels very... tasteless. It's nothing I can put my finger on, and it's not even that bad or noticeable. But things are just very same old right now. Housework seems to be in an endless, unrewarding cycle, and I am starting to get a little bit uncomfortable with this pregnancy, although I'm still only 28 weeks along. But this baby just seems to be sitting much higher than Georgie did and appears to have a penchant for shoving little feet in my ribs!

I'm starting to get slightly freaked out at how soon I may actually have a new baby in relation to how prepared I am (the ratio is a little too unbalanced I think). But I'm still finding it hard to muster up the energy required to organise cupboards and start finding little clothes and baby things.

I kind of feel guilty, because I just don't have that same level of euphoria that I had when I was pregnant with Georgie. I'm happy to be having another baby, don't get me wrong.... but the joy is tempered with a lot more dread this time as I know exactly what I'm getting into. I'm also worried about how Georgie will cope with it all, but I know that it will only be a short-term thing until she gets used to it. Plus, I'm just busier this time around. It's nothing in particular, I'm just very tired. It's hard though.

I feel so bad for this baby, because I just feel like it's not getting/going to get the same amount of attention that Georgie did. I feel guilty for not being more excited, I feel guilty for what this may do to Georgie.... basically I just feel guilty all of the time! But this baby will probably be better for a little healthy neglect... that's what I tell myself anyway!

We're off on holidays in a couple of weeks, which will be lovely- and exactly what we need I think! Hopefully when I get back I can start to really get things done.


What about you? Did you feel less pregnancy-induced excitement the second time round? And were/are you also a Buffy fan?


Linking up with Jess for I blog on Tuesdays... check it out!

Thankful that pain is temporary

I don't tend to talk too much about it. But I suffer from pelvic girdle pain during pregnancy. It's not terrible- there are many worse things that can bother a woman during pregnancy. But it hurts. This time around it's a little bit worse too.

It's generally not too bad during the day when I'm doing and moving. But by the end of the day, when I stop a little, the pain starts. It gets worse when I've had a day when I've done too much. It's in my right hip and stretches down my leg to my knee. I have a bath almost every night to help with the pain and it does help, but when my muscles relax I have a really hard time getting around. The sharp jabs of pain can floor me sometimes, and there is a dull ache that creeps down my leg as the pain gets worse. It's really hard to sleep. I wake myself up when I try to roll over in bed sometimes, and getting up in the middle of the night can occasionally drop me to the ground (thank God Georgie is a good sleeper!). But most of the time, it improves during the morning and then goes downhill in the afternoon.

It means lots of trips to the physio. I go there fortnightly generally. I would go every second day if I could, but unfortunately my bank balance can't allow it. So I make do with being taped up every now and then and wearing an attractive belt when it gets really bad.

It's not fun, but at the same time I try not to make too much of it. Most women have one thing or another than bothers them during pregnancy, and at least my back rights itself straight after the baby's born. It may even get better by about 35 weeks or so with any luck, as I think it did with Georgie.

But it has made me realise how very fortunate I am. I am not the fittest or healthiest person on the planet by any means. I could definitely take better care of myself in regards to diet, fitness and sun safety. But at the same time, I am healthy. If I wanted to train my body to climb Mount Everest I probably could (although not while pregnant obviously!). But I am capable. My body does not hold me back. Sometimes I hold myself back with my bad habits, but my body is strong and well.

For me, this pain is temporary. I know it is. Other people are not so fortunate. Many, many people deal with debilitating pain on a day-to-day basis. Other people's bodies are not so capable. So I am grateful. Sometimes it is really tough. But I know the road I am walking is a short one. This pain is not a life sentence. When this baby is born I plan on working my butt off to try and get back into shape. And I can. And that's a really good thing.

Today I'm linking up with Kate for Thankful Thursdays- come check it out!

All is well...

It's late and I'm tired, but I just wanted to say that the scan went very well! All looks good for our little one. Shane also managed to come home for the day (driving a 3 hour, both way trip) and see the scan too, so that was really really great! We were very strong and didn't find out if it's a boy or girl, even though I really wanted to! But baby number 2 is looking good!

However we did get another (another!) due date, which is..... the 24th of December. I'm feeling a little apprehensive, as our last date was the 31st, which meant after Christmas and that sounded so much nicer. But the baby will come when it's good and ready, and at the moment all is well. :)

Also, in case you were wondering... I've decided to make Tasty Tuesdays a fortnightly, rather than weekly thing... weekly was just a bit too much to keep up!

Fear...

Newborn Georgie- terrified and excited at the idea of another one of these!

Tomorrow I am going to have the 20 week morphology scan for baby number two. And I am nervous.

We didn't have a 12 week scan, we just decided not to. We'd seen the baby at an earlier scan only a few weeks before, and since we are low risk for anything going badly, and would never terminate, I just decided to leave it. But now I am really regretting that decision and getting a little worried. It's been a good long while since we've seen how things are going, and what if something's wrong? I just want to know how everything is going in there!

I have no reason to suppose that things could be bad, I am healthy and reasonably fit, no negative signs at all, they've been able to find the baby's heartbeat at every Doctor's appointment, and I've been feeling little tiny kicks in the last week or so.

But still....

It's funny, even though this baby wasn't really planned the way Georgie was, and I must admit that I'm a little worried about what having another baby will do to us. (I sometimes feel that I'm barely coping as a Mummy of one child, let alone two!) Yet I still want this baby, so, so much. The idea of another squishy little newborn is just wonderful. But it's also very scary, and somehow it's more scary than it was last time. I think because I've had a baby, and know exactly what we would be losing if something happened. I really, really want everything to be okay. Possibly too, I am little more aware this time around? Thanks to the internet and blogging I've been exposed to a wide range of stories about birth... and while some are amazing, some of them are just heartbreaking.

So in many ways, the fear is greater. It's not because I love this baby more or less than Georgie, but things are just so different this time.