A very, very bad blogger indeed, but I'm more tired than a tired thing and I feel like I'm going to fall over backwards any moment and sleep for the next ten weeks. Actually, that sounds kind of wonderful. Maybe I should do that...
Anyway, that's about as clever as I can get in the excuse department.
We have been doing stuff - we started antenatal classes last week (although the sitting and concentrating (ish) for 2 hours is a bit rough. I couldn't sit for 2 hours before I was pregnant, let alone now, and hello? concentrate? Yeah. Right. Nevermind that they finish at the unholy hour of 9pm, waaay past bed time AND I miss out on my evening hot chocolate. Still, I suppose I can chalk it up to sacrifices for kiddly and just make sure I remember to remind him about it for forever), we've been making a vege garden (or rather Al has, and by 'making a vege garden' I mean that there's dirt and compost and a frame and the weeds have been sprayed, and there will be seeds shoved in there soon - there are also photos which I'll post eventually) and I've single-handedly saved Nature Baby from feeling the effects of the economic crisis (well, maybe not because it turns out that budgety seriousness has kicked in already, but I can't be having you all thinking I've changed toooo much, and I do adore their kiddly things) so kiddly is all set to arrive whenever he feels so inclined, so long as it's not for another ... say 8 weeks.
Ooooooohhh and there has been nesting. That instinct is a powerful wee beastie, isn't it? For absolutely no reason whatsoever, I turfed the entire contents of our linen closet into the hallway about a week ago, much to the delight of the cat, and reorganised it making sure everything was folded and easily found, and the crap was allocated to become someone elses problem. The wardrobe in the spare room will suffer similar abuse this weekend probably. Maybe. At least I have boxes ready and waiting. I was part way through the linen closet organising when I stopped to wonder if the instinct to nest and organise comes from the number of women who used to die in childbirth ... thereby ensuring that her household could be run by either a husband or whoever. Very morbid, but kind of interesting. I mean, instincts come from somewhere/something surely?
I bought a swiss ball too which came out for the first time last night (I wish my blimmin danger instinct had stopped me from that one). I'm sure to those of you who know me, the idea is a bit amusing, and believe me, in practice, it's equally if not more so. I didn't do too badly though - just one little woopsie where I rolled on jack's tail, he took exception, I over-corrected and then face-planted off the front landing ever so delicately I'm sure with my butt in the air, much to the husband's amusement. He did ask if I was alright though. Or, at least, he sort of choked it out. Cuinn thought it was a marvellous joke and continued with what he interpreted as bouncing for about 10 minutes - either that, or he landed on his head too and was trying to get back up the other way.
The swiss ball came about (in case you're wondering) because we learned at antenatal classes that it can be helpful for a) pelvic something or other and b) getting baby facing the right way because of the way you have to sit on it. What got my attention was the 'if baby is facing the wrong way 11.5cm of pressure will bear down on your 10cm dilated cervix' and 'if baby is facing the right way, 9.5cm of pressure will bear down on your 10cm dilated cervix', and shite at maths though I may be even I can manage those wee calculations and I owned a swiss ball within the day. There was also a visual demonstration with a squeezy pelvis model thing showing what crossing your legs does to decrease the amount of room in your pelvis severely, and then after reducing the amount of space on the model by about half the childbirth educator tried to jam a doll-baby's head through. That maths wasn't lost on me either. Obviously, I uncrossed my legs that instant and haven't done it again since.
Tonight we're watching a birthing video so I have ear plugs and a blind fold at the ready, and we're having dinner nice and early so that it's all well and truly digested beforehand.
TTFN xo
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz ....
Monday, 10 November 2008
Friday, 31 October 2008
I'll have to work on this telling-a-head-from-a-butt thing
It'll come in handy, methinks, when it comes to working out how to stick a nappy on.
