Ramblings: Recovery (what I remember of it)

About halfway through my pregnancy I started to imagine those two months I would take off work after childbirth, and conjured up images of myself being the perfect home builder-mother type person, keeping the house perfectly clean, laundry done, groceries shopped for and freshly made meals prepared every day, so that C could come home late at night and heat up his dinner. Oh yes, I imagined that the first couple of weeks would be difficult, but after that I would magically snap back into my normal self. Little did I know that instead of being worried about the last months of pregnancy or childbirth I should have been preparing for the recovery.

I learnt that there is no “perfect” way to be a mother. You aren’t going to be that woman in the baby food commercial, hair perfectly coiffed, matching outfit and wobbly bits miraculously disappeared. And that’s OK – because you ARE perfect, to your child. You are the most important person in your child’s life, and that’s the most important thing you keep in mind. Motherhood is what you make it, and that’s the wonderful part about it all.

Read what you will about pregnancy and childbirth, recovery is often glazed over (or maybe I glazed over it?). I wish books were more honest with how hard it actually is. You know when they say prepare meals and put them in the freezer? DO IT. And not just for a week or two. Make enough for a month. Stock up on tea and coffee and things that don’t perish easily. Have take out menus and Seamless on hand because if you often find yourself home alone with your child and you are breastfeeding you may not find the time to prepare a meal. And you get HUNGRY. I forgot what it was actually like to be hungry during those last months of pregnancy, but now my stomach actually rumbles every few hours. Don’t worry too much of dishes aren’t done immediately and things get a little dusty – because recovery isn’t called recovery without reason. You have to rest.

I really thought I would be up and about after 2 weeks. After 5 weeks I was still nowhere near the image in my imagination of before. I finally started going out for walks every day. I finally stopped wearing pajama bottoms and started wearing actual clothes. After 7 weeks I feel a LOT better, and have been making trips into the city and making it back alive. Going back to work is something that I never want to have to consider again (um are you asking me to actually LEAVE my child with someone else?!! No way.), and we finally have this breastfeeding thing down for the most part (more on that later). There are so many things that I would like to warn other first time mothers to be about that I wish I had known (or acknowledged when people were trying to warn me). Granted, it may be very different for others, but I think I would have been easier on myself if I had known the toll it would take on me.

No one told me during labour that all the Pitocin and antibiotics they pumped into me could delay my milk coming in for a bit longer than average. Or maybe it doesn’t affect everyone like that, but all that medicine took a toll on my body, maybe more so because I hardly ever take antibiotics. I mean I don’t ever remember taking any at all! The first night in the hospital Luna was crying her eyes out, and I kept thinking she must be hungry, even though I had read that all they need in the first few days was the colostrum you produce until your milk comes in. The night nurse came in to check on us and basically told me that my child was starving and that if I couldn’t feed her properly myself then I needed to give her formula. Even when I tried to explain that that was not true and I didn’t want to give my child formula she kept pressing the issue. Those close to me know how important it was for me to breastfeed exclusively, but after labour and no sleep for 30 hours, a brand new newborn crying in despair in my arms and someone pushing a solution on me, I gave in. The next morning, after a few hours sleep I felt like myself again and was really angry for not being listened to and decided to not let my arm be twisted again. And yes, the formula did shut her up and comfort her, and yes, we did give her a tenth of a bottle over the first couple of nights she was home, but she really disliked it and just wanted to nurse. And nursing was SO painful. I literally cried in pain and gritted my teeth so that Luna wouldn’t feel my stress and pain every time she latched on. The lactation consultant I had seen in the hospital was a complete waste of space (she didn’t even come near enough to actually show me how to make sure I was doing it properly). When myy milk finally came in 6 days after birth and so did the cracked and painful nipples. Breastfeeding is NOT easy, and whoever says it is must have been really lucky. We struggled for at least 3 weeks to get it right, but I am very proud of us both for succeeding and persevering. Oh, and you will not starve your child if your milk isn’t there immediately… Before formula existed women could only breastfeed (or hand their child over to a wet nurse), so don’t listen to people who think better. Case in point: Luna actually put on weight over the first week after her birth and grew 2 inches, and that was NOT due to the tiny amount of formula we gave her the first few days – it was due to what I was giving her, however painful it was. I’ve even started to get over my fear of breastfeeding in public, and even did it in Washington Square Park without a cover the other day (only because there were other mothers doing it and I felt less self-conscious – I used a cover on the subway!). I’m aiming on doing this for a year if possible, even after we start her on solids after 6 months. She’s growing so fast, so it’s definitely doing her the world of good!

