Woah to 2

WE ARE HAVING ANOTHER BABY *klaxon*

We're going to be a family of 4. Two children. A second spud due for arrival in September. Woah.

I still find it quite mind blowing that my husband and I coped (?!) with the secrecy of those early pregnancy days, whilst our first born was having the worst health experiences of his little life so far. Such a dramatic overlap.

The six weeks of knowing there's a new human growing, but weren't yet scanned and in the 'safe zone', all the while being tested in ways that you hope to never be tested as a parent... I found that really tough. My emotions went through the ringer; wanting to do everything for my son yet trying to stay calm for the unborn. I wanted to shout from the rooftops that we were expecting another child, so please bear with me if I seem wildly overemotional. And yes I would like some gas and air in the ambulance, thank you please. However, we had to make sure our son was all right and another few weeks of sshing about the bab wouldn't hurt. Now we've been scanned. We've seen the tiny spud. My rooftop shouting can really take off.

We actually found out we were expecting the day before our son's first seizure episode. Talk about highs and lows in a condensed space of time! But due to terrible period maths on my part, I had no idea how pregnant I was. I did guessing based on whether I took multiple tampons to my Christmas do - even with that, I wasn't sure if that meant I was nearly finished or had just come on? So in short. No. I don't know when my last period was. I just knew that the four different tests all suggested that there wasn't going to be another period anytime soon. All sticks pointed to POSITIVE.

It was all very surreal because that technically meant that we were going to be parents of two. Jesus. The toddler terrible twos are very much a thing we're in the middle of - so what happens when you have a toddler and a newborn?! I once heard the phrase that when it comes to multiple children, two is a zoo. And there we were... positively pregnant with a second. Zoo, here we come.

Did the relevant admin with the midwife and got booked in for our dating scan. We were so close to being able to tell people (as long as all was well) and I could sense the anticipation of no longer having to dress in a sack and walk like Quasi Modo to hide the bump. Yet as I mentioned with my bad period maths, our scan meant we were actually only 10 weeks pregnant. So not able to officially announce the second bab - and equally not pregnant enough to have the first set of screenings, either. This also meant another due date after measuring the little thing. Back in two and a bit weeks to do the proper dating scan then!

The longest two weeks of all time, yet there we sat, looking at the new bean on the screen. I cried. I've felt so emotional this whole pregnancy - not sure if it's because of the timings/circumstances around when we found out? Or that my awareness has heightened with regards to pregnancy not going the way it's supposed to. It's most likely a combination of all, but at least I had the take home from that appointment that our new bean was doing well. Everything looked as it should. We also had another due date now they could actually measure crown to rump...it's a late September baby! (Minus a week or so due to elective c-section so my arse doesn't fall out in pushing, thank you Crohn's). So yes, now we can tell friends and family the good news. I can be preg and proud.

I'm so pleased that I took the time to blog every week when pregnant beforehand - and despite my slack writing since then - I have decided to do it again with this bab. I'm currently 15+6, my turn of the weeks being on a Wednesday. I want to document all the iddy biddy feelings and share how different (or not) they are from the first time round. And I'm going to try and be a trendy mum-to-be with an outfit post each week too. Because my word, this bab has popped right out. Muscle memory, or whatever it is... I don't know how I'm going to dress this speedy bump. Unitards? Tents? I'll be sure to share the weekly outcomes regardless.

X

Second Fitting

I say second; it was the second occasion and only one seizure, as opposed to the first instance of multiple seizures with what seemed like no end in sight.

It was our son’s outpatient appointment on Friday following up from everything that went on 6 weeks ago. Off we sent him to nursery, as per, on the basis we’d be picking him up at lunchtime to take him to the hospital. He’d been a bit snotty that morning so we gave him some Calpol – as you do – but didn’t think too much of it because he was fine? I got a call an hour later from the nursery to say that they’d taken his temperature and it was up past 39 now (considering he’d had medicine less than an hour prior, this didn’t sit too well). My husband went to collect him and I said how I’d meet them at the hospital as planned, later on that afternoon.

But then I got another call from the nursery, from my husband’s mobile. Not to panic, but he’s with our little boy and the ambulance is on its way as he’s having a seizure. My heart sank. I cried a bit.

I left work and drove straight to the nursery to find my two boys in the back of the ambulance, critical care on its way and prepping to do blue lights into town to the hospital. From what I could gather, there was only one seizure this time… but it lasted twenty minutes. So, it’s still atypical. We still don’t know why it’s happening. The only constant we have so far between these two occasions, is that his temperature had spiked. Except this time there were no obvious leads into the fitting, as in he wasn’t visibly ill on Thursday. Whereas last time he’d been a bit clingy and feeling sorry for himself that week and you could have said he was under the weather, somewhat. But off we went with the sirens to A&E at the children's hospital.

However this time I felt a strange sense of calm. He’d only had one fit. He’d stopped on his own. He didn’t need additional intervention for anything. Just some oxygen, I mean sure, his little bod was stressed. But he was talking, and he wanted to eat and he wanted to drink. As long as there were no more fits, we were just going to be observed by the doctors: the usual obs plus prepping his arms with ‘magic cream’ in case we needed bloods and (somehow?!) we needed to get a urine sample off of a toddler who is still learning how to wee in a toilet. Help.

Long story short, his obs were fine and remained stable the whole time we were there. The only bit of drama was when we tried to do his urine sample; he ended up doing a weewee all over his Daddy’s leg like a scene out of Dumb & Dumber. Little bit of a dribble to start with which we knew wouldn’t be enough for them to test. But then the wee just kept coming! The pot was filling up and then the power of the weeing meant it was now going in and essentially straight back out onto my other half. Oh how we laughed. The delirium/relief/tiredness from the morning’s events had kicked in. And there we were, in A&E, sick and injured children around us. And we were laughing. One of us covered in piss and the other one holding said piss, in a pot. And our boy, naked from the waist down looking at us like we’re mental. But the wee was fine. He was fine. We were allowed to go home.

So until he fits without a temperature, we’re assuming febrile convulsions, as before. If he fits otherwise then we most likely have an underlying issue that needs to be found. We’re due an EEG in the coming weeks to check his little head and then the rearranged outpatient appointment to follow.

It’s obviously just going to be one of those things and we simply have to hope that each time it happens, the seizures are few and far between and that we’ll get to the bottom of it sooner rather than later. Because it just makes you realise how fragile your little person is. But equally, how tough they are too.

