Warning! Baby Myth Busting Blogger At Work;-/...

I just had to ring Andy because I knew there was a particular subject that I wanted to cover in my next entry and I couldn't for the LIFE of me remember what the Dickens it was.

I have been racking my brain for DAYS! Then it finally came to me while we were brain storming on the phone and remembering it demonstrated a brilliant kind of irony: it was BABY BRAIN I wanted to discuss. Pregnesia, whatever you want to call it and I have been suffering with it. CATASTROPHICALLY.

I'm usually one of the most organised and together people you could know. Birthday cards are written and mailed and arrive ON birthdays, the flat is organised, washing done, loo roll caddy full. But Cawood standards are slipping and when I do something utterly and uncharacteristically rubbish, everyone just says, "don't worry Honey! That's just Baby Brain!" It's a brilliant excuse;).

So far, in the last 2 weeks these are some of the things I've done:

1).Turned up to the WRONG building to meet my friend for lunch last week. There are 2 Northern & Shell buildings in London:-/. Subsequently, No Lunch. This was after a 4.30am start doing a stint on Sky Sunrise with Eamonn Holmes: I could have had a bloody nap instead of spending 3 hours navigating my way around the bleedin' DLR...

2). Left the house with a niggling feeling that something was missing but carried on regardless only to go to pay for groceries and discover that my purse was still at home: this has happened TWICE in 2 weeks:((((.

3). More or less accuse my LOVELY dry cleaner Andrew that they'd lost a coat I'd taken in only to discover it hanging, freshly drycleaned, in my wardrobe when I got home. I have ZERO recollection of collecting said coat:-/

4). Then last night, I called Andy on what I thought was his mobile phone only to have a very odd exchange with a man I thought was Andy putting on a strange voice to trick me. It transpires I had called his work number and told the nice (heavily accented) security man at Unkle Post Production to "stop putting on a silly voice". To which he replied (quite reasonably under the circumstances) that he wasn't "putting on a silly voice, this is how I talk". I hung up on the poor bugger, utterly confounded, until I realised that Andy's work number is stored with his mobile number in my iPhone and they're both under "Rabbit" (don't laugh: my nickname for him is Bunny Rabbit:(. We all have our crosses to bear: that's Andy's). Not one of my finest moments:(.

So after all these instances of utter shiteness I decided to find out if the baby brain phenomenon actually exists or if it is a figment of our pregnant imaginations....

First stop. Twitter. Obvs. Well, according to you lot it most definitely exists. And it gets worse with the amount of sproglets that arrive.

Next stop. The BBC website. Where I found this. Ladies, it would appear that we are all making excuses for just being absent minded:(.

So if the baby brain theory really is just a myth then why do women who are Up The Stick get like this? Well there are a few theories, all of them far more boring than blaming it on the bump. Basically, "they" say that it's because we are all so much more preoccupied with what's going on inside of us and have a lot more on our minds than we would usually have what with impending motherhood looming large. I wrestled with whether or not to share the article I found online lest we all lose our one decent excuse to F*** Things Up but ladies, it's time to (wo)man up, stop being crap and start making lists. I'm sorry to be the snitch that puts it out there but it's only a matter of time before the baby is being blamed for everything from bad moods to smelly farts so I'm just saying we should cut the little buggers some slack while they're still inside our wombs, oui?

Anyway, I must away to check that I haven't out anything interesting in the refrigerator recently...,

Ciao Bellas!!

*Boyfriend Footnote*

The dust has settled on 'Boots-Gate' and we're both left waiting for our 20 week scan to come around. We're a little shy of 18 weeks and have had no confirmation/information for 6 weeks. Weird that a living thing doesn't quite exist in reality apart from being a convex tummy. It was a real fright when Sarah took her trip head first down a set of stairs and turned up at my workplace in tears. However, thanks to a few comments from you the considerate and educated reader and other friends that heard what happened the nerves soon settled. Apparently it would have to be a fair whack to the belly for any major issues (I heard car crash mentioned) so Sarah receiving a scratch to her shin, be it a nasty looking one, probably had no effect on Mini Merry. I knew I was getting a drama queen when I met Sarah but it's best to be safe, not sorry. :-)

I cannot wait for the 20 week thing. When I was a kid the week before my birthdays were spent scouring the house, searching my parents wardrobes, draws and pathetic hiding places for my presents. I even showed a splendid neon green skate board at the back of their wardrobe to my friend who then went straight to my parents to tell them what I'd done. This is similar (apart from I'm hoping the baby isn't green and my folks don't tell me off when I tell a friend... Or two) I don't care for surprises, I want to know what flavour our sprog is! 