80% of babies by this stage are head down, so I was thinking that the roundy solid thing poking out with great regularity below my ribs was his butt, and was feeling very pleased with myself when I trotted off to the obstetrician on Wednesday. However, this is, of course, our child, and statistics supporting any norm be damned, the little demon is cheerfully breech and the roundy solid thing is his noggin. His large noggin. In fact, the exact words of the obstetrician, after he asked who ate all the pies (yes, he did) were "That's a big noggin" as he measured away, and the husband stifled a snort while I groaned. Although it may not be an issue when push comes to shove, or, rather, doesn't (here's hoping). There may be fittage issues vis a vis a kiddly head and a mummy pelvis, in which case, I have been given a pre-emptive 'our priority is to ensure a safe delivery of baby, the health of the mother, and we will do what is best when it comes to the birth' which really was quite unnecessary ... they could put two sunroofs in for all I care at the moment. That head looked big even to my untrained eye.
Anyway, we'll see.
We're otherwise healthy as a horse - some of us more horse like than others of course, although it's a competition between me and Cuinn as to who is growing faster. He's up to 2lb 11oz (1214 grams), so he's doubled in size, and apparently the general rule of thumb is that between now and his due date he should triple that. And by 'general rule of thumb' I'd say that by the veiled smirk on my obstetrician's face, the fact that we've bucked the trend from day one with the little demon, one should probably just rely on the kiddly likely being enormous. Excellent.
Next visit to the obstetrician = last 4 week visit to the obstetrician.
Also, just as an aside, I'm wondering if it's entirely appropriate that my concern at this point with the possibility of a c-section is that I won't be transferred to Birthcare afterwards, but will have to kick back at Auckland Hospital. Ergo, I doubt there will be creme brulee. Very uncool.
Oh, and different topic altogether. Ack. Halloween is tonight. I think. There seem to be an inordinate amount of pumpkins and cobwebs about which tends to suggest. And that means that there will be countless numbers of little kids flooding the neighbourhood, not wearing even a hint of a costume, making for our front door to ask for lollies. In lieu of a sign telling them to go away because they usually ignore that anyway, I've just not fed the dogs. That should ensure ... well, not peace and quiet by any stretch (have you ever heard our dogs tell us we have visitors? It's the anti-peace and quiet I can assure you), but at least the only sightings of little kids not wearing a hint of a costume will be them running back down the path as fast as their little legs will carry them, having made it only part way to the door.
80% of babies by this stage are head down, so I was thinking that the roundy solid thing poking out with great regularity below my ribs was his butt, and was feeling very pleased with myself when I trotted off to the obstetrician on Wednesday. However, this is, of course, our child, and statistics supporting any norm be damned, the little demon is cheerfully breech and the roundy solid thing is his noggin. His large noggin. In fact, the exact words of the obstetrician, after he asked who ate all the pies (yes, he did) were "That's a big noggin" as he measured away, and the husband stifled a snort while I groaned. Although it may not be an issue when push comes to shove, or, rather, doesn't (here's hoping). There may be fittage issues vis a vis a kiddly head and a mummy pelvis, in which case, I have been given a pre-emptive 'our priority is to ensure a safe delivery of baby, the health of the mother, and we will do what is best when it comes to the birth' which really was quite unnecessary ... they could put two sunroofs in for all I care at the moment. That head looked big even to my untrained eye.
Anyway, we'll see.
We're otherwise healthy as a horse - some of us more horse like than others of course, although it's a competition between me and Cuinn as to who is growing faster. He's up to 2lb 11oz (1214 grams), so he's doubled in size, and apparently the general rule of thumb is that between now and his due date he should triple that. And by 'general rule of thumb' I'd say that by the veiled smirk on my obstetrician's face, the fact that we've bucked the trend from day one with the little demon, one should probably just rely on the kiddly likely being enormous. Excellent.
Next visit to the obstetrician = last 4 week visit to the obstetrician.
Also, just as an aside, I'm wondering if it's entirely appropriate that my concern at this point with the possibility of a c-section is that I won't be transferred to Birthcare afterwards, but will have to kick back at Auckland Hospital. Ergo, I doubt there will be creme brulee. Very uncool.
Oh, and different topic altogether. Ack. Halloween is tonight. I think. There seem to be an inordinate amount of pumpkins and cobwebs about which tends to suggest. And that means that there will be countless numbers of little kids flooding the neighbourhood, not wearing even a hint of a costume, making for our front door to ask for lollies. In lieu of a sign telling them to go away because they usually ignore that anyway, I've just not fed the dogs. That should ensure ... well, not peace and quiet by any stretch (have you ever heard our dogs tell us we have visitors? It's the anti-peace and quiet I can assure you), but at least the only sightings of little kids not wearing a hint of a costume will be them running back down the path as fast as their little legs will carry them, having made it only part way to the door.
