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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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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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Thirties

We are 30 weeks pregnant. THIRTY. That only leaves 8 weeks until we're booked in. Whatever happens in the coming weeks we will definitely have a baby in 59 days.

Had a bit of a tricky weekend and subsequent morning today, mind. Heartburn still causing me grief - so much so I vomited on myself in the shower from burping. Nice. My Braxton Hicks are certainly getting stronger and making it much harder to stand up straight when they're present. All part and parcel of entering the 8 months preg club I guess!

However what I wasn't expecting this early was to lose a little bit of my plug.

There's no way to discuss it without being gross, so if preg detailed talk is too much, scroll down to the safe zone my friend...

Naturally, reading up on your mucus plug isn't the most pleasant of topics but something that needed to be done when you see what can only be described as a blob of clearish snot where it shouldn't be. A quick phone call with my midwives confirmed that as there was no pink in colour or blood, labour isn't imminent (can be anything from a few hours or few weeks if the full plug, or 'show', has happened). But that it does sound like some has come out and to keep an eye on things down there, rest up, etc.

Now I'm contending with pressure in my nethers, knowing baby is head down and that I'm without some of my plug. Please don't try and leave just yet oh miniature one! I haven't even packed your hospital bag!

*SAFE ZONE*

Needless to say there will be a delayed #bumpingalong picture as I am not wearing anything that's publicly acceptable; pants, t-shirt. A for-my-eyes-only vibe. I did manage to shave my legs all on my own though - except now they look like sausage meat.

So quick catch up on our first antenatal class last week for you: it was all about Intervention & Caesareans, the latter being the main bit for us. Hearing about being induced and seeing some of the tools used made my tummy go all funny. Yet strangely, talking frankly about the proceedings in a c-section didn't really phase me. I guess it's because I've had 14 ops with my Crohn's so a surgical set up is almost more favourable for me than a natural one!? Surgical is my natural set up.

Tonight's class is all about boobies. Well, officially Feeding Baby. But breastfeeding and bottle feeding, I believe. I've tried to get a bit of a head start and started reading 'Breastfeeding Made Easy' by Geraldine Miskin as I'd love to be able to breastfeed my human that I'm growing. I am aware however that it's not something all mums are able to do, whether by choice or otherwise, so I don't want to put pressure on myself if it turns out that my boobies can't do the feeding.

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Getting Low

This baby is down, but certainly not out - yet.

And I obviously am referring to baby's position in my uterus, rather than their emotional state.

Saw the midwife on Wednesday and I explained exactly how I was feeling with regards to the pressurised nethers. We had a listen of baby and their little heart was pumping away nice and regular; always a relieving feeling. But my bab also took the midwife by surprise with the force in which they kicked...we have a strong one inside! My midwife said how typically you get the ripples and what not at this stage, but always good to see such strong movement from the baby. Well done to our human.

She then did the usual process of feeling where baby is positioned and straight away said that she could understand why I am so uncomfortable. It appears that baby is definitely head down and very low - usually found around the mid-thirty weeks [that matched up to all the bits I read online in forums, etc.] However for me not to worry as baby can stay there for a good while and they've not yet twisted around to be engaged. Naturally though, I would quite like the miniature one to stay in there as long as possible please! But the other half and I also understand that baby is going to come, when baby is going to come and there's not much we can do about it! In the meantime we've been told to keep a closer eye on my Braxton Hicks as they've been causing me quite a bit of pain and discomfort - but irregularly, which is the way we want it to stay for now. If in doubt then we call the midwives and talk through what's going on and take it from there...

For baby's arrival, the man and I have been doing a countdown to week 38 as that's when we're booked in for our c-section, but there were suggestions of working back from week 37 instead as medically this is when they consider a baby full term; anywhere between 37 and 42 weeks is good. So say for instance our little one makes an early appearance at 34 weeks, technically they're only going to be 3 weeks early (from what's considered a full term baby) as opposed to 6 weeks early (with the 40 week total). Does that make sense? I believe baby just gets extra layers of fat after 37 weeks that aren't essential to life - they're all readymade by then.