X

Bad Fit

Clearly the universe gets the vibes when everything is lovely and settled because BOOM. It all went to shit over the weekend.

As a parent I am aware that there will be many occasions where as much as I want to, I cannot simply wrap up my son in cotton wool until he's 37. He will fall over at school and hurt himself. I'm sure there'll be times when he doesn't look where he's going and headbutts a wall. There have been times when he is beyond snotty and I just want to make him feel better. And then there are times like Friday evening when you simply feel like you cannot do anything to help your child and you're helpless.

My son had a temperature and I was asked to collect him from nursery on Friday (he'd also been teething), so naturally didn't think anything of it. We spent the afternoon on the sofa watching The Greatest Showman and having all the cuddles. And then just before tea time, he was laying on my tum - he looked up at me and it is a look I will never forget. He was trying to focus on me and went to put his hands on my face. But he couldn't. He couldn't focus. He couldn't reach me even though I was right in front of him. And then his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he began to fit.

I put him on his side on the floor as I wasn't sure if he was choking at the same time. Fortunately, (and god knows how it was at the EXACT time it happened), but my sister-in-law arrived and she's a paediatric nurse. We knew straightaway that we needed to call an ambulance - and my word, that conversation was the longest 11 minutes before the crew arrived. My husband was with our brother-in-law and they both raced home once we'd spoken. Seeing the father of my child burst through the door to quite the scene, must have been really tough for him. I knew how I felt about it all unfolding in front of me; I can only begin to imagine how he felt, too. In a nutshell, my son had three seizures before the ambulance arrived. Vomited twice. Shook. Was stiff. Was unresponsive. Couldn't focus. And I've never felt more useless. My sister-in-law did a sterling job as I flapped around the edges, packing a bag for the hospital and whenever we were able, hold onto our boy to tell him his Mummy was here, Daddy's here. We love him.

Everything is a wee bit of a blur and I guess by my writing about it now, is in some way a coping mechanism for what went on this weekend. The post may get a tad lengthy, but a lot happened that I need to get my head around.

In the ambulance, we had two pit stops: one to collect another member of ambulance crew to administer some medication whilst we went blue lights a'flashing through town. And then another to pick up the air ambulance doctors who had 'Critical Care' emblazoned on their jackets (!) My little boy was on the bed with all of these people around him, and I just sat there with my seatbelt on, holding the gas tank because I had nothing else to bring to the party. And my husband, bless him, sat in the front of the ambulance similarly helpless. We got to the children's hospital and headed straight to A&E - to resus - where what seemed like everyone who worked in the hospital was waiting for our arrival. [Anyone who's watched any kind of real life hospital programme on the tele knows it's not the best if they ring the red phone. The critical care doctors had rang the red phone before our arrival. THE RED PHONE.]

Never have either myself or the husband wanted to pick up our boy and tell him that everything is going to be ok...and it actually be ok. In that instant. Be able to make it better for him now.

Unfortunately despite all the medicines in the world for seizures, nothing stopped him fitting. Until they stuck paraldehyde up his tiny bottom; a last resort before a general anaesthetic. At this point, one of his seizures had lasted 50 minutes - and I thought that 11 minute phone call had seemed like a lifetime. Jesus, was I wrong. They ran a CT scan as well as did a chest x-ray and as far as we could tell, there was nothing major to report on either of them. We just had to play the waiting game on the High Dependency Unit overnight.

Fortunately there were no more fits on our first night in hospital (his body must have been exhausted and that makes me so sad for him), but we waited to see the neurologist team that following morning anyway. Our little person who we made was struggling to bear any weight on his own two feet, he was still really floppy and lethargic and had the oddest gurning going on; his tongue kept coming out like a camel's and his speech was all slurred. All we could do was hope that these symptoms were down to the fact he was off his little rocker the night before and that rather than them be symptoms of something more serious, they were instead side effects of the drugs he'd had. Hopefully with a good night's sleep they'd wear off and disappear? The consultant decided that it wasn't worth the risk and that our son would need to have a lumbar puncture. In case you didn't know (we didn't) a lumbar puncture is a procedure in which they put a needle in between the bones of the lower back, into the fluid around the spinal cord and the fluid can then be extracted for testing. We got told we were testing for meningitis - as well as anything else that might have caused the seizures. They tried to do the lumbar puncture with some sedation, but despite not being 100% himself, our little lad was too wiggly for them to do it on Saturday.

Which leads me onto Sunday. Our son had been treated with antibiotics from arrival as if it was meningitis, whilst also having antibiotics for all things viral and bacterial; it's gibberish to me, but all you need to know is they were so on top of his care from the moment I dialled '999' and I am forever grateful to the NHS.

But yes. The needle in the spine. Poor chap was nil by mouth from 6am Sunday morning as he was due to go into theatre in the afternoon. My husband and I took him down and as only one parent was allowed into the anaesthetist bit, I went in with our boy after my other half kissed him and told him he loved him. Now I've had 17 operations. 16 with general anaesthetic (one was a c-section, so a jazzier op than anything Crohn's related). Yet holding him in my arms as they administered the knockout fluid through the cannula in his little hand was something else. Hearing my little boy say it was 'chilly' and holding his arm as the cold fluid travelled up his forearm - a feeling I knew so well. And then just like that, within no more than 2 seconds... he was asleep. I kissed him on the head and told him I loved him, too. Told them to look after him and went out to meet my husband. And we waited.

We got a call exactly one hour later: we left him at 2:44pm and the ward called at 3:44pm to say we could get him from Recovery. As before, only one parent could go so this time my husband went to collect him and I waited to give them both a big squeeze.

Should probably throw in for good measure here that our son was definitely feeling more like himself that morning as he was able to do standing. And walking. Or as he ended up doing, a quick turn near the only cupboard in the room and split his eyelid open on his brow bone. So for dramatic effect, we then ended up with not only a lumbar puncture scheduled in - but a few stitches too for the newly developing black eye and laceration. Don't do things by half son! With regards to theatre though, all went to plan and the results from the lumbar puncture were due to trickle through over the next 24 hours. My husband and I continued to tag-team the hospital nighttime shifts and had everything crossed for some good news.