Tuesday, 28 October 2008
So yeah ... 28 weeks ...
And no, I can't believe it either. 12 weeks to go. 12 weeks! Eek! Actually, eek from the perspective of time running out, but also eek from the perspective of I'm kinda the size now that I thought I'd be full term. Uhhhmmm ... Oooerrr. 12 more weeks of kiddly growing.
Mind you, maybe, maybe not. IVF kiddlies have a bit of a habit of coming early apparently (yes, I know google isn't a medical authority, however) so Al and I are thinking that an appearance at the 38/39 week mark might be nice thankyouverymuch. Then again, I don't know that it's so much a case of them coming early (if you discount the 28ish weekers whose super-early arrivals I am inclined to think perhaps relate to the issues that required IVF in the first place), or that conception is extremely accurate, but calculated the same way in everyone. Does that make sense? Hopefully, although I really don't care if it doesn't. The whole brain-don't-go thing really does add a dimension of serenity to one's existence.
Having said that, serenity aside, I'm still a bit dark about having to do antenatal classes, which incidentally start next week (7pm-9pm! How the hell am I supposed to stay awake till 9pm? Honestly! Do they realise they're dealing with pregnant women at these things? We're supposed to stay awake and absorb information. Yeah. Right. Mind you, it could be advantageous falling asleep at about 7.10pm considering some of the stuff they want to talk about at those things. Episi ... you do what now? *shudder* Epidural? Yes. Definitely. I want five please. The husband will just take the gas. And a blindfold probably. And a chair which will allow him to keep his head between his knees for the duration of the fun stuff. And someone exceptionally large (or several normal sized someones) to catch him when he faints if he's stupid enough to take a squiz at the business end. There'd better be blimmin creme bruleee on the menu at Birthcare is all I can say.
Anyway. That whole 12 weeks to go thing was supposed to be a segue of sorts into what we've been doing lately, not an entire post on whatever I was on about.
When the penny dropped (I heard a marvellous version of that saying the other day ... something about the penny dropping, rolling down something and clunking somewhere else ... it was very clever. Can't remember it though. I should have written it down) that Cuinn had reached the milestone whereby he'd have a fighting chance if he was born (actually what did it was re-booking for our obstetrician appointment tomorrow and realising that it's the second to last 4 week appointment before we go down to 2 weekly and then weekly check ups), it also dropped somewhat more loudly a wee while later that he could potentially be a toad and give us all hysterics, even though we're hoping that he's more his father than his mother, and that he's far too comfortable splayed out on his uterus couch playing whatever version of xbox he's got in there to be getting all impatient-like about this in utero growing business. But, you have to think of these things, and as soon as I did a vague but insistent sense of anxiety set in that I needed to get organised. Just in case. The husband did venture to suggest that if for some reason Cuinn did come this early, he'd be in hospital for ages so we'd have plenty of time to buy whatever we needed. I've pretty much been hoping ever since that no one will actually notice that the husband's gone missing and that there's a rather large patch of freshly turned earth in our back yard ...
I was very good - I made a list instead of just going shopping, and over about 2 weeks I thought about it, took things off it, put things on, changed quantities, stewed on why I wanted what I wanted and whether it was a valid reason (why did I 'need' 2 plastic bottles instead of glass ones, when plastic ones are 3 times the price? Maybe I did, maybe I didn't, though I did get them anyway on the basis that I'm perfectly happy with glass at home, but plastic for going in the baby bag, or to the park, or anywhere else it could be annihilated where it's not easy to clean up, seemed sensible) blah blah etc etc, and eventually managed to shave quite a bit off the end bill. I still have no idea whether I should have gone with onesies or separates, but I opted for half and half on the basis that whichever works out to be best, I can make do for a couple of months and then just run with my preference for the next size up (crap I forgot to get singlets for under separates).