I've been told time and time again that the surprise is great and makes the whole experience of birth exciting and worthwhile. To this I say 'Sod off!'. It's going to be a massive shock and surprise anyway. Besides, my emotions can be starved of that little bit of 'excitement' during such a stressful period.

Besides Sarah and I can cut our baby names row by 50% if we know the sex. We can get down to serious decisions - like whether a girl can be called Carlotta if we don't have a little Carlos. 

That I suppose is a whole other can of worms: baby names. 

We'll soon be off to buy a baby name book or we could just work out where the baby was conceived or what's in the fruit bowl (That's how you pick a child's name right?) 

See you for now! 

Andy (FYI: my name means 'Manly' - hopefully our baby's name will be more apt - like Sarah! Definition: Princess!) 

A Thank you Note.

I am a little bit embarrassed today. And I am also fine. I'm a little bit bruised and achey but nothing catastrophic. Andy came home last night after speaking to a near hysterical me, having decided against playing his Tuesday night football game. He got home to a considerably calmer girlfriend than the one he'd spoken on the phone to before he left work. But I was still worried about whether the Tiny Guest was alive and kicking in there or not. So he got the Doppler out and managed to find the little galloping horse sound that signified that our future offspring was seemingly fine. Then he confiscated the Doppler. Which is fine. Cos neither of us can handle my panic levels if the same thing happens again:-/.

I now feel a bit ashamed and neurotic. What is this pregnancy DOING to me?? I'm usually quite a calm, rational human being but I seem to have turned into a nervous, neurotic, hormonal mess in 4 short months. I've been thinking about why that is and I think it's this:

WE JUST DON'T KNOW WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON IN THERE!!

And it's infuriating.

But there's nothing I can do except stay away from dopplers and the Internet, give up the high heels until after April, eat well, get plenty of rest and chill the f*** out.

I will try. I promise.....

I also understand the pragmatic if somewhat unsympathetic approach adopted by the medical profession: ultimately, if something were to happen at this stage of the journey, there would be very little they would be able to do:(. The baby won't be viable until after 24 weeks and it's only after that landmark passes that the Tiny Guest becomes a Tiny Person, able to exist outside my womb and ultimately, saveable. I get it, I honestly do, but telling a panic stricken woman that her pregnancy is still in its infancy after 4 months is perhaps a little tactless;(....

When I rang my midwife yesterday I really felt like I was bothering her...:(. What are the guidelines for calling them? What is deemed a valid reason? I'm confused about her role in all of this. It feels like she and her team are very much peripheral figures. To be honest, if I had concerns or another fall, I'd feel happier going to casualty...:-/. Btw, I'd love to consider getting a private midwife but I'm afraid present fiscal circumstances prevent that so I will have to bimble along with my understaffed, overworked and underpaid NHS team for the time being.

Anyway, I guess what this whole post is saying really is sorry I overreacted, sorry Andy missed his football game because I'm a neurotic mess and thank you to everyone here and on twitter who allayed my fears. It HONESTLY really helped:-). Thank you.

Sx

Big fall. Big fail.

I fell down some stairs today:-/. In Boots on Oxford St... I'm amazed I didn't break a leg but I escaped with cuts and bruises. I saved myself from falling on my tummy as far as I can remember but it was a BIG fall and I feel panic stricken nonetheless. Can a big jolt hurt a foetus?

I am trying to find out how I can get seen to check that the Tiny Guest is OK and I'm being fobbed off. They're saying it's still early in my pregnancy and I have to go to A&E. I'm 16 FUCKING weeks. 4 FUCKING months. That's nearly halfway. (please excuse the language but I am upset, and I am FURIOUS)

If I go to A&E after hours, which it will be by the time I get there on the bus, all the sonographers will have buggered off home and I'll be left with the same predicament that I had when I had the miscarriage. I am scared, angry and upset. I have a sprained ankle, a bruised and cut up shin and (against my better judgement) I tried to find a heartbeat using a doppler that a friend has lent us and I could find nothing, not a pin drop:(.

