Hands up: I have been a dreadful, nay silent, blogger these last few weeks. I'm not entirely sure why, given I am just completing my third week of maternity leave which has hardly been a strenuous period of my life. That said, when you are used to overseeing the running of your Blue Leader's life as well as the day to day managing of an office of eight it's an odd transition to solo living. To go from working 10-12 hour days in constant company with an endless to do list which is frequently overtaken by breaking news, it's rather odd to then just manage and indeed motivate yourself.
That said, I've done some excellent day time telly watching (Homes Under the Hammer a staple of my mid-morning diet) and telly yelling (quite cathartic to scream and shout at the Loose Women who are as daft and ill-informed as you would imagine them to be). That said, there's a limit to how satisfying this can be so flick between LW, WATO and Daily Politics for my own sanity.
I've also bought a good chunk of Brent Cross (not a whole lot left in their John Lewis, Mothercare or Boots) and managed to fit purchases into the Baby's room. I've had some lovely lunches and coffee and cake meet ups, played/practised with several live babies and toddlers. I've even cleaned out all our kitchen and both bedrooms cupboards and shelves, however I drew the line at the oven and 'delegated' to Husband.
In addition there have been multiple midwife, hospital and physio check-ups to interrupt my otherwise very important 'resting' time. I have been assessed for the birth centre at the Whittington which, fingers crossed if my platelet count improves, I can use. And I really want to: there are en suite facilities, a double bed so we can both stay over night if needs be and, most important to me, a birthing pool. Oh, and a flat screen telly (you can guess who was most impressed by this facility). I also had a birthing session with my physio which I will blog about separately as was very useful and deserves a stand alone posting.
My bloods now seem to be the only thing causing concern to the medics; my iron was low, but has now rallied by my taking the oh-so-delicious (ahem) Floradix as well as Pregaday iron tablets. Just these pesky platelets now, and really who needs their blood to clot when delivering a baby ... ?
And nope, still no sign of Baby G. My fear that all Ministerial Group babies come early has so far proven unfounded, although there are another 10 days til D-Day. And trust me, with the amount of packing and planning required for hospital this giving birth melarky has turned into a full blown military operation.
Friday, 24 September 2010
Thursday, 19 August 2010
NCT Take 2
Well we were neither ostracised nor lynched by the group, which I took to be a good sign. Perhaps last weeks misdemeanours are, if not forgiven, forgotten.
Last night we learned at which point in the labour process it's appropriate to call an ambulance and when you should just press speed dial 1 to get your midwife (an important distinction as if you aren't established they'll send you home again!). We also discussed what you should pack in your hospital bag - this should include a picnic for your birthing partner/s. I remember calling home when Little Sis went into labour with Niece 1 to see how she was, to learn that Marmee was baking a cake "for Jonathan - he'll get hungry". The answer to most Elwick scenarios (good, bad or other) is tea and cake - Marmee, think my husband is hoping for a victoria sponge or coffee cake!
We also did our first labour massage and breathing exercises. This was a tad odd; not something you really want to do in a church hall with 15 other people. Luckily there's a dimmer switch so the dusky light meant it wasn't quite as awkward as it could have been. Mine & hubbalina's breathing has never been entirely synchronised; he's quick and shallow (smoker, tsk tsk), mine is slow and deep. Still, this fact now firmly established (marriage is a constant learning curve) we will add breathing practice and back massage to our nightly to do list which already includes the quite hilarious perineum massage. The first time we tried it I laughed so hard I cried. With the SPD it's not easy, nor entirely comfortable, spreading your legs, but if it reduces the chances only a teensy bit of cutting or tearing then I, for one, am all for it.
Last night we learned at which point in the labour process it's appropriate to call an ambulance and when you should just press speed dial 1 to get your midwife (an important distinction as if you aren't established they'll send you home again!). We also discussed what you should pack in your hospital bag - this should include a picnic for your birthing partner/s. I remember calling home when Little Sis went into labour with Niece 1 to see how she was, to learn that Marmee was baking a cake "for Jonathan - he'll get hungry". The answer to most Elwick scenarios (good, bad or other) is tea and cake - Marmee, think my husband is hoping for a victoria sponge or coffee cake!