Unfortunately for the little one though, there were a few moments in the nighttimes where he had to have his cannulas removed/changed for his antibiotics. Hearing your child scream out for Mummy and Daddy whilst sobbing because of pain is so so tough to see. When the final cannula was removed on his last night, he turned to me when he woke up and just announced that 'baddy...gone' and gestured to his blood-stained foot. My heart melted for him.

But onward and upwards we went! The test results were starting to come in and we were looking good for it not being meningitis. However the fact it was still being mentioned due to some outstanding test results, meant none of us could fully relax just yet. He was definitely more like himself. But we wanted to make sure we were going to leave with the best case scenario: that being that it was a complex febrile convulsion, and hopefully there's no lasting damage - with these fitting episodes few and far between.

And that is what we got: complex febrile convulsions. That was our diagnosis on the discharge letter yesterday.

So after 5 days in hospital (and what seemed like forever) we were going home, together.

X

NB: I had febrile convulsions myself as a child until I was around 9. I knew what they were - but under no circumstances did I think I would see my own son have a seizure in front of me. Multiple seizures, in fact.

Apart from writing this post as a way for me to process the weekend's activity, I also wanted to put it out there because it was such a scary unknown for us as parents. That guilt I had was horrible; that maybe I should have been able to stop the seizures happening. But the doctors explained that generally speaking, with febrile convulsions it'll kind of happen regardless. As in, he didn't have a fit because I didn't do enough to make him feel well. 

And now we know that if it's to happen again, we just do exactly as before...ring 999 and let the emergency services do what they do best.

10 Year Challenge

You may have been aware of the latest internet craze called the #10yearchallenge? Essentially a then and now (or at least a 'then') from 2009. Why someone felt 2019 was the year to look back from is beyond me? Surely 2020 would have been better, as a multiple of 10. Or maybe I'm just thinking too much about this.

Anyway. I hopped on the bandwagon on this drizzly Wednesday, after many a day of scrolling through various social media platforms seeing people's throwback to a decade ago. Glow ups, etc. Lovely time. And I put up a picture of me from ten years ago.

But it wasn't until I started looking through my own photos properly from 2009 that it dawned on me: I've been having my own 10 year challenge. January 2009 was the month I got diagnosed with Crohn's. 2009 was the year that what I thought I knew of my health was all change for forever more. A whole decade of diagnosed IBD.

I pretty much spent all of my 20s - in one way or another - poorly. In hospital. Lying down because it hurt to get up. Sleeping on a narcoleptic level. Fat. Thin. Steroid moonface. Taking medication. Injecting medication. Having an IV for medication. Keyhole surgery. Robot surgery. Slice me open surgery. Hospital admissions. Inpatient. Outpatient. Too many perianal abscesses to mention. Too many visits to a toilet. Too many medical professionals looking up my asshole.

In January 2009 I was presented with a challenge I didn't know I'd have to face; a challenge that had mini-challenges en route. But Jesus Christ it has absolutely been the making of me.

And here we are now! Yes OK, I'm like 17 operations in (who's counting?!) But I am in my 30s. Married. Mama. Now a homeowner (what a palaver that was - will pick up that topic of convo another time). Back working on a magazine portfolio that I love so much. Things are actually really good! And I'm so happy that everything finally seems to be falling into place for me and mine.

Sure, I still have to do an assessment of where all toilets are if I'm out for a family walk. Or there might be times where Mummy just needs to have a quick powernap before we watch Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles for the 6th time that day. There might also be times - like now - when I'm sitting on a train and I catch my reflection in the window and it's apparent that my tired bags have developed their own bags. Eye bags on eye bags. It's quite a look and I don't think any form of makeup layering is going to help this face out.

I don't mind you see, because besides being rather tired, I am content. I have spent three days in London doing meetings and what not for work and it brings me joy. But not as much joy as stepping off the train to be greeted by my husband and son will bring me. My boys. My little team.

To be honest...I'm not sure where this blog post is going. Am I waffling? I just knew that I had to take a moment to acknowledge the ol' decade long anniversary of knowing my insides were broken. And that however shit things might have seemed at times, it works itself out. Ish*

Here's to the next ten years.

X

*I mean nothing is a guarantee. But all in all, I guess if you can find the positives where possible and then just ensure to have a ruddy good time?

PS: I'm running out of sentences to apologise for my MIA blogging. I do get annoyed with myself that it's so infrequent. But I guess it's going to have to be as and when, probably the best way forward. So until next time...(whenever that is!)

Who Am I?

It seems my blogging hiatuses are getting wildly out of hand. Over seven months this time. Maybe you're wondering who I even am? It's been so long!

I suppose my main reason for the break was to focus on getting better from the crazy flare I had over Winter, and to try and get back to 'normal' with regards to routine in both work and home. And I got there! Ish. I mean, I've been back at work properly since February and am also now in the depths of trying to buy a house which can go on to become my home.

Whenever I have a break from writing it's always quite a challenge for me to get back on that hypothetical bike; there's always that moment of WHAT IF NOBODY WANTS TO READ THIS ANYMORE?! Yet I've decided that actually, that's fine. Because I know I find writing therapeutic. I know I enjoy sharing my thoughts.

So for anyone that is reading/cares, brief summary of (essentially) 2018 thus far:

• Back working full time
• Been a wife for nearly eleven months
• Off all meds to try and reset my body/see what state it's left in
• Turned 30
• Continued to watch my son become the funniest little human 
• Trying to buy a house

I don't know if it's because I've had a milestone birthday?? But I've done a lot of thinking this year. And more recently in particular, I've done a lot of thinking about what direction I want my writing to go.

I think I've mentioned it before, in that this obviously began as a way for me to talk about my Crohn's and was started at a time where I was due the largest operation I'd had. I was shit scared. I didn't know what lay ahead, but I was already aware of the duff hand I'd been dealt re my health. Time passed, I blogged about the arse situations my body had thrown at me - and I'd like to think that on the whole I coped (!) with it all rather well. Then I had a reassessment of here blog and decided Hattie, etc. was the way forward. I was more than my Crohn's. And I wanted this platform to be a representation of that. The natural progression was to then write about being preg - which honestly, I look back at all my posts from when I was that first-time mama-to-be and I am so so glad I wrote as often as I did. Things that for the life of me, I cannot remember happening, yet I have all my thoughts and feelings sitting there in this hub to relive.

That then leads me to now, though. Not pregnant. Still very much an active Crohn's patient. Where do I go from here? What do I write about? What do I have to say?