I mentioned the subway just above – apart from walking the only form of transport that I use to get around the city… Luna loves her carrier (although the one we have plays havoc on my back after a while so we are saving up to get an Ergo which will help), but if I am going to be out and about in the city for a while I need to be able to put her down at times, and this has been impossible the last few times I have taken her out in it. And she gets really hot in the carrier… It’s a great option for short journeys and if you are going from one location to another but difficult when you are strolling around. She also loves the stroller (and I use it when she refuses to sleep during the day which she does all the time), but the stroller is heavy with the infant seat in it and I can’t carry it up and down stairs by myself just yet. So I figured out which stations have elevators and did a trial run the other day. It’s doable, a little confusing at times (especially 74^th St/Roosevelt Ave), and most people were really helpful and lovely (bar the lady who was in a rush and shouted at me that some people didn’t have the luxury of staying home with their kids…). It’s all part of living in the city… And part of the reason that I really want away from all the stress. I LOVE this city and I LOVE that it has been my home for the past 9 years, but I am starting to consider a change… But those thoughts are for another time. In the meantime I won’t let it stop me from getting out and about, but I will be spending a lot of time out and about nearer home. 

 There will be people who tell you how to parent your child, but I learnt well over the first couple of weeks that none of that really matters – it’s what works for you as parents and your child that is the best. I remember being in the drug store with a friend when Luna started crying while I was paying at the check-out. She literally had time to let out one little wail when a woman behind me said loudly to the rest of the people in the store “somebody needs to give that child a pacifier!” Oh really? I was actually a little shocked and just muttered something about how rude she was and then posted about it on Facebook. A friend left a comment about just ignoring these types of comments gracefully, as I would hear them all of the time, and she was absolutely right. And babies cry, it’s normal. It may be irritating to others, but no one is going to be able to keep their child inside until they are two years old, and at the same time, nobody wants to shut their child up just for the sake of others. There is nothing wrong with a child vocalizing what they want – and the only way for a baby to do it is by crying. I have a baby who is very vocal and I am not going to apologise for it! In the end, I am the one who has been blessed with this beautiful child, and C and I are the only ones who will have a say in how she is raised. 

And that’s the whole point, isn’t it? Through-out my pretty wonderful pregnancy and less than wonderful recovery the main point is that we created an amazing little human being who is growing and thriving every day. I already have forgotten the discomfort of the first trimester and the miserable hugeness of the last two weeks of the third trimester, and at nearly 8 weeks post partum I have already completely glazed over the pain of the recovery. To be honest if I hadn’t started writing this 3 weeks ago I probably wouldn’t even have written anything about it. Because it was ALL completely worth it. I look at my daughter’s beautiful little peaceful face while she is sleeping and have to restrain myself from kissing her cheeks every 2 seconds. She smiles at me in the morning and laughs when I do silly things to make her giggle. It still blows my mind that C and I were able to create this little person, the most important action we have ever done in our lives. I’m still completely overwhelmed with happiness and I doubt this feeling will ever go away! 

(Huge thanks to my friends Tiffany, Ryvenna and Gina for helping me get through the first few weeks just by answering questions and reassuring me that I was normal, and a huge thanks to Google for answering many of my questions, allaying many fears and sometimes for scaring the shit out of me. And another huge thanks to my doctor Ronnie Lichtman for being there through-out my whole pregnancy, for answering my questions and for just being a lovely human being. I am really going to miss all the ladies at MIC Fort Greene).

Ramblings: Luna Marlena's Birth Story

Years and years ago, when I was a mere teenager I told myself that one day I would have a daughter and would call her Luna. In the years that followed I did not have a daughter, but did acquire a tiny little cat that I called Luna and who stayed with me for many years until she passed away from old age. And then I got pregnant and at 21 weeks we found out I was expecting a little girl. C. must have read a blog post that I had written one day in which I mentioned the above story, and told me that we should name our daughter Luna. Marlena (pronounced Mar-lay-na), is a nod towards Marlene Dietrich, my favourite actress and an inspiration. I love names that end in “a”. And we obviously chose right because her name fits her perfectly, although she has also kept the nickname of Munchie as it has followed her out of the womb and into our arms…