I'm pretty sure that we have everything we'll need. I don't feel any anxiety that we don't anyway, even if we do end up finding out in due course that we have nothing we'll actually need and everything we'll probably never lay a hand on.
We also made sure that we had the carseat ready to go in the car by making sure that the anchor bolt was fitted, and that we had everything we needed eg. the belt extension we didn't have, but we found we needed when the car belt proved too short. And there there was the oh-bollocks-the-carseat-has-every-safety-feature-under-the-sun-but-doesn't-fit-in-the-backseat-of-the-car-rear-facing-reclined-for-a-newborn moment, and we found it necessary to add a baby capsule to the list. Argh. On which note, I'll say a very loud bless Pal Katherine for coming to the rescue on that front. I'm assuming it'll work like a charm - Jazz seemed to think it was all good anyway.
In a moment of uttery nesty-madness, I even cleaned out the wardrobe in his room and made sure it only had kiddly supplies stacked in it. Of course, that does sound a bit more impressive than it really is - although his wardrobe is nice and organised, I highly recommend not even thinking about opening the wardrobe door in the end spare room. I'm still not sure the best way to go about getting into that to clean it out when the mood strikes, assuming that it may do at some stage. Either that, or at some point, a guest is going to want to use it. I might wait a few weeks and then send the unsuspecting husband down there to retrieve something for me and let everything fall out of the wardrobe all over him. That really does seem like the best plan.
So muchos organisyos has been taking place over the last few weeks. That, and 'enjoying it while it lasts' has been the order of the day as far as sleep, relaxation and spending time together just spending time together, musing over whether the kid will be a ginger, and cursing the little demon when he goes to ground for a few days and refuses to move even so much as a muscle to let us know that he's perfectly happy and just having an extended snooze thanks.
Oooooh! There has been vege gardeny goodness though, which I'll tell you about and provide photos of. In the meantime, those of you who know me well can amuse yourselves having hysterics at the thought of me trying to do anything that involves plants, let alone edible ones (the husband won't even let me water the house plants because as soon as they see me they die), but I can assure you that so far all is well, because there aren't actually any plants involved yet. But, for now, I'm going to have a sleep.
Zzzzzzz...
(Also - just a wee end note ... if any of this doesn't make sense, I wouldn't hassle yourself complaining about it because I don't really care. Such is the joy of pregnancy-induced serenity from my perspective. Tra la la)
Mind you, maybe, maybe not. IVF kiddlies have a bit of a habit of coming early apparently (yes, I know google isn't a medical authority, however) so Al and I are thinking that an appearance at the 38/39 week mark might be nice thankyouverymuch. Then again, I don't know that it's so much a case of them coming early (if you discount the 28ish weekers whose super-early arrivals I am inclined to think perhaps relate to the issues that required IVF in the first place), or that conception is extremely accurate, but calculated the same way in everyone. Does that make sense? Hopefully, although I really don't care if it doesn't. The whole brain-don't-go thing really does add a dimension of serenity to one's existence.
Having said that, serenity aside, I'm still a bit dark about having to do antenatal classes, which incidentally start next week (7pm-9pm! How the hell am I supposed to stay awake till 9pm? Honestly! Do they realise they're dealing with pregnant women at these things? We're supposed to stay awake and absorb information. Yeah. Right. Mind you, it could be advantageous falling asleep at about 7.10pm considering some of the stuff they want to talk about at those things. Episi ... you do what now? *shudder* Epidural? Yes. Definitely. I want five please. The husband will just take the gas. And a blindfold probably. And a chair which will allow him to keep his head between his knees for the duration of the fun stuff. And someone exceptionally large (or several normal sized someones) to catch him when he faints if he's stupid enough to take a squiz at the business end. There'd better be blimmin creme bruleee on the menu at Birthcare is all I can say.
Anyway. That whole 12 weeks to go thing was supposed to be a segue of sorts into what we've been doing lately, not an entire post on whatever I was on about.