I've had assurances from my friends and family that the Tiny Guest is more resilient than we think and probably just thought I had taken him/her on it's first rollarcoaster ride. I hope that's true.

What has frustrated and upset me about trying to gather some assurances from the professionals is the ease with which one is passed from pillar to bloody post. My experiences so far of NHS maternity care have been nothing but positive but today I feel let down and concerned. I've been reading far too much about our understaffed and underfunded midwives: 75% of NHS compensation pay outs are as a result of incidents that happened to women giving birth. That's a frightening statistic anyway but to a pregnant woman in the NHS system, its positively terrifying.

I'm still bristling that apparently my 16 week old pregnancy is so inconsequential that I'm not even looked after by my midwifery team outside of the check ups I have booked in.

Too many patients, not enough time, not enough money. NOT. GOOD. ENOUGH.

So I will spend the next few days quietly stressing myself half to death which is no good for any of us.

I wish I could feel the little bugger start moving so I know that it's OK:(.

*Boyfriend Footnote*

Now that the bump is protruding as Sarah delightedly announced, this marks a bigger milestone than you probably realise and the relief is palpable. I hope this draws a line under the stage in pregnancy where Sarah spends large amounts of oxygen complaining about being fat (I am however a realist and realise it probably won't). Despite me telling her that the expanding waist line may have something to do with a growing child she still insisted on worrying that she was over eating and becoming rotund. Now it 'has popped out' it's a lot more real and a lot less trapped wind and pie in Sarah's mind. I on the other hand notice no difference - Don't tell her that though ;-)

Sarah’s apparent change in shape is still to be celebrated. I’ve mulled it over and feel myself maturing as my child matures. You grow up quick when you’re growing a baby. Ok so I’m not growing it but you know what I mean. It’s like my brain has been replaced from the carefree, financially irresponsible boy into a semi responsible, wise and thoughtful old codger. This, I have to say, I am relishing and enjoying immensely. I’m probably bored with acting like a child and am excited to watch a proper child act their age! Besides I’ve always dreamed of a day when I can be a miserable old git and have an excuse, the only excuse: Being an old git.

However one of the manifestations of this is that I have increasingly been thinking of the financial implications of having a small sprog in your life. Sarah assures me that a tiny baby cost little – Breast milk (If we’re lucky enough to succeed in this field) is free, clothes are cheap as well as us having plenty of family and friends able to hand stuff down. However, in the same breath Sarah also talks about a buggy she ‘NEEDS’ to get which is £850, a cot that matches the furniture in the spare room, special overpriced car seats as well as all the other ridiculous and pompous paraphernalia that goes with having a baby in an over the top middle class area. These are a mile away from the wicker basket, football kit (Essential for whatever sex the baby is) and rattle I envisaged. (Yes we are having a 1940’s baby!)

With life as freelancers not being particularly financially stable I’ve already set out to pick up all the work I can and start to put money aside. It isn’t, after all, the early stuff I worry about, it’s all the things I think my folks gave me: after school club fees, enough toys to drown Pixar, my first car, University fees and clothes up to the age of 18 and all with holes in the knees.

Sarah does have a sewing machine now and she is going to get knitting lessons from her friend so problem solved. She can make all the clothes and fix accordingly. We’ll be that family walking around like Christmas has thrown up over our woolly jumpers or look like we’ve shared the same tailor as Edward Scissorhands.

I’m going to pull Sarah away from the mirror, where she’s admiring her new tummy and get her on the sewing machine right now.

 With fashion fear,

 Andy x

Things That Go "BUMP" In The Night.

The bump has popped out! The Tiny Guest is not so tiny anymore!!!

And about sodding time I say: I've been waiting 4 months for this and I'm very excited. However, it does pose a few dilemmas. I have now grown out of pretty much everything in my wardrobe but I'm still a bit too small to get into proper maternity clothes. Today I'm wearing some leggings but I've had to put them underneath the bulging tummy then cover up with the smockiest frock I have in my wardrobe. I've got a feeling I'm going to get a bit bored of this dress;(.

When I got dressed this morning, I tried on a couple of long, tight jumpers but really, I looked like I was suffering a particularly bad bout of trapped wind in those so I will have to wait until there is NO DOUBT there is a baby in there before I go down the body con route. If indeed, I do at all. Where do we stand on maternity fashion girls?