Luna Marlena was born on April 9^th of this year, 8 days after her due date. Even though a premature birth was always something that I had worried about in the back of my mind all throughout the pregnancy, I had a gut feeling that she would not be in a rush to get out and would probably make it right up until they scheduled to induce me. Her due date of April 1^st came and went and I was scheduled to be induced on April 8^th. I had mixed feelings about being induced, and really wanted her to come naturally, but it was hospital policy to not let anyone go for longer than 41 weeks. And when I got to 41 weeks I was ready to give birth! I had some false labour contractions three days before, but nothing else, and when I woke up on April 8^th at 6am I knew that she would finally be born within the next 40 hours as I was going to be induced that morning. Of course it all wasn’t going to be THAT simple, as my waters broke just before I got into the shower… Hence the fact that there was no time to take a photo of me at 41 weeks as everything became a little more urgent at that point! Seeing as I had been having what I thought were Braxton Hicks contractions all weekend (based on what the doctor had said on the Friday at the hospital after my baby stress test), I had no idea if labour was going to be long or short now that my waters had broken. We got stuck in traffic and it took us 90 minutes to get from Flushing to Fort Greene. I remained somewhat calm – to be honest I was more worried about making a mess in the cab and being late for the 8am appointment than being in pain (I am British after all). Thankfully little Munchie decided she was in no real hurry to make an appearance, so I got settled in at the hospital and checked out by the doctor on duty. 

The idea at that point was to wait and see if the contractions I was having were getting stronger or not before giving me any type of induction medication. I had a birth plan, but it really wasn’t set in stone – I was only intent on making sure I had the option for an epidural if I felt like it, but that I had the choice to not have any pain medication if I didn’t, that I could breastfeed exclusively without having to worry about anyone feeding my daughter formula if I had to have a c-section, and lastly, that I would only have a c-section of absolutely necessary. To be honest I had no idea what to expect so wasn’t going to put any demands on myself or on my child. Through-out my pregnancy I had always hovered between being worried about everything and just listening to my body and knowing that everything would be OK if I were healthy and happy. I was right. While pregnancy was all too real, especially when I started really showing, the actual idea of child birth was totally surreal. You mean a baby was going to come out of me? I know it’s been done a million times before, but not to me. So it was basically a “let’s see what happens when it happens” part of my life, and as soon as my waters broke I was excited, scared and actually composed. I had been waiting so long to meet my daughter and it was finally time (and the acid reflux towards the end of my pregnancy was driving me insane).

Unfortunately, even though I was having contractions they weren’t really doing anything and my cervix was literally still closed a few hours after I was admitted. Due to the fact that I had lost all of the amniotic fluid that morning I wasn’t allowed to leave the hospital bed (not even to go to the toilet which became really annoying. Why would I, extremely healthy person, need to use a bedpan?! UGH). The doctors decided to give me Pitocin to speed up the contractions and make them more affective as well as antibiotics to ensure that there was no risk of infection to the baby. Three hours later and I was only 1cm in and the contractions were getting a lot stronger. I was also exhausted and hungry (make that starving, all I had managed to eat that morning was a small bowl of cereal). They won’t let you eat or drink anything just in case you have to be rushed into surgery – even when you plead with them. I wasn’t even allowed to suck on boiled sweets. Only ice chips… By 3pm or so all I wanted to do was get some sleep and not have to use a bedpan so I decided to go for the epidural (and I am really glad I did for this birth, I think I may opt out with the next one though, more on that later). The anesthesiologist was lovely and took her time putting the epidural in to ensure that it worked, and I understood why they asked you to do it sooner rather than later – it takes about 30 minutes to do and you need to remain super still, which is quite impossible when you are having contractions every 5 minutes. By 4 pm my lower body was completely numb and although I could feel the pressure of the contractions, the pain completely disappeared. As did any ability to move my legs – I needed to ask C and my mum to help me move if I needed to change positions. It was around this point that I realised even more than I ever had before the depths of my love for both C and my mother – there was no one else that I would have been comfortable with having there all the way through, and at the same time couldn’t imagine doing it without them there. I knew at that point that this is where you realize there is no room for modesty in childbirth and that you don’t really care anyway – for someone who hates people even hearing me pee it still shocks me today how I just didn’t care what I looked like during labour – all that mattered was that I was able to give birth to a healthy and happy little girl and that my boyfriend was there to witness and live through the whole thing.