There are things that have happened that quite frankly I would have loved to have written about so openly, but as with anything...time and a place...and often it's not the right time. Or necessarily the right place. It can be a challenge to work through life's hurdles anyway, let alone when you get bad news; or terribly sad news; or news that you would just rather have on another day when you feel like you can deal with it better.

One thing I've learnt as I've got older (and also since I've become a mother), is that there are a lot of things that I have no control over - try as I might - but it's how I deal with situations, which will help shape me as a person. Who I am as a mum. Who I am at work. Who I am as an individual. Who I am as a wife. Who I am within my family. Who I am as a friend.

And maybe that's what I write about now? Who I am. Who actually am I?

I'm not promising any fantastic content that will provide you with endless laughs or equally all the tears. But as I delve deeper into my 30s I plan on writing as many of my experiences as I go: family holidays, being a mother to a glorious little boy, tales of being a wife, buying a family home and the subsequent interior design (FINALLY. Time to release my inner Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen *puts on a pussybow blouse with a fluted sleeve*) And maybe also for that one day in the future when I'm a mama-to-be again. Perhaps even some of my outfits, whilst I'm at it.

Because that's who I am. I am all of those things. I am like a human dodecahedron and I want to write all about it.

X

Dancing Humbug

First Year

One full year since we welcomed our little boy into the world. And now we're parents to an already independent, chatty, funny little boy who has (somehow) managed to use his eyebrows to express his feelings - in context - since the day he arrived.

I say it every year, but this last year has been one of the quickest in my life. It has also been simultaneously one of the most rewarding and challenging.

Let's take it back to the start...

Anyone that followed my blog previously will have read the journey we went on throughout my pregnancy with regards to my Crohn's. Around this time last year it was my elective c-section date; elective due to previous abdominal Crohn's operations; c-section so my arse didn't fall out when pushing. Our bags were packed and off we headed to the hospital on the Friday morning ready to have a baby by lunchtime. And we did! Everything went as planned as it can and we were home by the Sunday. A weekend of new baby.

How that was a year ago is utterly beyond me. Even when looking at photos, it still doesn't quite compute that I've been pregnant, had a baby and now he's one.

But it's times like this weekend just gone, at his first birthday party (which let's be honest, he had no clue about, because why would he?!) and seeing him with his little mannerisms and movements, his interactions with others; it's intriguing watching him grow and develop into a proper little boy. How much he's changed over the last few months in particular - so close to walking...a few waddles and then a slow sit down to the floor again - yet you can see that determination there. It's fascinating and it makes me excited for what else is to come as he continues to grow up and become his own person.

Can we just take a moment to discuss a child's first birthday party though? What a strange party to have. The guest of honour is completely unaware of the occasion; it's mainly for photos and the memories for others and to look back and say "this is what we did for your first birthday". Because you can't do nothing, it's their first birthday! First ever celebration of birth! Equally you know that from age 2 and onwards, the parties will be much better... So you do baking in rainbow coloured sponge, you get the pink wafers and party ring biscuits and you display the finger food along side the bottles of squash. And at least I finally had a good reason to eat kids' party food: I was hosting an actual kid's party this time.

But being surrounded by all of our family and friends, it made me ever so thankful and realise how lucky we truly are as our own family to have such wonderful people around us.

Because it gets tough sometimes. Parenting is genuinely all the clichés you get told beforehand. I have learnt so much in what seems like such a short space of time. You are thrown in the deep end and learn on the job as a new parent - each day is different and throws challenges at you - some days are harder than others, but that's ok. The majority of people will have been through it too, at some point. And even if you are doing everything in your power to provide the best for your child, you will still read an article that makes you question how you are as a mummy or daddy, or hear the advice givers and nay-sayers and wonder what more you could be doing. My son makes me proud every day. And I have to know that as his mummy I am doing everything I can for him. And so is his daddy.

Happy First Birthday Son.
We love you very much.

X

All New

*I've amended the heading for my blog, as I'm not sure how long 'new' lasts with regards to being a new mama. And am now no longer wedding planning as I'm a wife. But Crohn's is still ever present. We can talk about that another time perhaps?

Since I last blogged...

• We relocated from London to the Westcountry
• Moved in with the in-laws
• I came off of Maternity Leave and am now a full time working mother
• We got married!
• Had a minimoon, sans son
• It's our son's first birthday

So everything's still a bit new for me.

Having a blogging hiatus seemed slightly more acceptable when I sat back and realised how much change was happening in my life. I also feel that I very much wildly underestimated what the above tasks would entail; in both a physical and mental sense.

We'd covered all major life events in a period of around 8 weeks - never mind the sister-in-law's wedding, cousin's wedding and all the hens and stags in between. I think by the end of October I had decided that 'time' wasn't a thing any more. It didn't exist. It either went way too fast or chunks of time seemed to disappear without warning; not enough hours in the day, etc. etc.

So you're probably thinking, everything seems to have calmed down a bit now - why hop back onto the blogging figurative bicycle and share my thoughts? Well...this is by no means a 'woe is me' post; however I've mentioned before that sometimes slapping the keyboard with my feelings is quite the therapeutic task in itself. I've been thinking a lot about blogging of late - whether it be to help actually process all the change that's gone on, the fact my son is reaching his first birthday milestone and all that it brings with it (parenting highs, lows, challenges and rewards), that my own little family has done a full relocation of living and work, life as a newlywed (and what that even means?!), or that my Crohn's is still a pain in the arse and it bothers me.

I want to post about each of the main topics over the next week or so, as I'm currently signed off work (there's a wee insight into how my Crohn's is doing! *collective sigh*) But having blogged on and off for the last four years, I know when things have been on the tougher side, writing has really helped. Equally when things are on the lovely side, it's really enjoyable to write and share those moments, too.

And what better way to start again, than in two days time when it's our first born's FIRST BIRTHDAY. He's been here a year already. Out of the womb and our bab for a whole 12 months. I still don't feel like I was pregnant long enough to have grown him, let alone see him doing proper human things on his own like an independent chap. But he's here. And he's going to be one this weekend.

For he's a jolly good fellow...

Side note: having had a full life change of geographical location, working situation, my marital status and introduction to parenthood - I'm now trying to work out what Hattie, etc. actually means. So I'll get back to you on that once I've worked out what direction this here blog is going in.