In other news, H&M aren't helping the situation when it comes to tiny clothes. So it appears I accidentally bought some more for our tiny person.

BUT WILL YOU JUST LOOK AT THE HAT.

Had my rhesus injection this afternoon which was just a big ball of crap feeling in my arm. Will only have to have this again if baby is of a positive blood type and our bloods cross at birth. To be honest, a crappy injection will be the least of my concerns when I'm there all c-sectioned! (Is c-sectioned a verb? Strong phrase all the same). Such a predicament though with my Anti-D injection; I'm right handed but I also sleep on my left. What arm to sacrifice for the day?! I opted to give up my right arm as I have every intention of getting horizontal to nap asap. Complete preparation for our first weekend of nothing.

No official plans and I can't ruddy wait. Ahh to just lay down in soft clothes with my bump guardian...bliss.

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Final Chapter?

There seems to be much confusion among pregnancy apps, books and online with regards to when the third trimester officially begins - with it ranging from 26-29 weeks. Generally speaking though, it seems week 27 is the start of the last pregnancy chapter.

So that's it. Third and final trimester has begun. I am 27+1 now. Here is a list of things that I need to sort out before the small one comes:

• Complete nursery prep
• Go on maternity leave
• Hospital bag
• Get leaky titties
• Not be able to bend forward/shave legs, etc.
• Nest
• Eat everything
• Find clothes that fit me when in the grips of hibernation
• Have a baby
• Cry because everything is overwhelming

Obviously the above list is not necessarily reflective of the next 11 weeks and also activities will not necessarily be completed in that order. But knowing that we're in the third trimester brings an element of fear in that we're officially on countdown now. Like it's happening. Shit needs to get done because we are having a baby.

Didn't do my #bumpingalong photo yesterday as quite frankly, it was Bank Holiday Monday and we were building the nursery wardrobe which (finally) arrived. So you lucky ones get to look at my clothes from today; grey t-shirt from New Look in a size 12. 'Tis actually a peplum cut so although non-maternity, allows fanning of the bump. Dress is from asos in a size 10 and again, non-maternity but was one of the first items I bought when I knew I was preg but was in the secret part of pregnancy. No one can question a growing bump when it's invisible in a boyfriend fit dress! Although the boyfriend fit is looking pretty tight nowadays...

But the most exciting thing that happened yesterday is that I FINALLY got to capture the wriggler on camera! So amazing. So alien. Just utterly incredible and I love the little one (video down the right hand side on the desktop view of la blog)

I also still find it incredibly odd that I have no idea what I'm carrying - other than that they're a baby. There I am, chatting away to this genderless person I've made with no idea if they're a little boy or a little girl. It doesn't matter to me either way, I just find it a funny situation. Should I have strong feelings about what sex they are? Or are there mums out there who also had no clue what they were carrying?

Boy or girl, our little tinker's bump adventure continues...Here's to the third trimester, guys.

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Busy Bump

Considering it's only Tuesday I feel like this has been an incredibly busy week already! I think it must be because we're going on holiday on THURSDAY. Don't suppose I mentioned it at all?! BabyMoon time with bump and the other half?! I am sooooo excited. To relax and do nothing and that's fine because it's what you do on Summer holidays. My pale green skin is ready for some Vitamin D fo sho.

#bumpingalong this week at Week 23 (when did we suddenly get here?!) and as I said on the Instagram post, my look was very much suited to if I lived in a lamp; a metallic pyjama come genie medley. But it was comfortable so...T-shirt was a size 12 from River Island and the golden pantaloons are a size 14 from Topshop. Both non-maternity.

The disproportionate pinhead looking thing I've become

Saw the Crohn's antenatal team yesterday and we got to hear our bab's heartbeat, thumping away! Despite the odd kick at the doppler - it seems I'm carrying quite the hyperactive little tinker! But at least we know that all things check out as they should be for this stage in the pregnancy.