Things have changed massively in a couple of decades and we've gone from this:

To This:

To This:

In a relatively short space of time.

I have to remember that I am not a young MILF but I also don't want to don a mumu or I'll look like a weeble (I'll wobble, but I won't fall down;)). Yes, there is a happy medium between the 2 and I need to find it. Topshop maternity looks like a good bet and I shall be heading to M&S for the basics (already a trusty friend in the scanties department: it's where I ended up getting measured and getting some 34DD (!) bras last week. Comfort. FINALLY). I'm also going to head to Dorothy Perkins because they're so damn friendly in there! And I've already got my eye on some stripey tops over some skinny jeans from New Look. Blimey! I better start saving.

It feels very odd to be losing such massive swathes of my wardrobe in such a small space of time and I'm really hoping that one day I will be able to reclaim all the lovely stuff that I now gaze longingly at before a night out. Matt Upstairs said to me the other day: "so you've probably said goodbye to the thinnest version of you forever now haven't you?"

Aaaggghhhhh! I bloody hope not, I've got a sodding wedding dress to get into next December and I'm damned if I'm going to spend the rest of my life looking at photos of myself looking like the aforementioned weeble in a posh frock. Hell to the No.

I guess that he's partly right. We wave goodbye to the best versions of ourselves in our mid 30s and that's without figuring in the ravages of child bearing on our bodies! But I have to say, most of my mummy friends are looking pretty good having popped out a couple of the little blighters and in the short term, I can't think of a better reason to get the Tiny Guest onto my breast: apparently, breast feeding burns approximately 500 calories a day! My friend Carrie said she could literally feel her womb contracting with each baby suck. Wow! Isn't nature clever?

So,yes, the bump has arrived. The sickness is all but gone (though I confess I just had a moment of quease and had to neck a packet of Worcester sauce flavour French Fries. They saw off that nauseous bad boy;))

It literally arrived overnight. When I woke up this morning I noticed that my tummy had taken on an altogether more firm feel and there's no way I can hold it in now. Anyway, I got Suzie Upstairs to take pictorial evidence for you to enjoy! Please excuse my unmade up face and hair but I'm having a "home day" so mascara can do one, frankly!

So, I must away to spend some time on the non baby blog. You can see what else I've been up to (if you're interested!) here. It's mainly birthday cake baking and wedding show nonsense. Enjoy. We hope you like the new look here too. Andy said he thought it looked a bit naff before. I think it looks ace now and we will endeavour to out some pics and links and bits and pieces on it too, to make it EVEN MORE FABULOUS!

Have a wonderful weekend everyone! Mwah:-)

Sx

*Boyfriend Footnote*

It appears, as Sarah stated, that we can almost see the light at the end of the tunnel with regards to 'morning sickness.' Before a day or two ago most conversations in our house when I got home tended to no longer start with your traditional ‘Hello Darling. How was your day? Smashing weather we’re having.’ (Yes we were like the Brady Bunch) but instead ‘I feel sick’.

I think a man has only one way of dealing with these situations. (1.) Do what ever you need to do to make the feeling stop. (2.) Stop doing whatever is making you feel ill.

Straight forward, no complaints, sorted! However, neither seem to apply when there is no apparent logic or simple explanation - apart from uncontrollable hormones.

I have learnt some valuable lessons on this journey about sickness and women. Mainly not to sigh or tut when a lady is expressing her pregnancy issues. It's not helpful or supportive apparently.

When it came to Sarah's gagging gripes, our first theory was that hunger made Sarah sick. So we ate and then having over-eaten she felt sick. The next theory was tiredness made her feel sick but I guess it’s difficult sleeping when you feel like you might throw up. Cars don’t help either – Sarah can no longer be a passenger so I am now resigned to twiddling the knobs of the radio to what I want to listen to (Every cloud!) and fidget because a man over 6 foot shouldn’t be allowed in a mini.

I hope we have seen the back of the sickness but I feel it may keep raising it's ugly head. My favourite comment is wearing thin - I suppose repeating 'But it's a good sickness - you're carrying our baby' does make my face even more punchable than usual. So whilst the sickness continues I'll try my hardest to listen intently, paint on my sympathetic mask, smile pathetically or change the conversation… Nice weather we're having!

On other news - starting to get excited now. I just only hope in 5 and half months time this doesn't happen (Stick with the clip - TV Gold at the end!) :

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TufUH1T-F18


Yours,


Alien Sperm Donor Andy

Baby On Board?