My first nurse was lovely – she came to check on us every hour on the dot, was really friendly and answered all of my questions. As the baby was still faring well and had a healthy heartbeat they just continued to give me Pitocin, antibiotics and check on progress every 4 hours. I managed to doze off a little, as did my mum and C in their uncomfortable chairs. My lovely, wonderful M. came to visit and smuggled hard candy into the room so that I could try to alleviate the heartburn I was feeling, but by this point I started to feel really woozy and completely out of it. My day time nurse was replaced by the evening nurse, who wasn’t as kind or friendly, and didn’t come in nearly as much. I knew that they had monitors at the nurses’ station anyway, so I wasn’t too worried about anything bad happening… But it would still have been nice to have someone who appeared to actually give a damn! By 7pm I still wasn’t even at 2cm and I started to worry that I was never going to be able to give birth naturally. The doctors reassured me that I still had a lot of time, that everything was going OK and that I should relax, so I tried to do just that. Not easy when you have a bunch of wires coming out of your arm and back, no feeling in your lower body and are then told to wear the oxygen mask, even though your acid reflux was so bad you wanted to vomit. The nurse also started to worry me because she said the oxygen was for the baby – making me immediately think that the baby didn’t have enough oxygen! All this sounds just delightful, I know… It wasn’t that bad, just very strange for me, seeing as the last time I had been in hospital was for my own birth. I was just very happy that I was in the best hands if anything happened to go wrong, and was honestly not expecting to feel comfortable at all… It all still felt very surreal. Kind of like an out of body experience to be honest!

By 11pm when the doctor came back I was worried that there wouldn’t be a change yet again, but I had jumped to 8cm! The doctor seemed pleased, but said he would come back to check up on me around 2am, and told me to sleep. I tried, but I couldn’t sleep – not with knowing that my little one would be born at some point that night! The doctor also told me that severe acid reflux is a sign of imminent labour, therefore a good sign, and to not worry about it. I’m sure that if they had let me eat it would have been better though!!! Argh! More dozing… More watching the movies that were playing on the TV (I honestly can’t really remember what the movies were, and I couldn’t really focus on anything at this point, not on the TV, not on the magazines or the books I had, and definitely not on any type of meaningful conversation!). I’m so glad that C and my mum were there, even though they were probably exhausted and bored. It was reassuring that they could be my voice if for any reason I couldn’t use mine anymore, and that they were there to hold me when I felt awful and in pain. 

Just after 2pm another doctor came in to check me, said that I was ready and told me how to push and then disappeared. At this point I was wide awake and ready – but had no idea if I was supposed to start pushing immediately, or wait for someone to come and assist me… I asked the nurse that question when she came in to change the heartbeat monitor paper and she mumbled that I should be pushing and walked out again. At this point I started getting a little distressed and teary – what, was I supposed to push my baby out by myself?? What was the point of being in hospital?? My mum called the nurse back and she finally transformed herself from zombie into a wonderful human being and stayed with me, helping me to practice my pushing technique. The problem with the epidural is that it’s sometimes hard to determine when the contraction starts so you don’t always know when to push. You have to really focus, and if this is your first child you have nothing to compare it to. The woman in the room in front of me was obviously having a difficult labour as I could hear people going in and out for ages, and the woman in the room behind me had been howling in pain for hours, so I guessed that the night doctors weren’t ready for me to give birth right at that moment as they were busy, hence the fact that nobody actually told me that it was really time (even though I was ready?!).

And then, around 3:15am, doctors and nurses poured into my room and started setting everything up. My bed suddenly became a labour chair, a huge light beamed down on me and three doctors crowded around, getting ready to deliver my daughter. The head doctor gave me a lovely speech on how having an epidural is a great way to control the pushing and therefore helps them to preserve to perineal area, which is always their aim (yeah… well that backfired completely, but no one needs to read about those kind of details) – and then handed the reigns over to the student and the intern. I started to push, and felt so strange doing it, C and my mum holding my arms on each side. I had a feeling I was never going to be able to do it, that the baby would get stuck – even though they kept telling me that the head was right there… Then all of a sudden I heard a short baby cry, and realised that my daughter was already crying while she was still mostly inside me, and in shock pushed her out in one go, head, shoulders and the rest of her body… She was already howling while C cut the umbilical cord and was whisked over to be measured and weighed and tested and cleaned and wrapped up. I was in shock – crying and laughing and not really believing that I had just delivered a baby, my own baby. My eyes still tear up when I think about how amazing that moment was, there is nothing in the world to compare it to. All I wanted was to cuddle my baby for the rest of time, but the doctors spent about 45 minutes fixing what they had to fix (and this is why I am glad I had the epidural), so C got to cuddle her, until one of the nurses said that they needed to take her to the nursery for more tests and to be cleaned properly. Thankfully I got to cuddle her for a few minutes before she was taken away. I was still pretty much in shock at that point – while the whole experience, from losing my waters less than 24 hours before to seeing her little body be pulled from me, still seemed surreal, all of a sudden everything was very, very real. The past 10 months had all culminated into this very moment: the birth of my daughter.

