Domestic? Hardly. Goddess? Of course ;-)



Yesterday, however,  I was a bit of both. I’m all preened and plucked and have been pampered to within an inch of my life in preparation for those post-birth photo’s. (My goodness that’s a lot of p’s lol) and I’ve also either undergone a personality transplant unknowingly or have finally been blessed with the good old instinct to nest.



I’ve been waiting for the nesting instinct to kick in for weeks and weeks now, all the while my house was starting to resemble something Kim and Aggie would want to get their marigolds on. On my big pregnant bottom I’d sat, willing myself to attempt the housework, alas I couldn't muster the strength for anything more than a Sky + remote workout. 

Well finally a few days ago I had my body possessed by a clean freak and boy have I made up for lost time. Scrubbing, scouring, spraying, cleansing, bleaching . . . You name it we did it. (You see with the nesting instinct also came a bossing instinct which ensured that both Jay and Lori were involved in my cleaning spree.)



Yesterday, on my hands and knee’s, I scrubbed the bathroom floor with bump serving as a drying and polishing aid, (twas quite funny actually, even though I was soaked by the end of it) and I’m feeling so satisfied right now with everything done and dusted. Barry Scott eat ya heart out . . .



My labour bag, now that I’m left with little choice but to have this baby in hospital, is finally all packed with totally undignified yet essential items such as disposable pants and maternity pads. All acting as a cruel reminder of what I’ve got to come. I’m nervous as hell but so want to get this show on the road.



The only way I can describe how I feel right now is to compare it, (very naively) to sky diving, (of course this comparison isn’t likely to be very precise since I am a ‘feet firmly on the ground (in gorgeous shoes) kinda gal’ and have therefore not even come close to jumping outta a plane,) but for the purpose of explanation this is what I’m going with.



The plane is soaring, the door is open, I’m waiting for the final countdown to begin before I take a giant leap. My heart is pounding, I feel sick and dizzy.



Add the false alarms and painfully strong Braxton hicks that I have been getting regularly for days and days now and I feel as though someone is rocking me towards the door of the plane and then yanking me back again. ‘Ready . . . Steady . . . Only joking.’



I’m on pain killers to help ease the tenderness that these practise contractions are causing but they don’t seem to be helping much, because it still hurts so much that at times I feel I could just collapse into a heap and cry a million tears.



It’s got to the point now where I no longer trust my body nor my instincts.  My bump will tense until it is as heavy and hard as a boulder. My back will begin to ache under the strain and my breath will be temporarily out of reach and I have little choice but to try to ignore it and hope it’ll either be accompanied by something dramatic like the breaking of my waters or something or will just f- off and leave me in peace.



It’s exhausting and depressing and just plain cruel. And I have officially reached that stage in pregnancy where I could quite literally climb to the rooftops and scream, ‘GET it out!!!’ (Alas do not fear, my previously mentioned ‘feet on the ground’ thing will prevent me from making any risky trips on top of buildings! Lol)



But it’s not just the pain that’s at the root of my impatience. Because I also just cannot wait to meet this little person now. Cannot wait to love and nurture him on the outside. To welcome him into our (now very clean and sparkly) home and cradle him as the newest member of our family.



I have been pregnant for over a year now. In total it has been 59 weeks. It’s been the biggest endurance test ever and such a rollercoaster of a ride. Reaching the halfway mark in one pregnancy before receiving such tragic news that I don’t think any of us will ever truly get over, was by far the most traumatic experience I’ve ever had (and with my track record of dramatic events that is saying something) - Then when we discovered I was expecting again, just 6 short weeks after we had lost our gorgeous baby boy, and we had to live in constant fear that we were about to experience a case of history repeating. Especially when the genetics doctors told me we had just a one-in-four chance of our new baby being born healthy. Well we made it this far, the finishing line is just days away, yet I don’t feel as though I can wait another second.



So I’m going to be a naughty girl this afternoon, I’m going to be a rebel (something's never change.)  I have tried every other method in my GTBOM experiment to no avail and I have just one final trick up my sleeve—The Castor Oil.



It’s gotta be dodgy stuff. It’s harder to get hold of than crack. Seriously. It’s kept under lock and key in the pharmacy and pregnant women are absolutely forbidden to purchase it. This fact should not fill me with confidence, it should make me reconsider entirely. So too should all the terrible reviews and horrific stories I’ve read. So too should the comments and experiences and advice from my fellow pregnant ladies. Alas I am, I’m ashamed to admit, just one of those girls who’ll never learn. Or rather shall learn eventually but will always take the most difficult route. I have come to accept this over the years.



Basically I’ve read that castor oil, (which, as mentioned in my previous blog, is a really strong laxative) is meant to encourage contractions by making the intestines, which surround the uterus at this late stage of pregnancy, contract. This in itself is basically supposed to speed things up a little. So you see, In my opinion all I am really doing is giving mother nature and my stubborn body a gentle shove in the right direction.



If I have to suffer contractions at least let them being working towards getting my longed-for bubba into my arms.



Women have been using Castor Oil for decades and decades, though once again there are claims that nobody really knows how successful this method is for kick-starting labour because there hasn’t been enough research undertaken, which just sounds like such a load of bull to me.



I’ve been given advice from some of the girls in the village who have all tried it before. They all recommend eating an enormous meal, (which should be easy peasy for me as my current appetite could rival an elephants!) then mixing the oil with OJ (Apparently the oil really is completely disgusting) - downing it in one before hopping into a lovely warm tub, having a soak and waiting for the effects.