I'm starting to feel a bit more human:-). That nasty hungover feeling still pops up every now and then but the gaps between episodes are getting longer. This is a relief:).

Now the thing I'm most looking forward to, nay, can't wait for, is to start showing! I'm packing on the weight (just weighed myself this morning and I'm 8st 5lb: aaarrrgghhh! Don't forget I'm only 5'1":-/) and people have started to pat the old tummy and when they do I'm so embarrassed because there's no baby bump there yet, just a food baby that I've been carefully growing for the last few months on a steady diet of comfort foods and haribo....

When will my little bump pop out? I can't get into any of my  old stuff anymore and it's pointless buying any new normal clothes right now so I'd really like an excuse to go maternity clothes shopping and remove that niggling doubt amongst fellow tube travellers about whether I might be up the duff or just a bit of a heifer. I keep getting excited when I wake up in the night and can feel a roundness in my belly, then I realise with a heavy heart, that it's just a full bladder or wind;(

This is just another one of those limbo stages of pregnancy, like the first 12 weeks before you can go public with the news. In fact the whole of the beginning chunk is one big waiting game really. The really good stuff is all 16 weeks onwards innit? The belly popping out, feeling better, starting to bloom, finding out what you're having, feeling the little bugger move around, everybody else feeling the little bugger moving around. This bit I'm currently in the middle of is BORING.

I saw a girl on the tube the other day who had one of those "Baby On Board" badges on. She was a bigger girl and I couldn't really see a baby bump (oh blimey, I hope that doesn't sound too bitchy, just trying to explain the situation;)) and it got me wondering whether or not I should get one and what they're really saying. I guess if you're carrying more than just baby weight then it removes that niggling doubt from the minds of commuters who might be worried about offending a more curvaceous lady but personally, I think it kind of silently screams "I'm growing a person, it's bloody hard work, give me a bloody seat!". My argument to that would be, yes, it IS knackering growing a baby but that carriage load of commuters are all utterly knackered too. Some of them may have been up all night with snotty, teething, grizzling babies, some of them may have been up all night working on tomorrow's presentation, and some of them may have been up all night drinking jagerbombs and dancing on tables (those commuters can stand ALL THE WAY for all I care, how DARE they be having that much fun when I'm not??!).

I guess what I'm trying to say is that we are all really tired. Modern life is draining in so many different ways and I'm not sure how comfortable I am playing the pregnancy card and saying "Give Me A Bloody Seat!". I'm sure I will feel VERY differently about this when I am hoofing an extra 2 stone around with me in 5 or so months but for now I have decided that the "Baby On Board" badge is not for me. So if you do happen to see me on the Piccadilly line in the next few months, let me remove all doubt for you now: it's definitely a baby bump and not a Krispy Kreme one (although there's no denying that Krispy Kremes have definitely played a part).

Now just before I bugger off and get to the pile of admin and email inbox that needs urgent Cawood attention, I have a question to ask: WHERE can I get matching non underwired underwear? Since I was old enough to fit into a bra (when I was about 17: they took their time arriving but when they did, they did in style!) I have worn matching sets of underwear. It's something that Mama Cawood has passed on to her 2 girls and whilst I can't speak for my sister, personally, my day feels sort of "off" if my bra and knickers don't match.

I've looked on all the usual websites: Mamas and Papas and Mothercare but what I really want to do, is go into a shop and find a pretty bra in my size then look underneath the row of bras and find the matching pants in my size too. This is how my usual underwear buying expedition will play out. Nice, easy, convenient and satisfying. I do not want to find a bra that fits then spend hours traipsing around looking for knickers that sort of match in the 3 for 2 section. How hard can this be retailers????

This morning I took my dilemma to Twitter and one brilliant tweeter said she just removes the underwires from her normal underwired bras. Genius! Another tweet said that provided you get measured properly, you can still wear underwires so I'm currently thinking that's the route I may take. Mama Cawood is coming to visit on Thursday so we are heading to the underwear Mecca that is M&S at Marble Arch and the Mamas and Papas flagship store at Oxford Circus. Andy has told me he will treat me to a couple of sets so I WILL FIND SOME NEW UNDERCRACKERS IF IT BLOODY KILLS ME...

I'll let you know how I get on;).

Sxxx