Why 'Maternal Instinct' is bollox
I had a sure feeling this baby was going to be early. So sure, I rang my mum and asked her to come up a whole 10 days earlier to look after Patrick whilst I was 'laying in'.
I'm now 39+4 and nothing is happening. Patrick was born at 39+4 (I went into labour at 39+3). I have been trying raspberry tea, jumping up and down, making appointments, organising things to do for the next few days, swimming lots... and nothing is working. (Having a husband on night shift and my own mum in the house makes the other 'bring on labour' strategy a bit difficult). I have made new bed sheets for Patrick, knitted him a hoodie, commenced work on two zip bags to store pram spare tyres in (our Phil and Teds had three flat tyres in two days- the tube was faulty, but there's nothing like trying to push a stroller on the rims when you've got a struggling toddler in there and you're very pregnant), lined up a menu for what to cook for the next week, and made truffles.
And still nothing.
Well, I have had three nights now where I have been woken up with strong pelvic cramps that were semi-regular, but they all went away in half an hour or so. I was particularly disappointed that 9/4/9 went by with no action (that's 4/9/9 for you in the US of A): both me and MrT have kind of palindromic birthdates- mine is like 27/2/72 (it's not, it's something like it, but) and MrT is something like 23/3/73 so I was kinda hoping 9/4/9 was to be it: that was actually one of the days I was woken up with the pain so I was all keen to go.
So, bollox to that. That and the fact that I had assumed that my mum was a far better mother than me, and since she's been here, I've noted we have remarkably similar parenting styles. Spookily, in fact. That's shouldn't surprise me- we are, after all, scarily similar. At Easter Mass this morning (mum dragged me along- gave me the catholic guilts) we both mispronounced the same word in a hymn to amuse ourselves (I can't remember exactly what it was, but like in 'Hark the Herald Angels Sing' "...Late in time behold him come, Offspring of a virgin's wumb...") and we both giggled like schoolgirls. So much for me being inadequete!
Now: baby news and photos-
The baby is sitting very low: my tummy is poking straight out the front, and my belly button is almost popping- about as popped as a fat girl can hope for :)
So here's some belly shots- this is what I see when I try to look at the floor when sitting down. Note absence of feet!
From the side
I feel like one of those old cats that have that "flap"-like belly that swings from side to side as they run: like feline tuckshop lady arms. I have absolutely no doubt that post-delivery this tummy will hang straight down, and I'll not only be able to hold a pencil under there but the whole crayola caddy.
Having the time of his life at the regional agricultural show, where he also wanted to hold a snake:
He looks awkward, but he was just holding absolutely still. As soon as the man took the snake off he said "More?"
Eating birthday cake. Umm nummm.
Bucket head. MrT also has a bucket on his head, but as per his request, I can't show his face on the interblags. They were running around the house together. It was v cute.
Now, I'm pretty sure I'm breaking several laws for this, but, man, is he too cute?
In the bath:
At the dog excercise beach
He did start of fully clothed, but the shoes came off first (fair enough, too) then his hoodie (it was warm), then he wandered into the water and his pants got wet- so off they came, fair enough as well, then he decided he didn't want his nappy on so he ripped it off, and finally, he fell into the water and his t-shirt got soaked. I got several tut-tuts from a few old ladies, but, seriously, he's two. And adorable.
Finally, a little video.
The background to this is that MrT has been working in Intensive Care again, and occasionally does 'retrieval' shifts. A medical retrieval is where a team (well, a doctor and nurse and a whole crapload of equipment) get dispatched from our ICU to a smaller, regional hospital to bring back a critically unwell patient who needs ICU or tertiary level care. For example, if you have a cardiac arrest in, let's say, Boggabri, you'll end up sedated and ventilated in a larger, metroploitan hospital's ICU because Boggabri simply hasn't got the equipment, staff or expertise. If it's close enough, they go by ambulance (up to about an hour away), but often go by helicopter, and rarely, by air ambulance.
Now, travelling in a helicopter to rescue really unwell people sounds glamorous, but it's really not. The chopper is hot, noisy and smelly, not to mention cramped, and if your patient starts vomiting, you can bet everyone else on board will, too. But Patrick LOVES helicopters, so I convinced MrT to get some footage on his phone the next time he went out. And here is Patrick after not being allowed to touch daddy's phone (what is it with men and their phones?):
don't you just love the pouty lip? He gets that off me, and I know why my mum used to tell me "you'll trip over that lip if you're not careful" and laugh.
The weirdest thing is, though, that he now loves that video and demands to see "sad baby, sad baby!" all the time. And laughs at himself
Finally, he loves to see himself on camera, especially when it is associated with me making an ass of myself, because he can see me on the screen on the other side of the camera.
Right-oh, gotta go swimming and hopefully the next you'll hear is that Avagadro is here!