Luna Marlena was born at 4:13am on April 9^th, 2014 at the Brooklyn Hospital Center, weighing 7lbs 13oz, and measuring 18 inches, perfectly healthy and with a good strong pair of lungs and a full head of hair – looking like the spitting image of her dad (with my hair, hands and feet). A pure beauty. I was already in love with her from the moment I found out I was pregnant, so there was no exact moment that I felt like I fell in love, it was more like a feeling of not knowing how to express or communicate all the love that I felt once I had given birth to her. I felt completely gobsmacked and overwhelmed, and a little confused too – I didn’t know why they were taking so long to fix me and why I couldn’t go and join my baby immediately. We were reunited again an hour later in a room in the post partum ward, Luna fast asleep, and me unable to sleep because all I could do was stare at her beautiful little face and hold her tight in my arms. Even today, a little over a month later I still hold her tight and stare at her for hours, still amazed at how C and I created this perfect little human being who already has a strong character and who rules this house like no other.

It’s as if all I have done in my life was preparation for the next stage: life with the loves of my life, my daughter and my boyfriend, and maybe one day with another little blessing…

Photography: 41 weeks

The entire photo set can be found on Flickr HERE. I still can't figure out how to put a slideshow on Blogger.

I have so many stories to write and so many blog posts to catch up on, and, at some point over the next few weeks, I will get to them all, but in the meantime I am spending my time staring at my daughter in awe, taking photos of her, breastfeeding, trying to entertain her and then trying to get a few hours of sleep whenever I can. It's amazing, all of it, motherhood, being part of creating this wonderfully perfect little being, and still feels pretty surreal in all the reality of it.

From week 11 of my pregnancy, right through to just before I hit week 41 (and the reason there is no photo for that week will be explained when I write Luna's birth story) I took a photo of my growing baby bump. It makes me laugh now to think that back in the weeks 13 and 15 and 16 I really thought that I was HUGE and that everyone could tell I was pregnant. Looking back at the photos, it wasn't until I was in the 20th week that you could really start telling if you didn't know me.

Once I hit the third trimester I knew I was going to get big, but it wasn't until I got to week 38 that I actually started feeling uncomfortable... I still roll out of bed like I had to in those weeks, forgetting that I don't need to do that anymore! It's kind of crazy to think that my daughter actually fit inside my belly only 3 weeks ago, and was comfortable there... I can't imagine being curled up like that and not being able to stretch out!

Ramblings: The Waiting Game

  

 The feeling of carrying a bowling ball in one's stomach...

So it’s been the waiting game for the past 5 days now… Will she arrive suddenly, will she take her own, sweet time making an entrance into this world, basically when she feels ready for it? I wonder what it feels like to be all squished up in there, with so little room to move nowadays. How can that be comfortable? Doesn’t she want to stretch her arms and legs out and open those eyes and see daylight? 

For 9+ months you go every day hoping you won’t see any signs of labour, no early contractions, no cramps, no waters breaking; and then you hit your due date and all you want to see is all of those combined so that you know that things have started and that you are finally going to be able to cuddle your child within a matter of hours or days.  April 1^st passed by and although I’ve been having Braxton Hicks, or “practice” contractions for a while, I have not had any signs of labour at all. So I was scheduled for a non-stress test at the hospital and everything looked fine. I got to see my daughter make kissy faces on the sonogram and was sent home with another appointment for the Friday morning (unless I gave birth before). The clinic where I have been going for pre-natal visits and the hospital are in Fort Greene. It was annoying enough when I had to get there from Bushwick, but now that it takes me ages to walk (waddle) anywhere AND we live in Flushing I literally have to leave with a 2 hour window, just in case. 

