Category: Family

Letter To My Children

Dear Daniel and Emily

At the minute you are nearly 3 years old and just over one month respectively. You are still my babies. You will always be my babies, although I will try to stop myself calling you that when your friends are round from school. Probably.

But at some point you are going to grow up. You will go to school, then secondary school. You will go to university, and/or get a job. You will make friends, fall in love, and fall out again. One day you will meet the person you are going to spend the rest of your life with; you might know this as soon as you see them, or the realisation might grow on you gradually.

And you might have children of your own. I hope you do – there is nothing like the feeling of holding your baby in your arms. It isn’t all joy; like the rest of life you have times when you think it can’t get any better but also times when you feel you can’t cope. No other experience in your life dominates your day to day existence in the same way. As I type this, I’m using one hand because you, Emily, are suffering from wind and need the comfort of being held constantly. I’m using half my attention because you, Daniel, are talking to me and expecting me to have answers. I suspect that’s the way it will be forever – some part of me, physical or mental, will always be on high alert for when you need me. (Do remember that, by the way? We will always be there when you need us.)

So, your time won’t be yours anymore. You will have many days, like today, when you feel so tired you are actually disconnected from the world, running on a very primitive auto-pilot through a thick fog. You will be exhausted and emotional, impatient and intolerant. You will have days of fondly remembering a time when you didn’t eat a cold dinner or sit up with a sick child all night. Your heart will ache when your children are ill or in pain – again, I have a feeling that will never change. You will feel dread at that first squawking cry, followed immediately by guilt for feeling the dread. You won’t want to close your eyes, because opening them again in ten minutes will feel so much worse.

You need to know these things. You need to know it’s normal to feel this way, because when you’re in the middle of it you won’t feel normal, and you’ll be afraid that you’ll never be normal again. And you need to know when you are going through it that we went through it all with both of you, and we’re waiting right there with a cuddle and a cup of tea.

But then your baby girl will give you her first smile. Your little boy will put his arms around you and tell you he loves you. You’ll look at your child and see all the aspects of your partner that you love the most. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

With all my love
Mummy x

Going Solo – ish.

Well, if anyone follows me on Twitter, they will know that Baby Girl Brown finally made an appearance on Friday 9 April, and is now Emily Grace Brown. I will be blogging more about the birth and first few days another time – no gory details though, the squeamish among you will be pleased to hear. This post, however, is about today specifically.

My husband’s paternity leave ended yesterday, so technically today is the first day where I had both children by myself. Now, I say technically because my husband does actually work from home with flexible hours, so it was cheating a little. Alright, a lot. But it has taught me one or two things.

The morning started off fairly badly – I was tired and stressed from a not-so-good night with Emily and found it a struggle to get going. This wasn’t helped by both children needing my undivided attention pretty much simultaneously, and my only thoughts ran along the lines of “Oh no, I am never going to manage this, please can we just all stay in bed?” That’s where Daddy comes back in and saves the day, taking care of Daniel so I could feed Emily. He also calmed me down and saved me from crawling back under the duvet. I just found the whole idea of taking care of two children and myself and doing household jobs and writing and a million other things (which this morning seemed both imperative and immediate) completely overwhelming. Why this should be so, I have little idea. I used to be a nursery nurse – I had responsibility for lots of small children at once as well as supervising two or three staff and keeping records. The difference, I guess, is that these are my children. However much I cared for the children at nursery, they could never be as infinitely precious to me as Daniel and Emily, and the pressure to look after the nursery children pales in comparison to the responsibility I have been given for these two. Also, I don’t get to hand Daniel and Emily back at the end of the day!

In summary then, I started the day with high expectations of myself on which I had failed before I even got out of bed. I foresaw days filled with screaming children, me dwindling away to nothing as I ran round after them, the house getting gradually more and more squalid, husband fading away from starvation because I couldn’t get near the kitchen to cook anything…you get the picture. By half ten, things were looking up. I had a shower, and by half eleven all three of us were dressed and had had some breakfast. And it was nearly time for lunch already…(cue start of hysteria returning – deep breaths, deep breaths).