X

I'm Pooped

If I've had an unintentional break from blogging, I always find it easier to pick it up again when it's Crohn's related. I don't know if that's because my Crohn's escapades always leave me wondering and subsequently that means I've got a lot on my brain that I need to let out. But either way. Here we are.

So as you are aware, I have Crohn's Disease and last year I also fell pregnant. As I mentioned many a time in my pregnancy posts, I considered myself super lucky to be able to enjoy every aspect of pregnancy like a 'normal' person with my Crohn's essentially putting itself in remission whilst I grew a human.

Well, said human is now out of me and 10 weeks old on Friday. And lo and behold we're back aboard the gastro train and it's like my Crohn's never left. (Wah).

Casually still waiting to be seen. Everyone else had left. Even the cafe had closed.

I had my catch up with my gastro consultant last week for what can essentially be described as a prelim to what looks to be an MOT for my postpartum body; all the bloods due to be taken and a small bowel and pelvic MRI in the diary. I think I spent the first month or so of motherhood pretending that I was perhaps more well than I actually was. No one should be shitting blood at the frequency I am and I think I tried to just get on with it for longer than I should have. And now I'm where I am now, which is scared to eat for fear of the impending bloodbath out my back nethers.

This in itself is a catch 22 as I'm still breastfeeding (technically combination feeding but the boobies are still required multiple times a day) and as any breastfeeding mother will know, it makes you oh so hungry. Any new parents will also know that looking after a new baby makes you rather tired (!) So this, coupled with the blood poos is all adding up to one mama who's so pale she's see-through and in need of a ruddy good lie down for about 8 days.

Don't get me wrong, I was never expecting my Crohn's to calm down when preg and I also wasn't expecting it to stay away once my bab was born. But if I was to say that I'm not sad about these latest developments, I'd be lying.

However I have to look at the bigger picture now I have a son and my stubbornness and my pride has to take a backseat when it comes to my health and looking after my baby boy. Would I rather stay breastfeeding but getting more poorly because I don't want to take certain medicines? Or do I take the medicines that would mean I'd have to stop breastfeeding, but can ultimately feel better? Obviously it's the latter. I just hope that the MRI isn't complete doom and that there's something we can do in the short-term so I can get back to being mama. Even if it's a mama who shits a lot.

And my poor bab having to get dragged on his Sleepyhead into the bathroom 10+ times a day. Hopefully he's far too young to be scarred by the experience. But everybody poos. his mama just does it more than your average.

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PS: My hospital is in Westminster. The day of my appointment was also the day that they had to close and evacuate Westminster Bridge due to a WWII bomb discovery in the River Thames. Let's hope that's not an omen of any kind, hey.

Cheers & Change

Earlier on this week I posted a well overdue message of thanks to our friends and family, as we've only got around to going through everything now the Christmas break is all done. (So again) wow; the other half and I are completely overwhelmed with everyone's kind words and generosity with their gifts. I just wanted to reiterate how thankful we are...tip top welcoming of our son into the world, guys.

When reading through the congratulations and looking at photos from the first couple of weeks you realise how much your little human changes - and how quickly it happens. Other parents tell you to make the most of when they're a newborn because it doesn't last very long. They're not wrong! Me and the little fella had his six week check up today with the Health Visitor and as he was lying there being weighed, he looked like a proper little boy. Already. Not the small human lump he has been since his arrival back in November. There he was, his big open eyes looking around. The cooing and gurgling (and grunting?!) Lifting his head up and checking out the scenery. His face has changed so much.

But because he is only six weeks - that's not even 50 days old yet - I still get cuddles with my tiny spud; his little legs all froggy and tucked up like he's in my womb. There is honestly no feeling like it. I HAVE A SON. WE MADE A TINY HUMAN AND NOW HE'S HERE IN REAL LIFE. Barmy isn't it?!

As you can sense I'm still having moments of what the ruddy hell?! We. Are. Parents. It really is quite the baptism of fire with almost every day bringing a new experience as a first-time mummy and daddy. FYI, it's true what they say; you can read all the advice books in the world beforehand, but nothing actually prepares you for when your small human comes home.

But he is here. And now we officially have our own line on the family tree.
(It's true. He's legally registered as a human being and everything)
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And then there were three

Quite the cliffhanger I left you guys on...

But our bump to baby day was just that; and now we're 6 weeks in to being a little family of three thanks to our new addition of a little baby BOY! My slight inkling towards the end of pregnancy suggesting my bab be might be a girl was proved wrong at 12:37pm on 18th November as we welcomed a tiny human boy via c-section, weighing 6lbs 9oz.

I had every intention of writing about the whole birthing experience sooner than now - but I became utterly consumed by our new baby and I wanted to just enjoy my new role as Mummy to our spud. If you happen to follow me on Instagram then there's no doubt you would have seen my new family goings on as I continue to fill my feed with Baby Spam. FYI, Baby Spamming looks highly unlikely to stop in 2017 so by all means jump on board, chaps. Or don't. I don't mind, 'tis your call.

The last six weeks have flown by though and it's amazing how much has gone on during that time. My venture into parenthood has, generally speaking, been one of the most incredible things that's happened in my life so far and I feel it deserves a more detailed blog post (which will follow in the New Year). I say 'generally speaking' as naturally when you try anything new, there will always be trials and tribulations as you find your feet. And my word first-time parenthood has some steep learning curves! Like, I don't know, learning how to function with no sleep and a baby on your boob. Wouldn't change it for the world, mind.

For now however, I wanted to say that I hope you all had a smashing Christmas and enjoy this evening as we say ta ta and farewell to 2016 and look forward to what 2017 has to offer. But I also wanted to say a massive thank you for reading my ramblings as this year saw me take on my biggest adventure yet.

Happy New Year from one hormonal and proud Mummy. Here's to doing the 'pump and dump' so Mummy can have a few glasses of bubbles or a wkd blue.

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3 More Sleeps

Just 3 more days for my to fill my time as a pregnant woman, waddling around with a small human inside me.

I can't quite believe we're here already. Mentally I feel about 30 weeks pregnant - like I just haven't been pregnant long enough to be able to have a baby on Friday. Yet physically I am more than aware that it's almost that time.

As I mentioned in my last post, I have now compiled all my #bumpingalong photos and it's amazing to see the change in my body. Especially when there are particular photos I see and I remember thinking wowza my bump is huge when in reality it was probably week 18 and more of a swollen bloat-type bump compared to what it is now!

