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.

Baby Bump Behaviour

Last weekend the baby started to wriggle about and rather excitingly, has continued to do so every day for a week now. This wasn't the first time I'd felt the little one. Over the last month or so there have been butterfly moments when I felt like I was suddenly excited for a few moments, but no specific movement I could put my finger on. Then one day at work about two weeks ago, I felt a faint push against my womb. There then followed two weeks of womb-silence. It's quite unnerving to have felt something and then for it to not happen again. I felt like I may have hallucinated or just wanted it to happen so much that I had somehow willed bambino into moving with the sheer power of my mind a la Uri Gellar. I knew from the books that this was completely normal. At this stage your womb is large and your baby is relatively small so there's plenty of scope for swimming without running into the sides. Normal however is also rather frustrating and can also lead to fretting. Plus I really wanted Husband to feel it too.


On Saturday we were laying on our Hillside bed (see previous post) having a little post cream tea rest when baby began their first major wriggle, followed by definate kicking / elbowing movements which rather fabulously we were able to feel together. It is an amazing sensation to feel their little twists and turns. Sometimes you are just aware of their general movement. Other times you can actually feel them turn over, often closely followed by a dig against the womb. The other exciting (and reassuring) sensation is that when baby comes close to the surface you can feel their heart beat.


When I sit still the baby becomes active - my movement in the day rocks them into a lulled state. Once I stop moving then the baby stirs and wakes up. If I am at my desk for too long then I can feel their stirrings. On Friday night we had out first alien moment. We were curled up watching No Distance Left To Run when the baby pushed it's head against my womb (maybe they are already a Blur fan?). We know it was it's head because it protruded from my belly, just like they were an extra in a Fringe episode. To date this has definately been my favourite pregnancy experience.

Babymooning on The Island

There were no lepar colonies. Sadly we didn't spot any polar bears. There were bearded men to be found in their dozens, but none wearing loin cloths or surrounded by FedEx boxes. Instead we discovered beautiful beaches, cream teas and if heaven were a hotel, we found Hillside. *sigh*

This weekend we went on our babymoon. We had hoped to go on a european mini-break but my silly pelvis put paid to that. Instead we went to the Isle of Wight (which Husband insisted on calling 'The Island' in a hushed tone). The last time I was there was the summer of 1990 with the whole Elwick Clan. We stayed in a luxory static caravan and had a fab time swimming in the sea and running round Black Gang Chine. If memory serves that was also the summer we were almost barred for life from our English Heritage membership after a certain PC Sister managed to set the alarms off in Osbourne House. Ok 'barred for life' might be a slight exaggeration. But she definately knocked a picture and at least one uniformed man came running to see what damage a 6 year old girl could cause to a picture. How she got into The Force with such a hooligan background is beyond us all.

Husband and I were looking for a quiet break, one which didn't involve defacing national treasures. Our aims were simple: find a beautiful hotel, eat some nice food, enjoy one glass of good wine (ok, this was mine) and hopefully be lucky with the weather. And rather marvellously we scored top marks on all counts. The sun shone, I was fully sated and our hotel was glorious. At this point you should stop reading if you don't want to hear me gush about the amazing hotel.....


Hillside is a stunning huge old house which nestles in Ventnor's hills with views over the sea. We were initially drawn to it by Trip Advisor who rate it The Island's number one hotel and it is easy to see why. It was completely revamped last year by the current owners who have successfully created an air of comfy modern sophistication in a picturesque period house adorned with striking artwork. They have provided for all creature comforts from the divine bed, complete with perfect pillows, duvets and linen, to the bang & olufsson television. There's a communal news room with tv and all the papers, there's a living room with comfy chairs, chess board and open fire for those colder nights. If that isn't enough, there's also a conservatory and beautiful grounds to sit in and soak up the views and sunshine. Not to mention a French chef who serves up delicious meals and makes his own sausages. But what really makes Hillside special are the owners - Anna and Gert are warm and generous in their hospitality, but not overpowering. I had a genuine tear in my eye when I left - I have never felt so welcome and at home in a hotel before.