This afternoon, I managed to gain some control over the house, the children were both happy, fed and comfortable and I had a more realistic perspective on what I could achieve and what my priorities were. I say again, this is mostly due to the safety net I had of my husband being in the house, just a shout away if need be. I already had a great deal of respect for anyone raising children on their own – this has increased tenfold and also encompasses anyone whose partner does not work from home – the majority of the population I imagine! I do realise, in between feeling frazzled, how lucky I am. I have friends who I can call on at any time, even if it’s just for a coffee out of the house. I have an unbelievably strong support network on Twitter – I can’t say enough how much it means to put a couple of tweets up and receive back (often within minutes) replies confirming that I am actually a normal human being feeling normal things. I have family – not exactly nearby but close enough that they would be here within the hour and send me back to bed with a cup of tea while taking over everything. And I have an amazing husband who I can only describe as my lifeline. So that’s one thing that my first day of going solo(ish) has taught me – to appreciate how lucky I am.

The other thing I’ve learned – which I will almost certainly need to re-learn and re-learn until the children are putting me in a retirement home – is that I need to get a grip and put things into perspective. I am not going to achieve superhuman standards, simply because I am not superhuman (I know, I find it hard to believe too). Today for me was about keeping the children safe and happy and getting some control over the house again. Once I realised that and put the other things aside, I achieved it and have a great big tick on my to-do list. Now, I’m sitting in a tidy house (well ok, the floors need hoovering. Give me a break eh?), having done two meals, with two happy children and a happy husband, and I’m even getting time to write a blog post. I think I will be going to bed (early!) a happy girl, and we’ll see what tomorrow’s going solo-ish brings.

And Now, The End Is Near…

And so I face, the final curtain… On pregnancy, anyway.

With ten days until Baby Girl Brown is due (won’t it be nice to have a real name for her!) and little signs, not to mention wishful thinking, that she could come any time, my thoughts have naturally been straying to the future.

It is likely that this will be my last pregnancy, for many reasons. Chief of which is that I don’t really do pregnancy well. I’m not a glowing Earth Mother, and although there are some aspects of pregnancy which I will miss, overall I am better off not trying it again. The thing is, it’s not quite how I expected it. For ten years I’ve had an image of myself and my husband with three children and it’s strange letting go of that image. The names, sexes, age gaps weren’t important, just that there were three of them. I don’t know why it was important, either. Probably because my husband is an only child, and although I have a brother it is unlikely in the extreme that he will ever marry or have children, so the idea of us having three brought lots of happy images of large family gatherings, lots of grandchildren, family squabbles, you get the picture. But, c’est la vie.

I know we are actually incredibly lucky. When we’ve wanted a baby we have been lucky enough to get pregnant straight away. We’ve had, God willing, two healthy children – I know we still have to get through the actual delivery but judging from the way I get kicked she’s a robust little thing. We’ve suffered the pain of a miscarriage, but only one – I know both my mother and mother in law had at least two each and some women many more. If it comes to that, some women cannot get pregnant at all, and I am (though it may not sound like it) appreciative of how easy we’ve had it.

It just seems very final. Even during my last pregnancy, which I didn’t enjoy much, I was thinking about ‘next time’ and the next baby. It seems weird to be thinking this could be the last time I am in this situation, and a little sad too. As I said earlier, I have had this image for ten years, and that’s a lot of dreams to let go of. Never say never, of course, but the truth is it’s probably better for the whole family. Both Daniel and my husband suffered a lot when I was in hospital so much at the beginning, and that won’t get any easier as I get older. And I can improve my fitness, but that won’t help the fact that I would be x years older, or cut down my chance of hyperemesis for example.

So, as this pregnancy draws to a close, I am trying to savour the feelings I have as much as possible. Predominantly, I grant you, they are mostly pain. Backache, fairly constant Braxton Hicks, to-the-bone tiredness, muscles pulling left, right and centre in my abdomen, feet jabbing up into ribs. But there is also the special feeling of amazement, which cannot be described, the really, really weird feeling of a little body moving inside your stomach, the reassurance when you first get to feel movement or see the scan picture. The guesses, picked more or less out of thin air, as to what she will look like, what we’ll end up calling her, how she’ll eventually arrive. Sharing details with Daniel – hearing him talk about his baby sister and sharing a secret smile with my husband over how he will really react when she comes. Thinking of my baby as a big brother, thinking of both my babies playing together, growing together, loving each other.