I'm now 39+4 and nothing is happening. Patrick was born at 39+4 (I went into labour at 39+3). I have been trying raspberry tea, jumping up and down, making appointments, organising things to do for the next few days, swimming lots... and nothing is working. (Having a husband on night shift and my own mum in the house makes the other 'bring on labour' strategy a bit difficult). I have made new bed sheets for Patrick, knitted him a hoodie, commenced work on two zip bags to store pram spare tyres in (our Phil and Teds had three flat tyres in two days- the tube was faulty, but there's nothing like trying to push a stroller on the rims when you've got a struggling toddler in there and you're very pregnant), lined up a menu for what to cook for the next week, and made truffles.
And still nothing.
Well, I have had three nights now where I have been woken up with strong pelvic cramps that were semi-regular, but they all went away in half an hour or so. I was particularly disappointed that 9/4/9 went by with no action (that's 4/9/9 for you in the US of A): both me and MrT have kind of palindromic birthdates- mine is like 27/2/72 (it's not, it's something like it, but) and MrT is something like 23/3/73 so I was kinda hoping 9/4/9 was to be it: that was actually one of the days I was woken up with the pain so I was all keen to go.
So, bollox to that. That and the fact that I had assumed that my mum was a far better mother than me, and since she's been here, I've noted we have remarkably similar parenting styles. Spookily, in fact. That's shouldn't surprise me- we are, after all, scarily similar. At Easter Mass this morning (mum dragged me along- gave me the catholic guilts) we both mispronounced the same word in a hymn to amuse ourselves (I can't remember exactly what it was, but like in 'Hark the Herald Angels Sing' "...Late in time behold him come, Offspring of a virgin's wumb...") and we both giggled like schoolgirls. So much for me being inadequete!
Now: baby news and photos-
The baby is sitting very low: my tummy is poking straight out the front, and my belly button is almost popping- about as popped as a fat girl can hope for :)
So here's some belly shots- this is what I see when I try to look at the floor when sitting down. Note absence of feet!
From the side
I feel like one of those old cats that have that "flap"-like belly that swings from side to side as they run: like feline tuckshop lady arms. I have absolutely no doubt that post-delivery this tummy will hang straight down, and I'll not only be able to hold a pencil under there but the whole crayola caddy.
Having the time of his life at the regional agricultural show, where he also wanted to hold a snake:
He looks awkward, but he was just holding absolutely still. As soon as the man took the snake off he said "More?"
Eating birthday cake. Umm nummm.
Bucket head. MrT also has a bucket on his head, but as per his request, I can't show his face on the interblags. They were running around the house together. It was v cute.Now, I'm pretty sure I'm breaking several laws for this, but, man, is he too cute?
In the bath:
At the dog excercise beach
He did start of fully clothed, but the shoes came off first (fair enough, too) then his hoodie (it was warm), then he wandered into the water and his pants got wet- so off they came, fair enough as well, then he decided he didn't want his nappy on so he ripped it off, and finally, he fell into the water and his t-shirt got soaked. I got several tut-tuts from a few old ladies, but, seriously, he's two. And adorable.
Finally, a little video.
The background to this is that MrT has been working in Intensive Care again, and occasionally does 'retrieval' shifts. A medical retrieval is where a team (well, a doctor and nurse and a whole crapload of equipment) get dispatched from our ICU to a smaller, regional hospital to bring back a critically unwell patient who needs ICU or tertiary level care. For example, if you have a cardiac arrest in, let's say, Boggabri, you'll end up sedated and ventilated in a larger, metroploitan hospital's ICU because Boggabri simply hasn't got the equipment, staff or expertise. If it's close enough, they go by ambulance (up to about an hour away), but often go by helicopter, and rarely, by air ambulance.
Now, travelling in a helicopter to rescue really unwell people sounds glamorous, but it's really not. The chopper is hot, noisy and smelly, not to mention cramped, and if your patient starts vomiting, you can bet everyone else on board will, too. But Patrick LOVES helicopters, so I convinced MrT to get some footage on his phone the next time he went out. And here is Patrick after not being allowed to touch daddy's phone (what is it with men and their phones?):
don't you just love the pouty lip? He gets that off me, and I know why my mum used to tell me "you'll trip over that lip if you're not careful" and laugh.
The weirdest thing is, though, that he now loves that video and demands to see "sad baby, sad baby!" all the time. And laughs at himself
Finally, he loves to see himself on camera, especially when it is associated with me making an ass of myself, because he can see me on the screen on the other side of the camera.
Right-oh, gotta go swimming and hopefully the next you'll hear is that Avagadro is here!
posted by jen at 8:11 PM
2 Comments:
Nice long, updated post. Patrick is sooo cute! Love his greenish-blue eyes! I can totally see Teo loving a video of him being sad and watching it over and over again. I also liked his little gleeful noise when he got the phone back from MrT. I'm impressed with his snake skills too!
I did all those things you're doing now to try and get Teo to come out (this week 2 years ago!). Teo was 40+5. Maybe Avagadro is just waiting to be born on Teo's birthday.
patrick is adorable, as always! love the snake photo. the twinkle loved touching a snake (i wouldn't have been brave enough to let her hold it. they are my ultimate fear.) and she still talks about it - in her special non-talking way (ie she says "nake" then she points in the sky to indicate she saw one somewhere else, then she points to herself repeatedly.)
hang in there.
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