This is the you I see daily. Dirty from playing outside with the dogs, usually over your t-shirt and face. Hair everywhere and curling over your face even though it had looked beautiful and neat moments before. A cheeky smile and full of love for mummy (even when you are discovering your boundaries in such unloving ways!). Your current passion is photography with your iPod chock-a-block full of photos of anything and everything. A personal specialty of yours is selfies and you are constantly begging your very unphotogenic mum to have a photo with you. Just this once I’ve included myself, after all next week it’ll be you and me all the time!
This weekend we had a reunion for mummy’s side of the family. Not everyone could make it, and you missed your cousin, but you had a ball. You met mummy’s cousins but became very confused with the whole second cousin concept. You also kept arguing they weren’t my cousins because most of them are a lot younger than me (14 to 1!). Everyone commented on how beautiful you are, how full of life, how cheeky and I can’t help but agree. I know that makes me sound like one of those mum’s but I am so proud of you and think you are gorgeous xoxo
There I was, standing in a deserted toy aisle at the local KMart, on the phone to hubby, having my own personal meltdown. Sobbing like my heart was breaking or a dear friend had died. Out of control, ashamed and hiding, distressed and past the point of holding on.
Why? What happened? I hear you ask.
Because I couldn’t print the photos that Niamh needed for Kinder and her daycare homework, and they were already late.
Because the Bluetooth on the self-serve machines did not work, the Facebook link up wouldn’t let me type, the cables were not for an iPhone 5 (although signage about the faults would have been nice and saved me 20 minutes).
Because it took 20 FUCKING MINUTES to walk from the closest car park to the entrance of the store in my granny shuffling way. Even with the oh-so-sexy tuby grip and belly brace on.
Because I was tired from the constant trips to the loo, the constant heartburn and inability to get comfortable in bed that has occurred every night for months.
Because a trip to the chemist and KMart took almost 2 hours instead of the pre-third trimester 20 minutes.
Because Niamh had had a sooky, wilful, “I won’t do it just because you asked me to” kind of morning before going off to Kinder and it took all of my willpower not to react and stay calm.
Because I was in agony and could hardly walk.
Because I feel useless and frustrated about how little I am physically able to do now.
Because I uttered the words “I’m over it” but then was horrified at how selfish that sounded and what the alternative is.
Because I am terrified these babies are going to come early and go to NICU, much earlier than I feared.
Because I got a huge scare on the weekend when I was rushed to hospital in unending pain that felt like everything on my left side was being torn to shreds or broken.
Because I realised how naive and overconfident I have been, maybe even cocky, and its been hard having to face that.
Because I have not organised everything I need for these bubbas yet and have been reminded I am not ready (see above as to why) even though I have organised some things.
Because I am pregnant with twins and the hormones raging at this point are at heavy-duty strength.
Because I have been told to rest but I feel guilty doing it, but then feel guilty if I don’t because I don’t want to risk the twins.
Because even though they don’t mean anything by it, wouldn’t even think for a second I would take it that way, would be mortified if they knew it upset me, people have made comments that have compounded the guilt I feel having to rest. And so I push myself and then feel guilty about not taking medical advice.
Because I find it near impossible to ask for help no matter how much I know I really do need it. And when it’s offered I feel guilty (don’t ask cause I’m really not 100% sure why, although I have my suspicions).
And probably a whole lot more that I’m not even aware of on a conscious level!
Now that I’ve got it out there I feel better, not fantastic but better, and all I can do is take on the lessons I have learnt this week and move on:
I need to respect my body, listen to it and do what I am told.
I need to put the needs of the twins first.
I need to ask for help.
I need to stop feeling guilty and realise that the reason for resting is the greatest one of all.
I need to give myself a break and stop thinking I need to be perfect. It’s ok to feel crap, and complain, and share, and then move on.
Have you ever just had enough after trying to keep it altogether and positive for too long? How did you deal and move on?