When the penny dropped (I heard a marvellous version of that saying the other day ... something about the penny dropping, rolling down something and clunking somewhere else ... it was very clever. Can't remember it though. I should have written it down) that Cuinn had reached the milestone whereby he'd have a fighting chance if he was born (actually what did it was re-booking for our obstetrician appointment tomorrow and realising that it's the second to last 4 week appointment before we go down to 2 weekly and then weekly check ups), it also dropped somewhat more loudly a wee while later that he could potentially be a toad and give us all hysterics, even though we're hoping that he's more his father than his mother, and that he's far too comfortable splayed out on his uterus couch playing whatever version of xbox he's got in there to be getting all impatient-like about this in utero growing business. But, you have to think of these things, and as soon as I did a vague but insistent sense of anxiety set in that I needed to get organised. Just in case. The husband did venture to suggest that if for some reason Cuinn did come this early, he'd be in hospital for ages so we'd have plenty of time to buy whatever we needed. I've pretty much been hoping ever since that no one will actually notice that the husband's gone missing and that there's a rather large patch of freshly turned earth in our back yard ...
I was very good - I made a list instead of just going shopping, and over about 2 weeks I thought about it, took things off it, put things on, changed quantities, stewed on why I wanted what I wanted and whether it was a valid reason (why did I 'need' 2 plastic bottles instead of glass ones, when plastic ones are 3 times the price? Maybe I did, maybe I didn't, though I did get them anyway on the basis that I'm perfectly happy with glass at home, but plastic for going in the baby bag, or to the park, or anywhere else it could be annihilated where it's not easy to clean up, seemed sensible) blah blah etc etc, and eventually managed to shave quite a bit off the end bill. I still have no idea whether I should have gone with onesies or separates, but I opted for half and half on the basis that whichever works out to be best, I can make do for a couple of months and then just run with my preference for the next size up (crap I forgot to get singlets for under separates).
I'm pretty sure that we have everything we'll need. I don't feel any anxiety that we don't anyway, even if we do end up finding out in due course that we have nothing we'll actually need and everything we'll probably never lay a hand on.
We also made sure that we had the carseat ready to go in the car by making sure that the anchor bolt was fitted, and that we had everything we needed eg. the belt extension we didn't have, but we found we needed when the car belt proved too short. And there there was the oh-bollocks-the-carseat-has-every-safety-feature-under-the-sun-but-doesn't-fit-in-the-backseat-of-the-car-rear-facing-reclined-for-a-newborn moment, and we found it necessary to add a baby capsule to the list. Argh. On which note, I'll say a very loud bless Pal Katherine for coming to the rescue on that front. I'm assuming it'll work like a charm - Jazz seemed to think it was all good anyway.
In a moment of uttery nesty-madness, I even cleaned out the wardrobe in his room and made sure it only had kiddly supplies stacked in it. Of course, that does sound a bit more impressive than it really is - although his wardrobe is nice and organised, I highly recommend not even thinking about opening the wardrobe door in the end spare room. I'm still not sure the best way to go about getting into that to clean it out when the mood strikes, assuming that it may do at some stage. Either that, or at some point, a guest is going to want to use it. I might wait a few weeks and then send the unsuspecting husband down there to retrieve something for me and let everything fall out of the wardrobe all over him. That really does seem like the best plan.
So muchos organisyos has been taking place over the last few weeks. That, and 'enjoying it while it lasts' has been the order of the day as far as sleep, relaxation and spending time together just spending time together, musing over whether the kid will be a ginger, and cursing the little demon when he goes to ground for a few days and refuses to move even so much as a muscle to let us know that he's perfectly happy and just having an extended snooze thanks.
Oooooh! There has been vege gardeny goodness though, which I'll tell you about and provide photos of. In the meantime, those of you who know me well can amuse yourselves having hysterics at the thought of me trying to do anything that involves plants, let alone edible ones (the husband won't even let me water the house plants because as soon as they see me they die), but I can assure you that so far all is well, because there aren't actually any plants involved yet. But, for now, I'm going to have a sleep.
Zzzzzzz...
(Also - just a wee end note ... if any of this doesn't make sense, I wouldn't hassle yourself complaining about it because I don't really care. Such is the joy of pregnancy-induced serenity from my perspective. Tra la la)
Monday, 27 October 2008
There's a post in here somewhere ...