This is pretty much how I’ll be spending my afternoon. I’m nervous but hopeful—dreading the horrible side effects but praying that this will be the one trick in the book that’ll work for my bump and I.



Please don’t tell me off. I’m a big girl and I promise to suffer in silence if it does all go horribly wrong. Either way I’ll keep you posted!



x

 

Well it would seem my iron levels have remained the same. The results of yesterday's blood test were delivered to me this morning along with the inevitable news that I will be giving birth in the chamber of horrors. (Oooops I mean hospital.)

To say i'm gutted is an understatement. I feel so let down and so angry with myself for believing that this time things would be different. They should have given me the results weeks ago, then it would be a different story. Knobheads. (I apologise for my use of immature language alas i am very hormonal and tend to find swearing rather theraputic actually.)

I'l get over it, it's just gonna take a while to sink in.

In the meantime I cannot see any reason why this little person shouldn't join us on the outside now and so operation GTBOM ("GET THIS BABY OUTTA ME" - in case you were wondering) is now at the fore-front of my mind and on the top of my list of priorities from now on!

I'm going for a long walk in a bit (I read that walking will help ensure he's in the easiest position) and after that am heading into town to buy all the ingredients for my project. On my list . . .

Castor Oil. (I know those of you who know all about pregnancy and the effects of taking this laxative will be sucking in breath through gritted teeth right now and reading with expressions of horror on your faces, alas i am being rebellious today and will suffer in silence later if it doesn't work!)

More pineapple, (you never know)

Something spicy for tea (could go with the usual Curry but am thinking Mexican could be even better!)

Was going to put Raspberry Leaf Tea however have just read that I should have been taking this every day for the past 6 weeks for it to have any real effect. Pants.

Evening Primrose Oil (I'm gonna be so silky and greasy with all this oil consumption! lol)

Oregano and Fresh Basil. (Don't ask about the scientific effects, i haven't really done my homework on this one, but will try nevertheless!)

Am also needing to purchase new PJ's, slippers and dressing gown for labour bag.

Oh and need to put car-seat in car.

And chocolate to cheer me up too!

Steph x

Well Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight is the night i have been waiting for, for weeks and weeks and weeks.

In a few hours I will officially hit week 38 of this pregnancy and therefore will be on target for the home birth i have had my heart set on.

My birthing pool is all pumped up and filled with water and the equipment is all set. The dining room is hereby known as the delivery suite and my GTBOM project can now officially commence (although we all know that my impatience has persuaded me to start a few of the methods a little earlier, tut, tut!)

And guess what? It appears that my spending a little time on all-fours (no! Not like that you filthy buggers!) has paid off - baby is no longer back-to-back and is instead all ready for take-off in exactly the right position.

You'd think I'd be on top of the world right now?!

Well i was, until the midwife announced that the results of my last blood test showed my iron levels are too low to actually qualify me for a home birth.

They've had these results for over a month yet didn't feel it necessary (considering my plans for a homebirth) to actually share them with me. One fucking month. I could have been taking supplements. I could and would have been stocking up on my greens. But they failed to tell me until now. Now when i can pretty much do sweet FA about it.

I hate to upset anyone here with this next comment (and indeed paragraphs) but it has to be said. The shitty NHS, their rules, regulations and overall negligence never ceases to disappointment me. What a tosserific organisation. Total and utter shit and nowhere near worthy of the amount of tax we pay.

I had thought that by choosing to have this baby at home I would be avoiding the majority of all the stress and dissapointment that comes with virtually any experience of the NHS. 

I'd hoped i could have a little control over my own labour and birthing experience, yet instead it seems that, due to their incompetence, I may have to put up with the usual.

Appalling care, (due to staff shortages and extortionate waiting times.)

A total lack of privacy, (the last time i was on the labour ward i found myself next to a poor woman in horrific pain wailing away. She was 7cm's dilated and progressing so quickly and still they had not been able to offer her a private room. The woman opposite me, meanwhile, was sounding deeply embarrassed as she was asked to discuss details of her muchas plug for all to hear. Seriously they pull those mouldy curtains around you as though that will somehow make you invisible and inaudible to the rest of the ward.) 

A sargeant major midwife (whom i imagine will be 'looking after' several women at once and therefore will be unavailable most of the time.)

And of course . . .

parking charges,

terrible food

And restrictions on everything from toilets, (birth partners are not allowed to use the toilets on the labour ward and instead are required to leave and use the facilities in the main hospital) to visiting times.

I'm being a pessimistic grouchy cow i know (I'm so tired though, one of the symptoms of being anemic!) And I could be totally wrong, but i'd rather be prepared for what i fear will be the case than try to convince myself that it'll be different this time round and then be bitterly disappointed at the end of it all.

The midwife has taken more blood today and will be re-testing and telephoning me with the results tomorrow. So there is a teeny, weeny chance that my levels might be okay now (four weeks on) - but I'm seriously suspecting that the results will be the same and my dreams and plans for a home birth will be gone with the wind. (And I'll be lumbered with the worlds most expensive paddling pool! lol)

The last time I went into labour and gave birth i didn't get to take my baby home. Instead i left empty handed and my little boy went to heaven.

The time before that I delivered my daughter and was practically evicted from the hospital before the effects of pethidine had even worn off. (They needed my bed.)

I so hoped it would a case of third time lucky this time round.

I know it doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. What will be will be and the only real aspect of importance is that baby is delivered safely. Yet I'm longing for a happy birthing experience. and it's so difficult not to feel let down.

I'll find out in the morning and I doubt i'll get any sleep tonight.

Wish me luck!

x