Doula-tastic!

We think we might try and find a doula for the birth of babe number two. It suddenly occurred to me the other day when N was expressing some anxiety about how things would go this time given our C-section shenanigans first time round.

The more I think about it, the more sensible an idea it seems to be. N would feel much more supported, we'd have someone to 'advocate' for us in case things start getting complicated and she'd be there the entire time. Whilst the midwives are great, they do bugger off for long periods of time leaving poor husband to grapple with a woman in labour - no easy task!

Lord knows how much it'll cost, but if we can find the right person we'll go for it. Bit late in the day perhaps, but fingers crossed!

I'm going to take a blog holiday from tomorrow - my 33rd (yes, I know, you thought I was older!) birthday. I'm actually childishly excited this year as I have a tantalising - if small - pile of presents on top of our wardrobe, a husband off work, a gorgeous son to give me cuddles and no work to do! We might even push the old boat out and go for lunch in posh Clifton... gosh, what a treat.

Anyway, have a wonderful festive season wherever - and whoever - you are. I'll be back in blogland after the New Year (although I may sneak a post in between Christmas and New Year exhaustion from guests permitting).

Big love to everyone. xx

Public house extravaganza...

I actually went to a pub last night for the first time in Lord knows how long. It was fun! I'd forgotten that people do this regularly, drink beer, chat and smoke fags. What a marvellous invention. I was accompanied by the lovely Antonia who - if I may be so bold - I think I can now count as a friend (if only a fledgling one). We had a lovely natter and she's offered to take O as and when required for a couple of hours once new babe arrives and I am desperate for kip. How nice is that? So much so that we're going to do a few trial runs in January so O can get used to being at their house without me. Sounds idyllic!

I drank two glasses of red wine. I enjoyed the first, but the second was a little bit gratuitous and not very self-disciplined. I was then told by N that some research he's heard about has found that babes in utero can suffer seizures as a result of alcohol. Thanks for that. A discussion ensued whereby I accused N of making me feel guilty every time I go out (not a regular conversation!). He said that perhaps I was feeling guilty about drinking two glasses and trying to blame him.

Hmm. He may have a point. One part of me thinks that everything in moderation can't be bad and it's not like I drink every night. Another part thinks that, in an ideal world, I shouldn't drink at all in pregnancy. The problem is that I don't have N's self-control when it comes to toxins, especially if they are red and come in a glass or white stick shapes which smell revolting. Sometimes I wish I did have his self-control (and his mother's - she of no over-indulgence whatsoever). But when encountered with it, it just makes me want to drink more, smoke more and eat another fistful of chocolates.

I think I need to accept that I am never going to be able to treat my body like a temple. Sorry body, but there it is. Life is too short and I love food too much. And sorry baby for any upset caused. But I'm still going to have a few snifters over Christmas...

Can I do it?

So, to come back to the C-section phobia thing. I'd be lying if I said it wasn't occupying my thoughts, particularly at night when I have far better things to do like sleep. I suppose it's partly that I can't imagine a birth other than Oliver's and so tales of women puffing and panting for a mere four hours or so seem rather alien.

To my shame, I also feel quite competitive about the whole thing. What if my other pregnant pals manage a VBAC (technical term - the last three letters stand for Birth After Caesarean, so you should be able to guess the V!) and I don't? What if I never get to experience the natural birth thing? Does it matter? I think the answer to that is clearly yes, it does to me anyway.

Lots of people say 'As long as the baby's healthy, it doesn't matter how they arrive'. This is of course true, yet I can't help being a little selfish about it too. It's my body, and I don't want it to be opened up again thanks very much.

Positive thinking has to be the way forward. The stats are all in my favour and the rest is up to me really. Perhaps the dread of another C-section will force me to get the baby out. One thing I do need to clear up with the consultant when I see him in Jan is whether there was any more I could have done to squeeze O out. I seem to have forgotten about the failed ventouse bit and just blamed myself for running out of puff...

Well, only time will tell. Some counselling will no doubt be in order if it's another Caesarean! Perhaps N can give me reduced rate sessions (sounds saucy. Speaking of which, can't think of anything I'd rather not do at the moment!!)

For anyone reading this who hasn't experienced the joys of childbirth (and there are many despite the above), this may all seem very self-absorbed. But I can't apologise. When your belly is as large as mine is getting and you can feel your baby squirming away merrily it is hard to think about much else, despite the presence of a toddler.

Aaaggghhh... ill again!

This time it's my own fault. Three nights on the trot of post-11pm bedtimes... and two of these involved some supping of wine. Not much wine of course, but not being used to it at all it has taken its toll. I now have an extremely sore throat. Hurrah.

But the good news is that O seems to have returned to his normal cheery self. Thank heaven. We're hoping that last week's outbursts were some kind of aberration! Still no new teeth to explain it, but he was pretty poorly and was maybe just a bit naffed off. Fingers crossed.

Spent the weekend with my parents. How weird is this...? My mum was in quite a nasty car crash more than two weeks ago. The first I hear of it is when we arrive at mum and dad's to find that mum has two black eyes. "We didn't want to worry you" was the refrain. I pointed out that surely at 32 years old I can cope with such news, and wouldn't mum have liked to have talked about it at the time? Apparently not. Small wonder I don't confide much in them. It's not exactly a family trait.

But despite this display of typical Jordan weirdness, we had a lovely time. We had a posh meal out where I got to wear the new Boden shoes for the second time in a week (at least I didn't go arse over tit in the restaurant this time which I did last Thursday with Mel's cousin!). Dad videod O til the tape was full and we had lots of cups of tea. Perfect.

This week is going to be dedicated to getting organised for the dreaded Xmas. I hadn't appreciated quite how much there is to think about when you're hosting it yourself! Luckily mum has already raided M&S for the obligatory Christmas pudding, cake and chocs none of which we could be bothered to make ourselves. I've even placed an order for a turkey with the local butcher. Heck. And we received our first Christmas card this weekend which has prompted me to start scribbling! The tree will be purchased this weekend...

I've been thinking lots about childbirth again (hardly surprising given what's happening to my midriff). I'll write more on this separately as I haven't quite got my thoughts in order yet, but suffice to say I do worry about how gutted I will be if I have to have another C-section. Daft I know, but there it is. Need to think on that one some more...