We also did our first labour massage and breathing exercises. This was a tad odd; not something you really want to do in a church hall with 15 other people. Luckily there's a dimmer switch so the dusky light meant it wasn't quite as awkward as it could have been. Mine & hubbalina's breathing has never been entirely synchronised; he's quick and shallow (smoker, tsk tsk), mine is slow and deep. Still, this fact now firmly established (marriage is a constant learning curve) we will add breathing practice and back massage to our nightly to do list which already includes the quite hilarious perineum massage. The first time we tried it I laughed so hard I cried. With the SPD it's not easy, nor entirely comfortable, spreading your legs, but if it reduces the chances only a teensy bit of cutting or tearing then I, for one, am all for it.
Tuesday, 17 August 2010
NCT Class Number 1
As I mentioned in my previous post, last week was our first NCT class. Even though we still haven't managed to move, we decided to take the classes in the Berko area in the vain hope we might be Hertfordshire residents by the time we have a toddler.
We faced the prospect of our first meeting with some sense of trepidation. We'd heard extreme stories from friends and colleagues; from those who nicknamed it the nazi child birth trust, to those who promised we'd make friends for life. Truthfully I was just hoping the other couples would be relatively normal with a reasonable sense of humour. And, from first impressions, this is what we have got, though what others think of us Griffiths ... I'm unsure.
There is an inherent weirdness to the classes in that you are defined entirely by your bump. I cannot tell you the vocations or any other such 'normal' info that you would usually elicit from such a gathering. Much like any course the first ice breaker exercise was telling the group something about yourselves, which also involved A4 paper and marker pens. You had to give your names (pretty easy) and say when your baby is due (again, straightforward) and then provide two 'interesting' facts about your baby...This was actually quite difficult - what can you say about your unborn baby who is currently cocooned away from you for 9 months? We were at the furthest edge of the circle so had to wait our turn patiently whilst we learned the sexes of many of the other bumps, as well as those that had short legs, long legs and seemingly inadequate torsos. Clearly the Archway scanners are inferior to the Herts ones as we had no such info to impart. Plus we don't know the sex of bump yet. So we (I) opted for comedy factoids: 1) baby g has alien tendencies (see previous post) and 2) it will be an Evertonian. Fact 2 was met with stunned silence, followed by question from Course Leader as to whether or not we'd already bought bump a kit. Categorically not. Hmmm. As husband psstd in my ear 'told you not to go with that one'.
I'm also a tad concerned that I might have come across as a bit dismissive of one of the other lady's situations and thereby cast myself as the outspoken member of the group. Situation 1: there is a breech bump in the group. We were discussing ways you can help baby move into the right position. I found myself saying that I'd always slept on my left and my baby is on my left (i.e. where ideally it should be) which I fear came across as smug to the struggling lady who looked like this is greatly concerning her. Situation 2: to try and atone for Situation 1 in a wider discussion about breech births I added to the chatter that my mum had given birth to a breech baby naturally. And that she was the first of a pair of twins. And that they were over 8lbs. Each. This was meant to be reassuring. But again, I think I came off as mostly smug. Oh dear.
So tomorrow night will try to bite my tongue in vain hope of recovering from last week's performance and the ladies can see I'm not a bitch, rather someone with, seemingly, poor social graces, but a good heart. Well, you can but hope.
We faced the prospect of our first meeting with some sense of trepidation. We'd heard extreme stories from friends and colleagues; from those who nicknamed it the nazi child birth trust, to those who promised we'd make friends for life. Truthfully I was just hoping the other couples would be relatively normal with a reasonable sense of humour. And, from first impressions, this is what we have got, though what others think of us Griffiths ... I'm unsure.
There is an inherent weirdness to the classes in that you are defined entirely by your bump. I cannot tell you the vocations or any other such 'normal' info that you would usually elicit from such a gathering. Much like any course the first ice breaker exercise was telling the group something about yourselves, which also involved A4 paper and marker pens. You had to give your names (pretty easy) and say when your baby is due (again, straightforward) and then provide two 'interesting' facts about your baby...This was actually quite difficult - what can you say about your unborn baby who is currently cocooned away from you for 9 months? We were at the furthest edge of the circle so had to wait our turn patiently whilst we learned the sexes of many of the other bumps, as well as those that had short legs, long legs and seemingly inadequate torsos. Clearly the Archway scanners are inferior to the Herts ones as we had no such info to impart. Plus we don't know the sex of bump yet. So we (I) opted for comedy factoids: 1) baby g has alien tendencies (see previous post) and 2) it will be an Evertonian. Fact 2 was met with stunned silence, followed by question from Course Leader as to whether or not we'd already bought bump a kit. Categorically not. Hmmm. As husband psstd in my ear 'told you not to go with that one'.