This is my final #bumpingalong at Week 38; non-maternity clothes (Topshop size 12 dress and a size 12 cardigan from Primark), paired with thick and wild pregnancy hair that I don't quite know what to do with.

And here is my journey from Week 14 to Week 38 with a few extra bump shots thrown in for good measure...

Admittedly the lack of consistency with square photos has really niggled at my OCD, but hey ho. The sentiment is the same when you compare the earlier photos to the ones from the third trimester. So big and round.

#bumpingalong aside, I have spent the last few days of my nesting getting my head around the forthcoming c-section, as I realised I haven't thought about this procedure the way I would have with my Crohn's ops. I'm not too concerned with the recovery part of the c-section because of having had previous abdominal operations, I'm pretty used to negotiating my way around with pain down that way (oh so glam). However saying that, I've never had to recover from a major op with a newborn. So will let you know how that goes!? It's when you let yourself think about what is actually being done though; cutting through the abdomen and uterus. But I just want what's best for baby; I am confident and happy with both the gastro team and midwives that have looked after me at my hospital. I'm in good hands and that's all I can ask for.

Whereas my Crohn's ops were a literal pain in the arse accompanied with hope that it'll calm down a wee bit and edge me to remission, at the end of this hospital visit we will have the most amazing little person in our arms; someone that we made and are ready to love unconditionally for the rest of our lives. This is why I am so excited for Friday - if not before - as it will be life changing in the most wonderful way and it's an adventure that we are more than ready to begin, as our own little family. Our own line on the family tree. A little unit of three ready to take on the world.

Now to make some more soups for the freezer. Mama's gotta eat.

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Penultimate Week

And everything is slowly winding down/building up (depending on how you look at it) to the day our baby arrives.

Week 37's #bumpingalong was an odd one as I realised it was the penultimate photo in the little series I started out of curiosity way back at Week 14. This week's outfit was a monochromatic affair in maternity leggings from ASOS with non-maternity jumper from New Look in a size 12 and the required winter accessories for these dark evenings.

Jazzy hat in London town

Also had my final night out out as a preg for a 30th birthday; wore a non-maternity dress from Topshop in a size 10 but it's ever so stretchy and kind. Although when getting ready had the whole meltdown of NOTHING FITS ME ANYMORE. WHEN IS THIS BABY GOING TO BE OUT OF ME. I CAN'T SEE MY FEET. HOLD ME. CAN YOU DO UP MY SHOE. But I had a lovely time and it was ever so bizarre being asked about how far gone I was only to reply with "oh, we'll have our baby in two weeks". So surreal - especially now we're a handful of days away. Where is the time going?!

Multiple me to hide the kitchen

I think I'm going to compile all the #bumpingalong photos together to see how my body has changed during this pregnancy; the nearer we get to meeting the small human, the more I've realised how much I'm going to miss my bump when it's gone. Like I've said before, I feel considerably lucky to have enjoyed my pregnancy as much as I have, as it is honestly one of the best experiences of my life. To essentially put my Crohn's into remission alone is something I never thought would happen - but to have gone on and been able to make the most of all that pregnancy brings has just been magical (heartburn aside). Makes me all sorts of emotional thinking about it (NB: pregnancy, not heartburn).

Talking of being totes emosh, I have given up with how wild my hormones have become in this last week. I will be the first to say I've been a nightmare. Not because I've been hard work and mean - but because I have been doing the type of crying when you get saggy shoulders and you just sit there like a sad sack, sobbing on the edge of the bed. But no, don't worry, I don't need anything. Just having a good cry *cue a concerned other half whilst the mascara drips down my face and onto the top of my bump leaving a dramatic watery black line*

And talking about my bump...

This is my bump at 37+4 and I look like a dinosaur egg. I'm still not very wide which is why I have moments when I think how have I got a 50cm and 3kg person in here?! But when I see myself at this angle I can definitely see where my baby is. Weighed myself this morning and I've put on a total of 18kg on since the end of February and it amazes me that just under a third of that will most likely be lost in a day. It must be the weirdest feeling walking around afterwards - the weight gain is so slow to then suddenly oh so much lighter. Floating almost.

Nesting is all but complete - with a variety of meals batch cooked and in the freezer for when we lose the ability to function and feed ourselves. If you want to know cooking things, I have listed these with the recipe inspirations on another post which you can get to here.

The last thing I want to do re nesting before the miniature one comes is another whizz around the house with the duster and the hoover in hand. And buy an outside bin. Otherwise I am more than content with my maternal preparations - with regards to the house anyway. Will post during the week about my emotional maternal prep for the impending events, as that's a whole other ball game.

And now to enjoy what is left of our last weekend as a two before we're a family of three...

Absolutely fine with having a child this coming week

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Baby Show-time

The other half was off work this last week and we were all sorts of busy with the final preparations for our small human; due to arrive in 16 days. I'm sorry - 16 days?! Time is not real life any more it seems...

Having been quiet on the blogging front it means there are a couple of #bumpingalongs to catch up on too.

Week 34 was at The Baby Show and I am a true ball-up-jumper vision. Standard maternity jeans from Topshop with a non-maternity Size L jumper from H&M.

At The Baby Show the man and I picked out our last (!) few - albeit key - items. We have opted for the iCandy Peach for the bab's travel system, collected our MaxiCosi Pebble Plus as well as a Nuna Leaf for their seat, plus a Baby Bjorn carrier. And some other bargain bits, because, Baby Show. Will let you know how they all work out once they're up and running as functional items with a real baby in them (still having moments of OH MY GOD WE'RE HAVING A BABY VERY SOON NOW)

Week 35 was also on location after our final hospital appointment with the midwife. Birth plan is finalised now, although we are aware that there is every possibility of it changing once labour and birth begins. Hopefully if everything goes as planned, there are some aspects to our bab's birth that are as 'normal' as can be in an elective c-section. But here I am wearing a variety of khaki items; maternity Topshop jeans, Size L t-shirt from H&M and my winter coat in a Size 8 from Topshop, also non-maternity. 'Baby on Board' badge and Big Ben an additional bonus.

And now to week 36 after an Autumnal walk and day date to the local brewery - keg in hand. Lemonade for me, of course. This outfit that I cobbled together is made up of my maternity jeans (sense the pattern of no other trousers fitting me anymore), a maternity shirt from Topshop with my non-maternity camo jacket and winter accessories. Comfort for the win still.

