At my wonderfully indulgent ante natal yoga class, everyone sits in a circle and shares their preoccupations of the week, thoughts fears, concerns, whilst massaging one foot after the other! As my moment approaches I always rack my brains, nothing has happened of significance that is worth sharing.
Inevitably when I do start to share, it becomes a list, indigestion, pins and needles in my fingertips = ineffectual hands (I’m surprised they are keeping in check long enough to type this!) and……reduced movement, which is making me concerned. Reduced movement, i assume it’s just because there is less room now that my baby is growing and look to the other mums to be for reassurance. The teacher asks if the movements are more subtle and I nod. Onto the next person, she seems to be concerned about the cost of the private maternity care that she has opted for and bemoans the cost of a cab fare from Islington to Hackney. Ah well, it's all relative!
Later that evening Husband and I, settle down to watch “One Born Every Minute”, set in a maternity ward, we’re treated to a snippet of what we might have instore in 8 weeks or so. It makes for strangely reassuring viewing and as we discuss the reduced movement, we decide a bag of mini caramel eggs will help stir things up a bit. There is still some room for those and our baby approves, responding with slow, sure and strong kicks. Even if rather squashed, he doesn’t seem to have to may concerns or preoccupations of his own yet.
Wednesday, 10 February 2010
Sunday, 10 January 2010
Week 30 - The Juxtaposition
The Juxtaposition.
Moving around is becoming increasingly difficult with a protruding bump,as lovely as it is. Everyday life takes on a new shade, as the most simple of things become that much more difficult, bending down, driving, walking and even sleeping! By the end of a long week at work it feels like I have climbed several mountains and the weekend is more welcome than ever before.
It’s Friday afternoon and the baby is moving constantly and feels at his biggest. He’s really making himself known and the exhaustion is overwhelming. The end of work is in sight – 6 weeks to go before maternity leave starts and I feel a shift in focus happening. I’ve always been someone who is terribly conscientious and focused, on work, however I’m finding that in the later stages of pregnancy my priorities are changing. As the baby kicks inside of me, my boss approaches and fires a few instructions my way, as it the norm. But today this feels wrong for me, I want to be protecting and nurturing this helpless baby inside of me, not obeying orders and asking “how high?” when someone says jump….I’m a Mum.
Moving around is becoming increasingly difficult with a protruding bump,as lovely as it is. Everyday life takes on a new shade, as the most simple of things become that much more difficult, bending down, driving, walking and even sleeping! By the end of a long week at work it feels like I have climbed several mountains and the weekend is more welcome than ever before.
It’s Friday afternoon and the baby is moving constantly and feels at his biggest. He’s really making himself known and the exhaustion is overwhelming. The end of work is in sight – 6 weeks to go before maternity leave starts and I feel a shift in focus happening. I’ve always been someone who is terribly conscientious and focused, on work, however I’m finding that in the later stages of pregnancy my priorities are changing. As the baby kicks inside of me, my boss approaches and fires a few instructions my way, as it the norm. But today this feels wrong for me, I want to be protecting and nurturing this helpless baby inside of me, not obeying orders and asking “how high?” when someone says jump….I’m a Mum.
Monday, 23 November 2009
Week 23 - does the bump know?
Week 23 and another of many check ups dawn at the antenatal clinic. As i stand in line at the hospital a girl with very limited english attempts to assess the liklehood of me having swine flu, via a flow chart. I pass with flying colours and am allowed into the waiting area, without being ushered into quarantine...phew things are going well!
The scales are tipping in the weigh in, 1 stone and 4ibs of weight gained in 23 weeks, that's got to be some sort of record. I imagine my wedding photos from 2 weeks ago, in which my husband, looks leaner than ever. His regimented fitness routine, has stepped up a gear since I have been pregnant, allowing me much more space on our sofa to wallow in reality TV and chocolate.
In the Doctors room I'm greeted by a very nice girl, who looks only marginally older than my six year old niece. Up on the couch we listen to my little boy's hearbeat loud and clear, like the most fabulous high speed train I have ever heard. My niece's playmate proceeds to measure my bump with a tape measure and after several attemps which involve poking my pubic bone, she conceeds that a second opinion is required. I lie in wait, tummy covered in gel and it's not long before Dr G arrives and greets me with "I know you, I made you cry" mmm happy memories of a previous visit, when i was provided with inaccurate information in a most unfortunate manner. "Yes" I laugh! Dr G takes out her tape measure and confirms the bump is 2cm smaller than it should be, but she isn't concerned as everything else appears fine and in anycase, measurements should only be adhered to in this way post 24 weeeks. "You look better, you've put on some weight" Dr G says as she leaves, "you looked better as a distant memory" i think to myself as I smile.
My niece's playmate later assures me there is no real cause for concern as further investigations are only carried out if a bump is 3cm smaller than it should be. It's given me something to worry about until my next visit, but i'm off to find the nearest supermarket, buying biscuits, will help things along!
The scales are tipping in the weigh in, 1 stone and 4ibs of weight gained in 23 weeks, that's got to be some sort of record. I imagine my wedding photos from 2 weeks ago, in which my husband, looks leaner than ever. His regimented fitness routine, has stepped up a gear since I have been pregnant, allowing me much more space on our sofa to wallow in reality TV and chocolate.
In the Doctors room I'm greeted by a very nice girl, who looks only marginally older than my six year old niece. Up on the couch we listen to my little boy's hearbeat loud and clear, like the most fabulous high speed train I have ever heard. My niece's playmate proceeds to measure my bump with a tape measure and after several attemps which involve poking my pubic bone, she conceeds that a second opinion is required. I lie in wait, tummy covered in gel and it's not long before Dr G arrives and greets me with "I know you, I made you cry" mmm happy memories of a previous visit, when i was provided with inaccurate information in a most unfortunate manner. "Yes" I laugh! Dr G takes out her tape measure and confirms the bump is 2cm smaller than it should be, but she isn't concerned as everything else appears fine and in anycase, measurements should only be adhered to in this way post 24 weeeks. "You look better, you've put on some weight" Dr G says as she leaves, "you looked better as a distant memory" i think to myself as I smile.
My niece's playmate later assures me there is no real cause for concern as further investigations are only carried out if a bump is 3cm smaller than it should be. It's given me something to worry about until my next visit, but i'm off to find the nearest supermarket, buying biscuits, will help things along!
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