I'm also a tad concerned that I might have come across as a bit dismissive of one of the other lady's situations and thereby cast myself as the outspoken member of the group. Situation 1: there is a breech bump in the group. We were discussing ways you can help baby move into the right position. I found myself saying that I'd always slept on my left and my baby is on my left (i.e. where ideally it should be) which I fear came across as smug to the struggling lady who looked like this is greatly concerning her. Situation 2: to try and atone for Situation 1 in a wider discussion about breech births I added to the chatter that my mum had given birth to a breech baby naturally. And that she was the first of a pair of twins. And that they were over 8lbs. Each. This was meant to be reassuring. But again, I think I came off as mostly smug. Oh dear.
So tomorrow night will try to bite my tongue in vain hope of recovering from last week's performance and the ladies can see I'm not a bitch, rather someone with, seemingly, poor social graces, but a good heart. Well, you can but hope.
Thursday, 12 August 2010
Physio Advice
Yesterday was a busy day in my body & baby management stakes - I started the day with physio and ended it with our first NCT class (more of which next posting - I know, I'm such a tease).
Physio was another good session, starting with the now customary realignment of my pelvis. To reassure the squeamish amongst you it's not a painful process - I don't want you imagining me on a rack being stretched ala count duckula or maid marion (never been one for scary gothic/medieval dramas so my tv references are stuck firmly in the Broom Cupboard). Rather I lay on my side pushing against my physio with my thigh, which she then counterbalances by squeezing my hip joint and pelvis together 20 times (anatomy another weak point so this may not be accurate, but it's the best description you'll get from me I'm afraid). We repeat this three times, recheck my pelvis and if necessary repeat the whole process again.
My left side is my problem area so my physio has recommended trying to ensure my posture is symmetrical as possible, which it turns out is harder than you think, now I am consciously trying to be straight as a post I realise that I do subconsciously lean slightly to the left. She also suggested I try lying on my right hand side in bed. This is going to be much harder as I habitually am a bed lefty - it also involves changing sides with my husband after 12 and a half years so I can still tumble out to go to the loo, reach my rennies and glass of water without needing to turn over in the middle of the night. I realise there may be a slight irony here as hubby is a left handed whereas I am right handed, we will just have to see where this crazy experiment takes us and how profound an effect it has on our marriage.
Physio was another good session, starting with the now customary realignment of my pelvis. To reassure the squeamish amongst you it's not a painful process - I don't want you imagining me on a rack being stretched ala count duckula or maid marion (never been one for scary gothic/medieval dramas so my tv references are stuck firmly in the Broom Cupboard). Rather I lay on my side pushing against my physio with my thigh, which she then counterbalances by squeezing my hip joint and pelvis together 20 times (anatomy another weak point so this may not be accurate, but it's the best description you'll get from me I'm afraid). We repeat this three times, recheck my pelvis and if necessary repeat the whole process again.
My left side is my problem area so my physio has recommended trying to ensure my posture is symmetrical as possible, which it turns out is harder than you think, now I am consciously trying to be straight as a post I realise that I do subconsciously lean slightly to the left. She also suggested I try lying on my right hand side in bed. This is going to be much harder as I habitually am a bed lefty - it also involves changing sides with my husband after 12 and a half years so I can still tumble out to go to the loo, reach my rennies and glass of water without needing to turn over in the middle of the night. I realise there may be a slight irony here as hubby is a left handed whereas I am right handed, we will just have to see where this crazy experiment takes us and how profound an effect it has on our marriage.
Thursday, 5 August 2010
Guest Blogger
Today I'm a guest blogger for Tea Devotee. Crazy Lady trusted me to talk to her readers ... http://teadevotee.com/2010/08/05/guest-post-introducing-the-london-literary-ladies/
Wednesday, 28 July 2010
The Ten SPD Commandments (according to me)
So dear reader, it has been quite some time since I have written to you. It's been an emotional six weeks or so and, whilst like the coalition government I have promised to be open and honest with you, the appetite for hormonal ranting and self-pitying whinging is probably limited. To make up for lost time, here are ten things I have learned since I last posted:
1. The best bathrooms at work to sob your hormonal, irrational heart out in are the ministerial ones - they have the advantage of being private and also of having a mirror so you can a) check your tear stained makeup and b) give yourself a stern talking to
2. It is normal to worry (including whipping yourself into a paranoid frenzy) about whether or not you will love your baby
3. Those with SPD should heed their physio's advice - rest more and do the exercises
4. Moving house is an unnecessary distraction whilst pregnant
5. Be wary of batty old ladies who approach you in the street with the opening line "so you have a bun in the oven". They will pat your bump without invitation
6. It is fine to say no to everything and everyone
7. Where possible, delegate (both at home and at work)
8. Buy a large swing seat for your garden - those with SPD cannot sit on the grass comfortably. Oh, and when you go SS shopping take your husband with you to protect your modesty as you must lie down in public to test it properly
9. Londoners - always wear your TFL Baby on Board badge, especially when your bump is not necessarily obvious to others (they may just think you've eaten one too many cakes) - without it you may struggle to get a seat