Keeping myself amused

They were also super pleased with how stable my Crohn's has been, so much so that they're happy for me to get in touch with them if anything flares up - but in the meantime they'll pass me back to the normal midwives from now on. Good news team!!

Also had my whooping cough injection this morning; entering the time frame now where each week in pregnancy pretty much equals some kind of injection or appointment. So got that today, then midwives again next week. Few more weeks and then it's the one for having a negative blood type. It's all go I tell you!

Took some time out over the weekend to start decorating our nursery... It's all so lovely it makes me want to do a happy tear - and we've only painted a ceiling white! We picked up the crib for our bedroom too, making it suddenly seem very very real. In around 15 weeks or so, the little wooden crib is going to have an even smaller human in there. That's ours. That we made. (The baby, not the crib. The crib was collected readily built)

DIY is code for dungarees

In case you didn't know, new little humans need a shit load of stuff for when they get here. We decided the best way to plan for this was to take a trip to our local pub and start on Babmin (Baby Admin). Eating a roast whilst discussing what adapter for the travel system we really needed, and swigging an OJ whilst working out how soon we need to invest in a breast pump. Glorious.

Local pubs: Making chores nicer since I said so

With regards to our upcoming BabyMoon though - I'm contemplating doing a lookbook for it? I'll be packing this evening and I think it would be a cool thing to do, to keep track of how I dress my bump whilst menopausally sweating in the Spanish heat. I sense a sartorial challenge ahead.

X

Hidden Kicks

22 weeks today and as we're all aware, Mondays are never the best days of the week anyway. And today was certainly no different as I sat in my GP waiting to see the doctor after a lack of sleep for worrying about our baby.

As I mentioned a few weeks back, I've been feeling baby movement for a good while now - established timings and a pattern to keep an eye on. Even being able to see the moving through my clothes. But over the last few days, the movements seemed less often and when they did happen in the usual time slot, they just seemed so faint. I've been beside myself with worry the last day or two and it culminated in me being awake last night willing our baby to do a big movement so I knew all was fine.

You just feel useless. And then you worry that your body isn't working properly and that your baby isn't going to be all right. So when you pass a time frame where usually things would happen and there's nothing...it just made me so anxious. Especially as a first-time mum-to-be as I have absolutely zero experiences to base this all on, so naturally you look for reassurance where you can.

My doctor felt my bump this morning and said it was the right size and felt as it should for my gestation. And the main thing for me was that I also got to hear our baby's heartbeat. I can't describe the relief of knowing that baby was doing ok and things were actually as it should be.

Turns out that looking back over my scan notes, my placenta is positioned anterior high which means it's at the front of my uterus, as opposed to the back; when the placenta is at the front it can sometimes cushion the movement of the baby. So it seems likely that our hyperactive mini human went on a wander and moved to a place where even though they're moving all the time still, they've softened the blow of kicking me hard. They just put us through the mill emotionally instead of physically!

I spoke to my midwives this morning and they let me know that I'd done exactly the right thing in following it up with a medical professional. At the risk of sounding silly, I was all sorts of emotional, worrying and I just wanted to someone to tell me that I was being dramatic and it was fine - again searching for that reassurance.

My other half was so incredibly supportive with all this going on, too. Speaking as the pregnant one in our relationship, I've had to have moments to sit back and realise that he only knows how I'm feeling with baby based on what I share with him. He can't tell the difference in feeling of a flutter and more substantial kick. Let alone if those patterns of feeling have changed? So for him to be able to keep me as calm as possible when really he has no idea either, just makes me appreciate him even more.

What an anecdote to share when they're older: "Ahh, do you remember that time you played hide and seek with my placenta? You rascal, you."

But yes, at least now we know that our little one is actually doing wonderfully. They just made their mummy and daddy temporarily shit themselves.

X

PS: Kicks Count do a band you can use to keep track of periods of movement. Super helpful in these situations, especially if the baby brain has kicked in. And their website is full of such useful info as well.