To sum up: fellow babymooners I recommend heading straight to The Island, but most importantly stay at Hillside.

What To Blog and What Not To Blog

Some blogs are an individual's musings. Some are more like an information hub. Some are political soapboxes. Mine is supposed to chart my pregnancy, which to date I'm finding includes a whole range of emotional and physical feelings which perhaps not surprisingly, as a first time Marmee, I've never encountered before. Since I started my blog I've found myself in a bit of a dilemma - how honest should I be with you, Dear Reader?

My original motivation for blogging was to keep an honest account of my SPD. When I was first diagnosed I obviously knew a bit about the condition from family and colleagues. But I wanted to know and read more (that's the librarian in me conducting a lit review). I did some initial googling and came up with very little, except dry medical explanations and forums where women were clearly in pain, struggling to manage their fledgling families and a lot who were frustrated with the NHS as well as their unsympathetic spouses. I found these chatrooms quite depressing, especially those who were not being supported by their families and husbands. I then tried twitter to see if #SPD was a trend and if I might find some new resources there - unfortunately SPD also stands for Sozialdemokratische Partei Deutschlands (the German Social Democratic Party) so this too proved a little futile. So I set about blogging to try and fill a small void on tinterweb.

I doubt that many (ok, any) strangers have stumbled upon me yet. However, now I've written a few posts and found that I am enjoying this writing melarky, I'm going to get husband to help me with some SEO-type stuff (dead digitally minded me) so hopefully women in a similar situation will find my blog and take some small comfort that they are not alone in their pain and frustrations. I do hope I don't sound too earnest or crusadey, for that is not my intention. I guess what I'm teeing you up for is to expect some honest truths over the coming weeks and months. I'm not whinging or ranting, I'm documenting.

Bank Holiday Blog Washout

I had intended to do some bank holiday blogging, but I'm afraid to say Dear Reader, frankly I just wasn't in the mood.

I had a relatively quiet weekend punctuated by a hot water trauma (£140, some cleaning of pipes and a new washer later and thankfully all resolved now) and a flying visit from Best Friend who was over from the Emerald Isle. Clearly the latter was a good, nay marvellous, punctuation! Though wouldn't positively recommend SATC2.

There was also some fun and actual games to be had with Neice 1. She is a big fan of the nativity story (no seasonal preferences for her - Baby Jesus, Mummy Mary & Daddy Joseph are important 12 months of the year - well it is the greatest story ever told). I somehow found myself explaining Herod's census to her - as a 2.5 year old I'd say she grasped it pretty well (she can count to ten afterall). The main confusion seemed to lay between the role of King David and Uncle David, which for a girl with two dolls both called Bella I was a bit surprised at.

Names are very important to Neice 1: when I told her we are having a baby she inquired "are you having a Neice 2?" Given her thirst for knowledge and her elephantine memory (lying is never a good idea as she will catch you out) I gave her our then favourite boy and girl name. Now chatterbox Neice 1 likes to go over ground regularly so instilled and inextricably linked in her little head are three facts: the baby will be X or X and it will be born when she is three. Heaven help us if we change our minds!

Overall though I felt quite stiff, frustrated and a little down this weekend. I blame the pregnancy hormones as much as my inability to make my body do very much. My emotional balance has always been delicate. Indeed, the pill sent me doo-lally (there was a particularly dramatic episode when working the tills at WHSmiths one Christmas I looked up to discover the queue snaking right round the shop whereupon I burst into tears and fled from my station to the ladies loos) so it's hardly a surprise that my emotions are yo-yoing a bit when I am actually with child.

On a brighter note our cleaner is back from her holidays - yippee! So at least for one day a week home will be sparkly and I feel less guilty for doling out chores to poor husband. Now he can just be my chauffeur and chef!