You have such a special relationship with your daddy and love going to see him play cricket Saturday afternoons. This was a special day though as it was a club only match “Ronnie’s Relics” – old vs new / current players. It was a day filled with family atmosphere, larrikins, kids joining in the fun, and lots of food. You’re favourite part was definitely when you got a chance to go out and help daddy umpire.
I love that you are an outdoors girl and enjoy being active. Mummy can’t wait to have the energy and ability to join in again!
OK so first off let’s just say that the title of this post was originally going to be something along the lines of The Beached Whale or The Bath From Hell, but I thought I might sound overly dramatic using those so the very
boring ahem plain The Bath will suffice.
I have been suffering from excruciating back and pelvis pain lately and had the bright idea to soak in a warm bath, best thing for it they say. Well I should have known when putting the plug in was a struggle that a bath was not necessarily the smartest idea.
The actual getting in was quite a struggle, my pelvis has been all stiff and locked up so the whole swinging my leg in just wasn’t happening. Eventually I worked out a system of gripping the bench top, leaning in the opposite direction and using my hand to lift in that first leg. I am sure if anyone had been watching this endeavour they would have left a sizeable puddle on the floor from the tears of mirth and lack of control over their bodily functions at the sight of my hugely pregnant body contorted in such an unwieldy manner all in the aid of a bath!
Once in however, things took a decided turn for the best. Even though there were many parts of me making islands in my paradise, the comfort and relaxation of being in a bath was overwhelmingly soothing. I briefly considered becoming a mermaid for the last leg of this pregnancy just for the pure bliss I was experiencing. I even managed to get my hands on the shell from the barbie mermaid
water feature bath toy and repeatedly filled the tiny container to pour over my swollen and cold belly. The twins seemed to love it too. Every time a trickle of water rolled over one of them they would wiggle and bump, creating a spectacular wave-like (or alienesque) show for my viewing pleasure.
There were only two downsides to the bath thus far.
1. The bath was warm. I don’t know about you but I love my baths to be turn-you-lobster red hot. I will actually empty some water out after
cooking relaxing to add pure hot water (I LOVE the feeling of the hot water mingling with the cooler and creeping up my body).
2. I had these guys watching:
Now I don’t know about you but for some reason they creep me right out. I mean you can just tell looking at the starfish he’s a big perve, can’t even look at me straight! The fish is up to something dodgy, the octopus is obviously alarmed at my gargantuan size and is probably wondering how I actually fit in the bath in the first place, and the crab is scared shitless. How are you supposed to relax with all of that going on?
The fun and games, however, began when I tried to get out of the bath. And when I say tried, I mean struggled to lift my body out of the water. And OK, if we’re being honest, when I say struggled I mean was physically unable to lift any part of my body out of the water. Thank God I waited for hubby to get home, and I only did that as obviously only a highly irresponsible parent would have a bath while home alone with their 4 year old daughter (I remembered it would be highly irresponsible whilst getting all the bath things together mind you lol).
So there I am, effectively stuck in the bath, near tears (as if you wouldn’t be, so big you can’t stand up) calling desperately for hubby. He walks in, takes one look and cracks right up. Apparently my unseemly and distressing plight is in some way amusing to him. In some way a comedy routine designed for his benefit. Needless to say, with a lot of arm grabbing, pulling and clinging onto fastly secured objects, I am out and not destined to live my days as some bloated wannabe sea creature.
Niamh, of course, wanted to get in on the act and so mummy had to stand still and be rubbed dry just in case the babies had been upset. The thought of said babies being upset about their mother’s obviously inconsiderate bath adventure led my caring daughter to rain multiple hugs and kisses onto their prison walls.
I would like to end this story by saying I will not be having another bath until the twins are born. That I will not put myself through the humiliation, distress and body-contortioning disaster that is a bathing experience whilst pregnant with twins. However, I would be lying. Because those 20 mins of barely-covered-by-water bliss were truly some of the best 20 minutes I have experienced in the last couple of weeks, and I am not willing to give that up for my pride!!!
How could this weeks contribution not be a Kinder photo?