My Kicks Count wristband on arrival

Wiggle Wiggle

So I said a little while back that we, as in me, had felt the first movements of my baby in my tum. Now I'm over 18 weeks the movements are getting much more noticeable and those small flutters have become the swooshing and rolling you read about.

I'm in complete and utter awe of the human body. And to also give credit to mine, as it (so far) has seemed to do what it's supposed to for a pregnant body. Normally it dances to the beat of its own drum for Crohn's and I've had to just cope with whatever it did.

Saying that though, the last few days I've been feeling a tad ropey and decided to stay at home and rest whilst trying to determine if I'm wiped out from baby or Crohn's. Fortunately I'm back at the hospital again on Monday with the IBD doctor for pregnant ladies so I'll be sure to express my concerns/symptoms with her. For the time being I am going to try and have a Modulen each day as I'm currently struggling with all the poos again; I'm worried I won't put enough weight on for the bab. Fingers crossed I'm just run down like any normal mum-to-be and it's not going to be a case of putting me back on steroids because I'm flaring. We shall see!

Anyway...I've had many a sound and feelings happen in my stomach from Crohn's which to a non-IBDer would probably be a WTF moment. But the baby moving!? That's insane. Especially now it's more often and clearer. I had my first experience of skin movement over the weekend and it was the most bizarre thing! Watching the skin on my bump wobble a bit on its own?!? Only for a second, mind. And then it happened again later on in the evening. I tried to get the other half to see but alas not yet. There was a lot of aimless staring by the both of us, waiting, just waiting for something to happen. But another few days or so and I think it'll be a lot easier for him to see his baby moving around. Plus it's only a couple of weeks until we see our baby on screen again. Such love.

I'm really enjoying pregnancy though; that surprises me slightly because as much as I wanted to enjoy it, I was worried I'd spend the whole time feeling poorly and/or struggling to embrace the changes to my body. But I've been fortunate to have a relatively normal pregnancy thus far and I'm the closest to remission with my Crohn's that I've ever been (despite the odd hiccup). Who would have thought making a human would fix me?! Albeit - potentially - temporarily.

I am going to continue putting my stretch mark oil on my bump every night, watch the silvery teenage lines on my hips and thighs get that bit bigger and watch as my body carries on changing to make sure the tiny person has everything it needs to grow into a healthy baby. And anyway...

Same applies to all things baby bump and boobies.

X

WE HAVE MOVEMENT!

I'm 15 weeks and experienced the first fluttering of baby movement this weekend.

OH. MY. A movement independent of me, but in me. Mind blown once more.

It was a strange experience as the first time I felt it I thought it was probably wind (because, that happens when you're pregnant you know. All the flatulence. So glamorous)

Thought I won't make a fuss, keep calm because it might not be baby. But when it happened again the following day I was like yes...this is my baby moving and I can feel it. The joy it gave me knowing that things seem to be ok if the baby is wiggling around!? But how to explain what it felt like?

The best way I can describe it is like a flutter - a small popping against the skin - a bubble.

I believe I'm heading into the time frame where these little flutterings will become more frequent and in the coming weeks it'll be a definite that's my baby moving.

For now though I'm happy with my little internal bubbles because it means that I know that my baby is having a little dance. And that's simply magical.

X

Journey to Bump

The road to pregnancy was an odd one for me. Not that there's a normal route to being preggers, mind. But before you read on, I don't want you thinking that this post is about the birds and the bees. It's more...the birds, the bees and the bowels? Bowels being the key part.

Having Crohn's and knowing that at some point in my life I wanted to have a baby, was a combination that I'd worried about since I was first diagnosed; I was advised to look at freezing my eggs (as fertility in Crohn's patients wasn't the best). The thing is, the thought of actually having children was so far away in my mind at the time, that it was strange to potentially make that decision at the end of my teen years. Who knew how I'd feel in five, ten years time?

I decided not to freeze my eggs. I felt that if having a family naturally was something that I was supposed to do, then it would happen. If not, then so be it. I'm a strong believer in a family being a family regardless of its set up and how you all got there.