And, now that the end is near, I look forward to the future. This is us, this is our family, and (you can throw these words back at me later when I blog about how tired I am!) I want to make the most of it.

Baby Girl Brown Sweepstake

We’re coming towards the end, and much more quickly than I had been expecting to be honest. I remember the last few weeks with my son dragging on and on and on and…you get the picture. But in a couple of days I will be 33 weeks, and the weeks are ticking over faster than you can say Braxton Hicks.

We’re doing well. Hospital bags are packed, pram and car seat are scrubbed and gleaming, nappies are washed and f0lded. We have a couple of jobs to do (buying little things like a mattress so the poor thing has somewhere to sleep for instance. That should have read “we’re doing well…for us”) but if, say, the baby came this week we’d be fine.

So I thought I might have a little fun.

Having been inspired lately by a couple of Twittering friends who have run competitions on their blogs (@cathryanhoward and @alisonwells – follow them, do, they’re lovely) I fancy doing a little sweepstake. A little prize for the person who guesses the right weight of the baby and the name we choose (only first name, not middle, that would be cruel). Bonus prize for anyone who correctly predicts that the little monkey comes out a boy after all, the due date being April Fool’s Day and all. OK, I take that one back because now some smarty pants will hedge their bets and just say ‘boy’ anyway. A real bonus prize for anyone who says (in advance!) the actual date of birth.

For a little bit of help, I will update this post with any info I get from medical professionals with estimated weights etc – if that is helpful, I don’t know. They were way off with my son. Who, by the way, was 9lb 4oz. I know people often say the second one is bigger – please, unless you want to see a grown woman faint, keep guesses under this weight! I will also update in a couple of weeks a picture of myself (when I can bring myself to do it) so you can see The Bump.

I can give no help on names as we are still making a shortlist, so have fun with that one.

I have no idea as yet what the prize will be, you’ll have to be kept in suspense on that one. My husband suggested an iPad – I think he hopes no-one will get it right. It won’t be an iPad. A notepad, possibly.

Watch this space folks.

UPDATE, 1 MARCH 2010: Nothing scientific, not back for checkup until next week. But for your information, Baby Girl Brown has suddenly seemed to double in size. With a month to go (exactly, eek!) I no longer feel like I’m carrying a baby but a huge, wriggling lump of concrete. So anyone guessing on the big side would seem, at the minute, to be closer to the truth than I would like! I’ll try to be brave and post a photo soon.

UPDATE, 3 MARCH 2010: Ha, knickers to the pessimists who think this will be a big baby! She may feel like a lump of lead, but according to midwife who I saw today, I have a very reasonably-sized bump for how long I have left to go. By which, I mean small. Not too small, just not huge. So there.

UPDATE, 9 MARCH 2010: Ok, bit of stuff happening but also not. I shall explain, but it involves very slightly messy details, so if you’re squeamish or uninterested look away now. Sunday night: waters leaking. Not broken, I hasten to add, in the sense of floods everywhere, husband needing to put waders on to rescue me from deluge, just leaking, but very definitely so. Upon examination in hospital mucus plug has moved. (That was the messiest detail, it’s safe to look again now.) Last night (Monday) I went in with really bad pains (seriously, on a scale of 1 to 10 with 10 being ‘agonising’, I was at least an 8) which were regular contractions that…DIED away. Meh. We stayed in hospital until 2 am as they kept building up but nothing was happening. The only thing that can be said is that upon examination I was found to be 2cm dilated. And the same 4 hours later. And I could be staying the same for the next 4 weeks. So things were happening, but also not. Does that help with the sweepstake?!

Oh, and I’ve decided. Prize for closest to date, weight and name will get £10 (or €10) Amazon.co.uk voucher. Sorry it’s not more artistic and inspired but at least it’s practical!