You were so excited about FINALLY going to Kinder, you lit up like a Christmas Tree as we walked in the door. You politely said hello to your teachers and with some convincing let me put on your name tag (you weren’t quite sure about the pin and if you were the only one wearing one). We played play dough, painted and read a book together, before the parents had a meeting. You walked off and played happily without me, my brave little princess. There’s no denying it now, you’re growing up, way too fast for mummy, but that’s always the way I think. xoxo
Yesterday seemed to be a day for firsts in my family. New experiences, new feelings, and new worries.
First and foremost, yesterday was Niamh’s “first” day at Kinder. You may wonder why I have put that in the universal finger quotes? It’s because officially the first “real” day is Wednesday. But yesterday my darling daughter and I went to her Kinder to participate in her small group interview. This was the first time she had been in the building, met the teachers and some of her classmates, and got a chance to play and explore. It was a big moment for me and I admit I nearly cried (I’m blaming these damn hormones that are running rampant and have taken absolute control of my body!). Needless to say Niamh loved every minute, didn’t want to leave when the session was over, and is very much looking forward to Wednesday.
Yesterday was also the first full day I have taken off work just to spend time with Niamh. I know how that sounds but I promise I’m not a nasty workaholic mum who has no time for her child. Since I had to go back to work all of my sick and personal days have been spent looking after Niamh when she was sick. Unfortunately that has been a lot of the time over the last three years. Daycare will do that to a child. The upside is that I am very confident there will be very little school missed next year as Niamh now has a kick-ass immune system! Either way, I made the decision that yesterday instead of taking Niamh to daycare and rushing back to work, we would spend the day together and enjoy just being together. I know once the twins arrive those times will be severely limited, especially at the start. And I’ll be honest, yesterday was lovely and just what we needed.
Another first for me yesterday, experiencing what I can only believe was a braxton hick contraction. Now I know what you are thinking, hang on doesn’t she already have a child, hence already been pregnant, hence why is this a first????? (Lots of hences I know). But I can unequivocally and without a doubt state that this was indeed a first (lucky last time I guess). And wowser I’m glad this was a first. When these are explained you think small cramp. Now I’m not sure if my body just got overexcited and went all out, but this pain was more than I had expected, longer than I expected, and put gastro pains to shame. I actually had to pull over the car and wait until it had subsided as it took all of my attention. I’m secretly hoping this was a first, and a last, lol.
And finally, the least pleasant first for the day. Last night was the first time I began to truly worry that I may not make it to the 37 week mark and that my precious babies might arrive earlier than that, perhaps much earlier. The thought of premature babies needing special care and a lengthy hospital stay scares the shit out of me. I know that if this was to happen I would cope, there is no other choice, but nobody wants to have to go through something like that. I know that my confidence up to this point has been short-sighted, over-confident and perhaps even a little arrogant, but the statistics are not something I have wanted to face. A large number of twins are born premature, most in fact from what I’ve been told by doctors and the like, and the 35th week seems to be a reoccurring theme amongst the mothers of twins I’ve spoken to. When full-term is considered 37 weeks you know there must be a reason. But Little Miss Denial me has happily ignored all of that. That is until yesterday. I am sure it was the braxton hicks that got me started on this train of thought. Couple that with the fact that both of my twins are currently measuring larger than their dates (based on the averages used) at 1.4kg and 1.3kg respectively and their body part measurements are at least a week bigger (I make big babies I’ve learnt, Niamh was always big for dates). Then there’s the part where I already feel like I did at the end of my last pregnancy (tired, sore, big and unable to move) and I’m only 29 weeks. This is obviously the wake up call I needed and I have determined to take it easier (and not beat myself up over this – actually harder than the doing less bit) and put myself and these babies first.
So overall it was a huge day of firsts for us! What firsts have you experienced lately? What did you learn, or change, from experiencing them? Or are you a mum of twins and have some advice or reassurance for me (both more than welcome and needed at the moment!)?
I hope you all have a great weekend full of amazing firsts.