As it stands I am officially past 9 months pregnant now and as much as I am wanting baby to stay in until their 'due' date, I am beginning to understand the cliché phrases you see on the internet. This includes everything with regards to nesting - which FYI, I am still absolutely bossing - but also the memes of feeling like the last trimester of pregnancy lasts approximately 5426 days.

But hey. What's another 16 days until we're only counting down the hours?!

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Strong Nesting

I was born to nest. I am in my absolute element and what's even better is that now I'm on maternity leave I can nest away to my heart's content... antibacterial spray in hand, off I pop from room to room. I saw an image on the internet the other day which said: 

"Nesting is spending two hours cleaning out the junk in the drawer, because there is nothing babies dislike more than a misplaced Phillips head screw."

Internet banter there. But it sums it up perfectly. And I have actually become that mama to be!

I've had more trips to the local dump in the last few weeks than I think I have in the whole time we've lived here. I've put paperwork in date order, in folders with dividers and anything that can be, has been alphabetically ordered. I've also become one with both Ikea and Amazon Prime; there is no space left in our house that hasn't been put on the nesting to-do list.

Feeding area coming together nicely

Although my time off has been joyous thus far (I mean come on, it's been like four days), I still find the concept of being off work for up to a year most odd. Probably because it feels like I'm just on annual leave and I don't have my baby in my arms yet. I know once the miniature one arrives work will be the last thing on my mind, as I will be otherwise engaged as a mama. Strange that isn't it?! Once the human is out of me I will forever be someone's mother. Still Harriet. But always someone's mum.

A surprise baby shower, a hand-crafted leaving card, a book that's tracked my #bumpingalong. So many wonderful bits to see me off into motherhood...Will certainly miss my colleagues. But yes. I had a lovely send off from my work pals!

Baby shots and a face that I'm not too sure about

Miranda approves of my leaving card

With regards to being prepared for bab, we're pretty much there now. We're off to The Baby Show this weekend so hoping to get some bargains for the final few purchases. The main bits left to get are the pram and car seat - or as they're known these days, travel systems - our baby monitor and a carrier/sling. Any recommendations for the latter two items would be welcomed greatly! I've heard the Motorola video monitors are good? But open to options. Also heard that the Solly Baby wraps are amazing, although I can only see them online in the States - so a UK equivalent would be ace to know.

But anyway, I've got the inside of a cupboard to bleach.

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Planning a Planned Arrival

Can't quite believe we're so close now! We had our 34 week appointment today with the c-section doctors, which naturally got me thinking about how you plan for a planned arrival...

I'm very much in the stage of pregnancy where I am completely freaking out, my dreams are stupidly vivid, I can't sleep for baby movement and all I can do is worry about what lies ahead. Will I be a good mum? Will baby be ok? What actually happens in a caesarean? I've read a lot recently that confirms that all of the above is normal and of course it's good to share my thoughts because it's not unusual to worry. It's a huge thing, after all! We've made a human being. I'm just going to have to wait and see, as I can't get myself all worked up over the unknown (a mantra I lived by with my Crohn's).

But my appointment today made me a tad nervous; it's the same as with my Crohn's ops in that you essentially consent to everything and wait and see what we find when they open you up.

We had confirmation today that due to previous abdo operations, my Gastro team will be in the theatre with the c-section team, myself and my other half. Hopefully when they make the incision, my bowel and scar tissue haven't caused too much of a problem in which case the Gastro team can bid farewell and then we can get baby out in a routine way. If however it obstructs what needs doing to access baby, they'll do their bit and then let the obstetricians take over. A little revolving door of surgeons around my nethers, if you will.

Like with any surgery there are risks; although there's been talk of a stoma and colostomy beforehand when I had my resection back in 2013, I didn't realise that it could be something that pops up in regards to when I deliver my baby. I guess in my mind I kept my bum issues separate from my front bum bits. There are of course risks associated with a routine c-section too, with everything from wound infection and bleeding to a hysterectomy. So yes, I'm a little worried. But as I used to say with my Crohn's ops, I was just another bottom to them - and this is just another caesarean. We have planned as much as we can and all we can do is hope that everything runs smoothly! In 30 days time.

Now I'm officially on maternity leave (post following shortly) I am just going to put all my energy into nesting and try not to let my worries get the better of me. And I'm also going to avoid reading some of the shite on the internet about how a c-section is the "easy way out" and that I'm "not giving birth" as I've had my baby "surgically removed".

I'll have to get back to you on that.

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Pregnancy Lent

Kind of. We're now less than 40 days and 40 nights and there will probably be a lot of pancakes consumed by yours truly.

Officially (as I type) we have 37 days to go until our c-section date and the list of things to do/buy before the human arrives is getting that bit smaller; which means it's getting that bit more real still. I said at the start of blogging about my pregnancy that although it's Biology 101 for how a baby is made and grows, it is still one of the most fascinating things I have ever experienced in my life. I still consider myself extremely lucky to have had a relatively 'normal' pregnancy with regards to my Crohn's calming down - and if it comes back once bab is out, then I will cross that bridge when I get there. But at least I've been able to feel like I have carried this baby with little to no complications thus far. Just can't let my arse fall out at the final hurdle, to quote my gastro surgeon.

Talking of bottoms...seamless link...

I think more needs to be said about HOW CONSTIPATED YOU GET IN THE THIRD TRIMESTER. Let alone how you feel like Windy Miller with the air just falling out of you, top and bottom. I'm a disgrace. Thank god I've been with my other half for 9 years, because the romance has well and truly died recently! I'm not used to having bowel movements like a bus service on a Sunday in a village. My bowels pre-preg were a 10-15 times a day situation. I don't know how to deal with this once a day malarkey!? How do you people do it? I feel like it's just not enough. But hey, if bab slows down my digestive system to a snail's pace, then that is the less frequent shitting hand I've been dealt. It frees up so much time! Although saying that, the toilet dashes have been replaced by toilet dashes...just for a number one instead. But still so much quicker! Even if you need to do all the weeing, what with the baby pushing down on the organs. And sneezing still makes me nervous, mind - ruddy pelvic floors *squeezes muscles*

Did a version of a #bumpingalong for my 33 weeks (got to get the lift pics in whilst I can) and I'm kitted out in head to toe maternity Topshop. Even gave a nursing bra a run out and I felt so free. Big ol' wobbly mama-to-be boobies. And despite my breasts being the largest they've ever been in my life, my baby bump is so much further out - hence my human pyramid effect.