When I got to an age and stage in my relationship where talking about having a baby was a real thing, I had so many questions for my consultants...Can I have children? If I am fortunate enough to have children, are they going to get my Crohn's? How would Crohn's effect my pregnancy? Will I be able to have a natural labour due to all my previous operations?

In a nutshell...I'm pregnant. So it seems that in the first instance, yes I am able to have children (well at least conceive). Whether this baby that I'm currently growing gets my Crohn's? That I don't yet know. Crohn's & Colitis UK's info on Pregnancy and IBD says that "5 out of 100 children born to couples where one parent has Crohn's might be expected to develop IBD. Even with genetic predisposition, other additional factors are probably needed to trigger IBD." We will just have to wait and see and hope that our baby is as healthy as can be.

With regards to Crohn's during my pregnancy - this has been a complete turn up for the books! It seems being with child is the best medicine! Who knew pregnancy would be so beneficial to my bowel?! As it stands my Crohn's has calmed down immensely; for the first time in years all my levels are settled and I'm not worried if I sneeze, I'll poo. If anything, it's quite the opposite. It's like my body has forgotten how to go to the toilet-toilet and that's the oddest sensation for someone that has, on average, probably shat 10-15 times a day for the last 7 years. If TMI, sorry. But, you know...Crohn's.

Fiancé and I are in the midst of talking to the antenatal team about my staying on Azathioprine and whether we go back on Humira. As unlike Aza, they're not yet sure on the use of Humira in the third trimester (although if urgent/required then they'll let you. Pros and cons, etc.) But it looks like I may not need Humira after all if things stay the way they are!

Then that leads me to the last question in my little list of worries: labour. The grand finale to this whole musical that is pregnancy. Actually getting the miniature person out of me. Gosh.

I won't be allowed to do any pushing as - to quote my Crohn's surgeon - "my arse would fall out" and I for one am not ok with that and neither are they. We're all also keen to make sure that me and baby are safe, however that needs to be done. So elective cesarean it is. Scary thing is, is that our c-section date is already booked in! I now know categorically that I'll have babe in arms at 38 + 4.

Unless the little human makes an early arrival.

X

Fit to Burst

I've started writing a couple of posts over the last week or so. And then stopping. And then revisiting. And never finishing them. This was one of them for a good while.

It's because I've been BURSTING WITH NEWS that I couldn't talk about. Not just yet. I had so much running around in my head that I needed to write down all my thoughts...But now I can talk freely about the most exciting thing that's happened to me. That's happening to me. To us, as a couple.

The fiancé and I are expecting a mini person.

We are having a baby!

Even typing out that sentence is the most amazing thing. We've made a tiny person; a miniature human growing inside me and that is bloody incredible.

#BumpWatch begins as I can finally be loud and proud at work. BABY.

I'm aware that it is Biology 101, but the whole science of how a person is made and the things I've learnt even in these first 13 weeks blows my mind. It's fascinating. And it's just the start of the journey into parenthood for us both. It's also another reason why I wanted to start blogging again really! I'm keen to share my experiences with pregnancy, but also pregnancy with Crohn's.

For someone who can talk the hind legs off a donkey and hold a conversation with myself, not being able to talk openly about ALL THE EXCITING THINGS I'M FEELING AND THE CHANGES THAT ARE GOING ON has been torture. But we're in the safe zone now. We've got a few midwife appointments in the bag and we've had our first scan. It's real life people. It's happening.

We've shared the news now with all our family and friends and the response has been overwhelming in the most loveliest of ways. So much love. It really is astounding and makes you realise how many special people you have in your life and how lucky you are to have them.

I just feel like I'm floating with joy. Christ. Will you listen to me?! All hormonal and emotional and rambling about love. I'm such a happy mess right now.

I am pregnant.

And we are completely and utterly over the moon!

X

Still flaring?

And my level of frustration towards my Crohn's has skyrocketed this week!

I have the first of two hen doos on the weekend, followed by the second next weekend...then my holiday on 11th August...and then the two weddings at the end of the month. Not to mention my full time job.