10. Have a bath everynight - I've found its the only time when I feel unrestricted in my movement.
I promise it won't be another six weeks before I post again.
1. The best bathrooms at work to sob your hormonal, irrational heart out in are the ministerial ones - they have the advantage of being private and also of having a mirror so you can a) check your tear stained makeup and b) give yourself a stern talking to
2. It is normal to worry (including whipping yourself into a paranoid frenzy) about whether or not you will love your baby
3. Those with SPD should heed their physio's advice - rest more and do the exercises
4. Moving house is an unnecessary distraction whilst pregnant
5. Be wary of batty old ladies who approach you in the street with the opening line "so you have a bun in the oven". They will pat your bump without invitation
6. It is fine to say no to everything and everyone
7. Where possible, delegate (both at home and at work)
8. Buy a large swing seat for your garden - those with SPD cannot sit on the grass comfortably. Oh, and when you go SS shopping take your husband with you to protect your modesty as you must lie down in public to test it properly
9. Londoners - always wear your TFL Baby on Board badge, especially when your bump is not necessarily obvious to others (they may just think you've eaten one too many cakes) - without it you may struggle to get a seat
10. Have a bath everynight - I've found its the only time when I feel unrestricted in my movement.
I promise it won't be another six weeks before I post again.
Wednesday, 16 June 2010
Sleeping Marmee-to-be & The Physio
Five weeks after the diagnosis I have had my first session with my physio. She was brilliant and I'm already looking forwards to seeing her again in two weeks. We established that my pelvis is correctly aligned (hooray) and that I have 'just' become too loose in my pelvic region. After going through my medical and pregnancy history, she spent the rest of the session teaching me some techniques to help me manage the pain. Mostly this consists of tightening my pelvic floor (simply turn your belly button two notches to the right ladies) before I try manouevering myself anywhere e.g. in and out of the car and bath, using stairs etc
But perhaps most importantly, I now know the correct way to get in and out of, as well as turn over, in bed. The latter has become increasingly difficult in the last couple of weeks. I've gone from being a roaming, yet exceedingly contented sleeper who (apparently) has a fondness for staking a claim to the centre of the bed pushing a certain husband to the far perimeter, to a stationary one. When my unconscious instinct to move takes hold I find myself shouting out and waking (both of us) up as the pain of moving has shaken me from my slumber. Alternatively, I awake in the middle of the night with a dead arm because I've fallen asleep on it. Not only are these factors intermittently painful, they are irritating: I have always been an excellent sleeper. Bed is my favourite place. In it I feel like a princess, reigning over my domain of pillows, duvet and linen. So whilst the books try to reassure me that increasing broken sleep is good practice for when the baby comes, I was nevertheless confident in my ability to overcome the unborn one's affect on my slumber. I suppose there's always the afternoon power nap to supplement my nightly zzzzzs. Perhaps the Blue Leader will lend me a sofa.
But perhaps most importantly, I now know the correct way to get in and out of, as well as turn over, in bed. The latter has become increasingly difficult in the last couple of weeks. I've gone from being a roaming, yet exceedingly contented sleeper who (apparently) has a fondness for staking a claim to the centre of the bed pushing a certain husband to the far perimeter, to a stationary one. When my unconscious instinct to move takes hold I find myself shouting out and waking (both of us) up as the pain of moving has shaken me from my slumber. Alternatively, I awake in the middle of the night with a dead arm because I've fallen asleep on it. Not only are these factors intermittently painful, they are irritating: I have always been an excellent sleeper. Bed is my favourite place. In it I feel like a princess, reigning over my domain of pillows, duvet and linen. So whilst the books try to reassure me that increasing broken sleep is good practice for when the baby comes, I was nevertheless confident in my ability to overcome the unborn one's affect on my slumber. I suppose there's always the afternoon power nap to supplement my nightly zzzzzs. Perhaps the Blue Leader will lend me a sofa.
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