UPDATE, 5 APRIL 2010: So, yes, we’re currently 4 days overdue, and it turns out that this isn’t so much fun. It also means that as things currently stand, only Rachel can win on date unless people have another guess, which I’m not sure isn’t cheating a little…but also remember the original criteria were date, name and weight. I will accept name and weight. Anyway, there are two bits of news. Firstly, I am going for a membrane sweep tomorrow (6 April), and according to my lovely consultant this often gets things going once you’re past your due date. Let’s hope. Also tomorrow they will book me in for induction just in case, probably for the coming weekend. With this in mind, we have mentally adjusted our countdown so that we are now not expecting anything to happen before 12 April. This is to save our sanity and to field calls from well-meaning relatives and friends. Not sure how effective it’s been so far in that respect,  but it has helped me a great deal as I was close to breaking point. You see, none of this was in the plan. She was supposed to arrive before her due date. I did not count on spending Easter weekend still pregnant, or even considering induction again. So, gentle reader, please keep everything crossed that she stirs herself soon…

UPDATE 01 MAY 2010: Emily Grace was born on 9 April weighing 9lb 5 oz, at 8 days overdue. And of course she is absolutely beautiful! Apologies it’s taken so long to update the post with sweepstake results, but it’s been a little overwhelming!

Anyway, all things considered, we’ve come to a decision on the sweepstake winner. You were all shockingly out with your date predictions, so no-one wins on date. However, there was one person who not only got the name right but was scarily close to the birth weight. So, with a guess of Emily (correct) and 9lb 6oz (only 1oz out), the winner is…..(cue drum roll, and agonisngly long pause in the style of a TV talent show) Jane Travers! Congratulations, your Amazon voucher will be winging its way to you soon.

Thanks everyone for guessing!

My Way

And now, the end is near, and so I face the final curtain…

With D-Day drawing closer (by which I mean Delivery-of-baby Day, not WW2 Normandy Landings. By the by, did you know that apparently the D in D-Day doesn’t stand for anything? If anyone can correct me on this I’d be very grateful).

With D-Day drawing closer, as I said, the time seems right for a little reflection. It is, after all, a momentous occasion in a woman’s life when she gives birth. A rite of passage, a dawning of a new era, etc etc. Never again will I be Becca, mum of one, from now on I will be Becca, Supermum of two. And so on and so forth.

And yes, all of those things are true. But I’m not going to talk about that stuff today. Save it for another post – it can be a way of passing the time when the baby I am hoping will arrive early is actually three weeks late. Today I would like to, well, have a bit of a rant.

One of the most glibly untrue things you may hear when you find out you are pregnant is that you can choose where you give birth. It is your choice, they will tell you. The NHS website that gives general pregnancy information (among other things) is even called Choices. Look it up – Your Health, Your Choices, runs the tagline.

There are many long and boring examples I could give from this pregnancy as to why this is, um, misleading. I won’t go into them – if you’re desperate to hear my tales of woe email me. The most laughable of my gripes with the wonder that is the NHS is to do with basic information sharing. I have had to have regular blood tests because my thyroid levels have been totally messed up. Easy, they say. Go to your GP, they will do the test and send the specimen to the hospital. Except my hospital is outside of the Health Authority – again, there is a long and boring reason for this, but it boils down to my local hospital is a nightmare and the one I’ve chosen is less so. It’s not far away, but it does fall out of the area. So my GP practice won’t send the blood specimen to my hospital after all. They send them to a completely different one. And get this? They can’t share the results. The local hospital can’t put the results onto some kind of computer record, my chosen hospital can’t phone up to get them. In the age of technology in which we now live, I think the NHS (at least in North East England) has been left behind by about a century. On the flip side, having had the blood test and results have come through, lo and behold my thyroxine dose needs to be altered. My GP knows nothing of this so when I order a repeat prescription I get the wrong dose. Out by about 100mcg, which is a normal adult dose in itself. Communication, people?

These might seem trivial complaints, and indeed they are, you’re right. I don’t care. I’m getting to the end of the pregnancy, I reserve the right to milk my hormonal status for as long as I’ve got left. Everything would be easily sorted if I switched to my local hospital. But, besides the fact that it’s an awful place to be and I’m seriously doubtful as to whether the staff are actually on this planet, it’s a matter of principle now.

So, rant over. Tune in next time for a more mellow, happy reflection on my pregnancy, when I will appear to be the embodiment of serene motherhood. Probably.