I certainly do not need to be tired, vomiting, shitting out water and crying. Nope. Nahhh. No. Definitely not.

However, I do have my gastro consultant appointment on Thursday of this week. I'm not expecting anything amazing to come out of it, but just having them prod my stomach and realise how hard it's gone - in a weird way makes me feel better as it would confirm that I'm flaring.

I know it sounds ridiculous as I'm 5 years into my IBD journey - but sometimes I find it hard to determine if I'm officially in a flare up, or just really struggling with the day-to-day symptoms of Crohn's; the fatigue, the loose stools, etc.

I'm also curious as to what people think about Azathioprine? I have a very up and down relationship with it and I'm considering stopping it after I've spoken to my consultant about other options.

Either way, hopefully they'll be able to patch me up for the Summer!

X

New person?

Almost feeling back to normal. If normal was a thing.

All the symptoms that caused me to feel like a bag of broken marbles have disappeared... now it's just a case of powering through the remaining weeks of Pred! Also have the dietician on 14th and then catch up with my consultant in about a month to see how things are.

I'm not a fan of steroids as I feel it gives a false sense of security; it giveth with one hand and taketh away with the other *puts away rose tinted glasses* However, if it's patching bits up that don't make sense - even if it is only for a number of weeks - then that's a hell of a lot better than continually feeling AWFUL. And at least I'm back at work now!

And I've also joined a gym! I know. I am basically a new person. Went to Zumba Step on Wednesday...almost died. But if you pardon the pun, I am one step closer to have an ass like Shakira Shakiraaaaaa. Might as well try and turn the rapid weight gain into something that resembles a bootay instead of a Teletubby.

But yes, as I've been in this relatively normal state for a week or so now, it's let me plan and do some wonderful things! 'Twas the other half's birthday last week which meant we could have a countryside escape for the weekend. Visited a National Trust village called Lacock (oh matron) and relaxed in a converted cottage in Devizes. Simply scrumptious. Makes me want to go all Cath Kidston, put on my wellingtons, bake a pie and leave it on the window sill of my thatched cottage.

 

And now to this weekend where I will be exploring Winchester with some old girlfriends. Many giggles to be had with these two lovelies... 

And I can't bloody wait.

Catch up soon amigos!

X

Flat Out

Sometimes when the pain is really bad (like now) and I'm super bloated (like now)... I lie on my front to squash my stomach and hope the pain will go away.

FYI. It doesn't. Just makes me feel a bit sick.

X

Namaste

Starting yoga tonight.

Organised through my office - which is an added bonus, as it means I can't miss a class with it being straight after I've finished my working day. Plus it will firmly put exercise back on the map of my life.

Very excited as I'm so ready to get back into exercising properly again! More so now I know internally things are settling down/going in the right direction for once!

I'm also excited as yoga will not only help with the physical side of losing weight, toning up...but also the mental side.

And it seems perfectly timed as I have my first counselling sesh this Thursday.

Namaste indeed.

X

Human Jenga

I went to the GP on Monday.

One of the things she said to me really hit home, as I'd never thought about depression in that way, as there's not always a particular trigger for the dips...

I was in the middle of playing human Jenga. Hypothetically, with pieces being removed for various reasons I stayed standing - and although things seemed all right, I wasn't as balanced as I thought I was and it toppled.

So I've been referred back to CBT counselling - but this time she's requested individual as opposed to group, as the group one wasn't such a benefit for me. The people in my group were having issues with things they could change. But this was my problem. I was in there because I couldn't cope with things that I had no control over, couldn't change.

Now I wait for the counselling chaps to call me, quiz me on how I feel about everything and anything, and then wait for a letter with my level of depression. Ooh such fun.

Naturally I'm worried about how this is going to effect work and my relationships; all of them. Not just the need to leave to talk about my life to a stranger. But the days when I'm feeling low. The days when I don't even want to get out of bed, let alone leave the house.

All I can do now though is know that I'm doing everything I can to go back to 'normal'. Whatever that is.

X