So on Friday I was overjoyed when I started feeling what seemed to be contractions at 5am. Regular contractions that weren’t unbearable but were definitely not painless. And even though I moved around, drank water, walked, ate something, they still didn’t go away. I had my last doctor’s visit where they scheduled me to be induced (on Tuesday), but there I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to wait until then because labour had started. Off to the hospital we went (poor C. hadn’t slept a wink as he had worked late, but came with me anyway just in case I had to stay in the hospital) – another non-stress test, another sonogram, both revealing that I was having contractions (so at least I wasn’t making that up). The sonogram technician said that everything looked fine, but if I wanted to go home without worrying I would need to come back in a few hours I should go to Labour & Delivery to get checked. An hour later and I was sent packing from the hospital (in the nicest way possible) with the advice to “walk a lot” and hopefully I would give birth before I was to be induced.

So back home we went, hoping that it would be hours and not days… No such luck, it’s now Sunday, I still have those contractions on and off, but no other signs, no intense pain or anything else… Obviously my daughter is quite happy being shy and stubborn and just waiting for HER time. I’m not really worried about it; I just want to finally hold her in my arms after all this time!! And there was I, worried earlier on in my pregnancy that she would decide to make a rapid entrance, waters breaking dramatically on the subway, ambulances and all that. I think it will just end up with me being induced on Tuesday and her arriving peacefully in the hospital the next day. So let’s see what happens! Apparently I was just the same with my mum, not in any rush whatsoever!

There is one thing that I never really thought about before I got pregnant, and that is that the only time I have been in a hospital as a patient was when I was born. And even then, it was a tiny maternity ward in a tiny hospital. I have absolutely no idea what a patient is supposed to do when they go to hospital, what they need to bring, how they are supposed to act and what on earth the order of all the different doctor roles are. For someone who loves hospital shows I am absolutely clueless about the seniority in interns, residents, attendings, doctors etc etc. All I can say after Friday’s visit in L&D Triage is that the nurses are always the nicest and kindest people, and I will be more than happy to just have nurses deliver my baby – especially if they are gentler than the residents! If everything goes according to plan then I won’t need a doctor anyway – just a midwife and nurses. Fingers crossed! And then hopefully that will yet again be my last visit to a hospital until I have another child. 

So in the meantime, I have been pottering around at home, putting butterfly decals up, watching more series on Hulu and Netflix (I’ve now learned all I could from Call The Midwife on Netflix) and rested (even though I still feel exhausted).  Mum got here last night which is wonderful, and I know that even if Munchie doesn’t feel like coming out just yet, she will have to by Tuesday or Wednesday at the latest. It’s pretty amazing to me that between me, my siblings, and now my daughter, we were (will be) all born between the last days of March and the first days of May. Spring babies! And all late too!

The next post may not be for a while… And it may just be random words forming somewhat of a sentence surrounded by photos. Let’s see how tired I really am going to get!

Ramblings: 38 Weeks and Still Growing...

It’s hard to accept the fact that you are allowed to be tired, that you are allowed to actually not really do anything all day except for watch that TV series that everyone has been telling you to watch for the past year. It’s hard for me, because most of the times in my life when I feel this tired it’s entirely my fault (out partying, up all night writing, stress-related insomnia), so I am so used to pushing myself through it that I feel guilty just letting go and just being tired.

Yesterday I woke up at 3am and couldn’t get back to sleep again for a lot of different reasons. I had to be up at 6am anyway due to an early doctor’s appointment. So I waddled my 38 week pregnant belly to the subway and went to the clinic in Fort Greene to get everything checked up. I guess I am now the one nearest her due date so everyone is very excited for me (they actually were all a lot more excited than I was, it took me enough energy to muster the courage to keep my eyes open during the appointment). I could give birth any day! I waddled back to the subway in the gorgeous sunshine, trying not to burst into tears until I got home.

And then I did what I have never done before, I asked my boss if she had anything important for me to do, because if not I was just going to rest. And guess what?! She told me to rest! Yes, Jade… There IS a reason you are working from home now, and this is because you are supposed to be resting! So for 10 minutes I tried to work, but numbers and words kept flying in front of my face and I couldn’t do anything correctly so I grabbed a cup of tea and went to the couch. Where I stayed until just after 8pm. And from the couch I graduated to the bed, and fell asleep, sleeping about 12 hours of interrupted sleep until this morning. You can’t be too demanding – there is no way on earth I can sleep more than 2 or 3 hours without having to get up. Bathroom trips, water drinking breaks and of course, a cheesecake eating break at 3am when C. got home. I still feel tired today, but more able to function. I think this is the new golden rule… No fighting the fatigue or the sleep: naps and bed whenever my body wants it.