A girl knows that when even her dad complains that the blog posting has become a bit non-existent, that she really should try and jump start a few brain cells enough to give some form of update.
Unfortunately, I can't find the jumper-leads just at the minute, so I'll give you an updated kiddly-house pic instead to tide you over.
28 weeks.
Unfortunately, I can't find the jumper-leads just at the minute, so I'll give you an updated kiddly-house pic instead to tide you over.
28 weeks.
Monday, 20 October 2008
'twas a day for awesome conversations
Courier delivering who knows what to the office (I probably should have checked in case it was a little bit vital I guess), looks at my stomach and said "You look about the same size as my sister!"
Me, completely at a loss as to the appropriate and/or expected response to this "Oh. Yeah?"
Courier, nodding enthusiastically, apparently pleased with himself though I have no idea why "Yep"
Me, still at a loss but building up to asking how long his sister has to go because really, what the hell else am I going to say? "Ohhh...?"
Courier "Yeah. Do you have about three weeks to go?"
Me "Uhhh. No. About three months."
Courier, eyes wide, making sure that the door was where he left it, and there were no sharp objects in my immediate reach, looks back at the stomach and can't help himself "Geeeez!!!"
And then runs (yes, runs) out of the office.
Me, completely at a loss as to the appropriate and/or expected response to this "Oh. Yeah?"
Courier, nodding enthusiastically, apparently pleased with himself though I have no idea why "Yep"
Me, still at a loss but building up to asking how long his sister has to go because really, what the hell else am I going to say? "Ohhh...?"
Courier "Yeah. Do you have about three weeks to go?"
Me "Uhhh. No. About three months."
Courier, eyes wide, making sure that the door was where he left it, and there were no sharp objects in my immediate reach, looks back at the stomach and can't help himself "Geeeez!!!"
And then runs (yes, runs) out of the office.
So, siblings DO have their uses
My youngest rang yesterday to wish me and Al a happy wedding anniversary.
Bless him, he was a day out, which is extremely fortunate for me because said wedding anniversary is today and I'd forgotten entirely.
I'd intended to wake up this morning with the significant-date detail firmly etched in my memory so that I could remind the husband what a clever thing he did all those years ago, and I was close. I managed to recall the significant-date detail at approximately 8.30am on my way to work in the midst of what was close enough to a diabetic coma after a polycose test at Diagnostic (vile, vile thing. I really don't see how giving you a horrendous amount of glucose or whatever is a good way to see if you have diabetes. Poor Cuinn has been in hybernation all. day. And frankly, I don't blame him. I felt like complete shite too), and quickly telephoned the husband before my memory went funky again.
Me "Happy anniversary!"
The husband "Oh! Yeah! 8 Years!!"
Me "Uh. No. It's just feels like 8 years. It's 7."
Him "Oh. Really?"
We're all about the romantic and heart-warming in our house.
Still, it's better than last year - last wedding anniversary I lost the diamond out of my engagement ring.
Bless him, he was a day out, which is extremely fortunate for me because said wedding anniversary is today and I'd forgotten entirely.
I'd intended to wake up this morning with the significant-date detail firmly etched in my memory so that I could remind the husband what a clever thing he did all those years ago, and I was close. I managed to recall the significant-date detail at approximately 8.30am on my way to work in the midst of what was close enough to a diabetic coma after a polycose test at Diagnostic (vile, vile thing. I really don't see how giving you a horrendous amount of glucose or whatever is a good way to see if you have diabetes. Poor Cuinn has been in hybernation all. day. And frankly, I don't blame him. I felt like complete shite too), and quickly telephoned the husband before my memory went funky again.
Me "Happy anniversary!"
The husband "Oh! Yeah! 8 Years!!"
Me "Uh. No. It's just feels like 8 years. It's 7."
Him "Oh. Really?"
We're all about the romantic and heart-warming in our house.
Still, it's better than last year - last wedding anniversary I lost the diamond out of my engagement ring.
Friday, 17 October 2008
For my parents
and other associated family members who'll get it. Al and I saw this on TV the other night, and I actually had to go to the loo because I laughed so hard there was a question of whether I may, all jokes aside, actually pee myself.
Remind you of anyone ...?
Remind you of anyone ...?
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