So yep, this week and it's my last week of work; all finished on Thursday. I will do a final work-based #bumpingalong and a post about maternity leave, as I'm already finding the concept quite odd. It's a real mix of emotions.

But for now, I think I've done a good bit of oversharing...

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The Age of the Potato

It's happened. I've become a human spud in the torso.

Had a christening over the weekend and despite feeling all sorts of lovely in my dress, looking back at photos I can see that yes - my body has become one big potato. My bump is very out now. And I've learnt that from this point forward, it's where I put on 1 to 2lbs/week as part of pregnancy. Let the expansion continue! It's also easier for me to get through gaps head on rather than turning sideways and knocking everything with the bab bump.

Here's my week 32 #bumpingalong (trying to stay on top of it!) and I am wearing maternity leggings from ASOS with a non-maternity tunic type dress from last year's Topshop in a size 12. The dress was a go-to when I was Crohn's bloated - 'tis nice and roomy in the middle and the pattern is also great camouflage.

Baby has been a regular hiccupper for a good few weeks; I read somewhere the other day that says if baby is hiccupping too much after 32 weeks that it's something to talk to the midwife about? Has anyone else heard this? I believe it's because it could mean the cord is around the small person's neck. Keeping an eye on that fo' sho. Although my first-time-parent anxiety is somewhat alleviated now we've reached a point in pregnancy where if baby arrives, we're medically kind of ok. Ish.

The movement from this baby though! It's incredible, albeit painful at times, how much they move around. And to feel an actual body not just seeing my belly wobble. The moving is making my other half oh so excited to meet our baby...it makes my heart swell seeing him like this. I can't wait!

Don't get me wrong I am still panicking about everything else that being a parent involves as there's only so much prep you can do before they're here. It's 45 days until this baby is definitely out of my womb and into my arms.

And this is my last full week at work.

HOLY SHITBALLS.

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Mama Fashion

Have been a tad slack with blogging around the #bumpingalong what with generally getting more pregnant and having things to do. So thought I'd post about the last couple of outfits I've put together as it's definitely tougher dressing the bump.

Week 30
For my birthday back in May my gals got me tickets to London Fashion Weekend and it was just as fashionably wonderful as I thought it would be.

The #LFWEND outfit consisted of a Bluebell Maternity dress from ASOS paired with black patent block heel ankle boots from New Look. Incredibly comfortable, albeit I hadn't worn heels in forever so it looked like I had club foot by the time I got home. Slave to fashion and all that *only wears soft clothes now, mind*

Week 31

This week's #bumpingalong photo was taken after watching McFly (teenage self swooooons) and being outOUT at 8 months pregnant really was something else. Massive shoutout to the O2 Forum at Kentish Town though for giving my friend and I wristbands so we could go in the special access area to be more comfortable - didn't even ask! Excellent service and made for a much more enjoyable concert. Thank you, thank you.

But onto the outfit... my go-to maternity jeans from Topshop, plain black maternity vest from New Look and then my spontaneous purchase from London Fashion Weekend; a black sheer maxi dress from Never Fully Dressed.

Best of the Rest
A sports luxe look for a weekend stroll - maternity polo neck and maternity croc-effect wet look leggings both from ASOS worn with a slinky bomber jacket from Primark.

(Excuse the set up, I'd try to fit in a cardboard box. No particular reason why.) Outfit is made up of Primark non-maternity culottes from last Summer paired with the other maternity polo neck from ASOS. Disclaimer in that the culottes had really risen up - they usually fall just below the knee, but gravity.

Here's me trying, and failing, to see whether I can push the boundaries of non-maternity clothes in certain styles. It seems not, as this was a dress that just would not zip up. But a beautiful dress nonetheless from Topshop for the non-preg amongst us.

More success with actual maternity wear at Topshop with this ace shirt.

And finally here's me welcoming in all things Autumn in a large non-maternity mustard jumper from H&M with - you've guessed it - my maternity jeans from Topshop.

Still after the illusive preg unitard I spoke of when newly pregnant. But as the colder seasons draw in, I am more than ready to be in soft and comfortable clothing. Especially with all this extra downward pressure in my vagine.

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Pack 'Em Up

31 weeks and all antenatal classes complete! Labour, c-sections, recovery, breastfeeding, bathing, generally looking after a small human...we are informed.

Informed, yes. Totally ready? Not quite. But sure.

The antenatal classes have been really helpful though in taking all the bits we've read over the last 8 months and preparing us to put it all into practice.

And so onto this week, which is the week of the 'hospital bag'. Packing the hospital bags though make everything seem that bit more real. Throughout my pregnancy there have been moments when it's like OH. WE ARE ACTUALLY HAVING A BABY, but then you just carry on being pregnant and stuff. Like when we decided nursery colours, when we built the furniture, when the nursery was complete. When browsing online for buggies and car seats and slings and learning what a travel system is. Let alone hitting the physical preg milestones that take you aback as there's a real life human growing inside.

Looking online it seems that you need to take everything you've ever owned with you to the hospital. There are a few bits that are irrelevant as we're having a caesarean, but generally there is a fair bit of packing to do! It also advises that it's split so that mama has a bag, and then a bag for dad and baby in case I'm whisked away somewhere.

Pinterest browsing (again) for all the bits and bobs

The baby's movements have gone from me feeling ripples to acknowledging that yes, that is definitely a foot, or a tiny back and little bottom. Blows my mind! After all, it's under 50 days to go now.

The parents-to-be (and a celebratory ale)

Had my penultimate midwife appointment yesterday and it's always a relief hearing baby's heart beating away nice and strong - and it got me thinking about how far into pregnancy we are and how I still have no clue as to whether I'm carrying a girl or boy. Will I ever get a sense of what my baby is? Am I out of touch to have no idea? All other preg women I've spoken to have had an inkling of what they're carrying; which has either been proved correct when they've given birth, or they've found out at their 20wk scan and they're bang on. The hormones in pregnancy are a funny thing because you have these irrational moments where you let your mind wander and then suddenly you're just a big ol' pregnant weepy lump, sitting on your sofa talking away to your small human saying sorry you don't know what they are.

Well at least I know I'm definitely carrying a baby. Despite my dream the other night about giving birth to a kitten.

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