So now the waiting game has begun. Any day now little Munchie could decide that she wants this to be her birthday and she will start making that journey towards daylight. While I would like her to wait until her due date of April 1^st, I have now accepted the fact that she might want to come early, or that she might want to come late too. And that’s absolutely fine. I think I am ready to cope. Everything is pretty much ready (apart from all of her little baby clothes need to go to the laundry and I don’t know why we are procrastinating about that); she has a bed and a bouncy chair thing and blankets and clothes for every occasion and diapers and wipes and even heart-shaped sunglasses to match her mummy. She also has a hopefully endless supply of food that my body will provide for her (the alternative is not an option right now, so I really, really hope everything will work properly). And, so important, she has so much love waiting for her here, all that love that we hope we have projected into my womb over the past 9 months, and much, much more. So many people are waiting for her arrival and to finally meet her. Not the least her parents of course!

To be honest I think I have had a wonderful pregnancy, and I have been very lucky that up until a few weeks ago I really didn’t feel uncomfortable or too heavy. I’m not super huge, my weight gain stabilized in the third trimester (so much that I have actually lost a few pounds even though Munchie has gained quite a few); I’ve had a few aches and pains but nothing major. My feet only started swelling this week, after I started to work from home (so now I need to go for little walks every few hours so as not to sit at the table all day without really moving). I just recently had to develop an elaborate roll to get out of bed and that can only be done in at least 3 steps, and I don’t remember what it was like to jump out of bed in a spritely manner! Actually, I don’t remember what “normal” feels like anymore. What actually WAS “normal”?? I don’t really think I care, because that “normal” has gone, and will be replaced by another “normal”, one that I am more than ready to embrace. My main issue other than not being able to walk fast anymore (and I mean SLOW), is a burning pain I began to feel last month at the top of my belly on one side, that has now graduated towards the other side too. I realised that it’s basically from the skin stretching so much, but it wasn’t until I did some research on the web last night and read people describing it as just like a sunburn, without the redness (and without the sun, because that big golden orb has been on another planet for the past 3 months). Aloe Vera! Luckily I always have a big bottle of aloe in the cupboard as I spend enough time on the beach in the summer, and it really helps relive the soreness! Better than any other lotion that I have already tried. Who would have known that all you really need (outside of a good doctor or midwife) is a large bottle of aloe, a large bottle of Tums, a comfy body pillow and a healthy diet to get through these 9 (I mean 10) months? And yes, my iron level is STILL normal, even though I was anemic as a teen and I am a vegetarian. I guess I did something right by listening to my body. 

And I will continue listening to my body after Munchie is born. I’m not too worried about losing the extra weight immediately – it will happen naturally. My body has never been one to put on weight too fast, and if I make sure I get enough exercise I will be fine. I’m honestly looking forward to evening runs in Flushing, and using them to discover new places to go and new parks to take Munchie to in the summer.

Oh summer… I am looking forward to you. Showing my little daughter all of the things that I love about life: sunsets on the beach, waves, walking barefoot in the sand, listening to The Cure while dancing in the living room (not just for summer of course), and reading on a warm park bench under the trees… So much to be excited about!!! In the meantime I will continue to wait at home, not feel guilty about resting anymore, and watch as our cat follows me everywhere I go, just so that he knows that I am OK. Maybe the next post will be one with newborn pictures, or maybe it won’t – now that I am at home I have a little more time and energy to devote to catching up on writing. I say “a little” because a lot of that energy is put into making sure I am happy with how our apartment is set up. And catching up on TV shows. And thinking about making food, and then ordering salads from the delicious diner down the street.

That said, does anyone know where there is a regular supermarket in Flushing? One that isn’t Chinese and that sells an array of Western goods? I was so excited that we had a supermarket within walking distance, but it really doesn’t have a good selection of non-Chinese goods, and I need a little more for my palate!

(On a side note we are EXTREMELY grateful to everyone who has helped us out and given us gifts over the past few months. This alone deserves its own blog post and everyone will receive their own personal thanks, I promise, I am just a little slow at getting round to doing things these days. Without you all we would be having a much harder time getting through this, and the amount of love that we feel around us is extraordinary!). <3>