Tuesday, 20 September 2011

Life is a Rollercoaster Baby!

About six months ago I had a very eventful weekend which changed a lot of things in my life.  Over the course of a few short days I turned forty and found out I was pregnant with my third child.

My fortieth birthday faded into the background somewhat as all the plans I had been making since I turned thirty suddenly had to change.  Gone were the many bottles of red wine that would have been my constant companions under ordinary circumstances.  No big night of partying like it’s 1999 and of course the quiet afternoon of Botox I had hoped for had to be swapped for a nap and a quick trip to the shops for sensible supportive undergarments.

My other half coped well, he had a few drinks himself at my birthday party and managed to deflect offers of alcohol for me with expertly placed comments like “she’s been sick as a pig all day with a tummy bug” or “we had a few last night, she’s not able for it any more” while I sipped orange juice and water. 

As the weeks passed by I felt really well, which confused me.  In the past, pregnancy for me meant the complete opposite.  I had found the task daunting, exhausting and a lot of work.  For some reason this time round, I was actually enjoying it.

I craved healthy foods, drank wells worth of fresh water, slept like a log and only had teeny bits of sickness.

Then a couple of weeks ago at the six month mark, baby decided he/she had been giving me too easy a time and aimed a couple of kicks into the same overstretched muscle in my lower abdomen.

It hurt.

Like fricking hell.

It still hurt three days later so I went to my GP, who wasn’t happy with the situation so she sent me to the hospital where I learned that I’m carrying a hyper responsive baby and need to rest a lot.  This wasn’t really news to me as I’ve been woken by baby more than once since about 14 weeks in.

What was news to me what how many other women were in the hospital at the same time as me with exactly the same problem.  How odd.

That afternoon there were six of us.  All over forty, all expecting our third/fourth child, all having had wonderful pregnancies up until that week and all carrying hyper responsive babies.  I think that basically means our babies move a lot more than normal and with what feels like super human strength, although I haven’t yet found a doctor who agrees with me on the super human strength part.

I have been fascinated by this and can’t stop wondering why we’re all in the same situation.  What if last February something unusual happened over our little corner of the world and our babies were affected.  Maybe they’re special

Yeah, yeah, I know all kids are special, but maybe ours have powers.

I know it’s most likely a coincidence but if you hear of a new born baby setting fire to a midwifes arse in about 10 weeks’ time, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Thursday, 1 September 2011

Connect Me

Another summer over, another first day back at school already a memory and its September.

So, here I sit at my kitchen table, ready and waiting for genius to strike.  My routine is back in order; I have designated time two mornings a week to write for the next three months and what happens?  My Internet connection goes down.


Doesn’t the Internet service provider know that I have a check list before I can write?  It’s crucial to the point of being superstitious.  I absolutely, most definitely, completely importantly must do the following before I can write a word:

·         Check email.

·         Cross reference bank account with my carefully planned colour coded excel budget for the household.

·         Look at the stats on my blog.

·         Check email.

·         Look at my credit card balance in case a miracle has happened in the night and its zero for the first time in 17 years.

·         Add a bunch of stuff to the online shopping list that I forgot last week.

·         Check email.

·         Mess about on Twitter for 5 minutes (ok perhaps 30 minutes).

·         Facebook someone.

·         Check email.

·         Read the 9 at 9 on the

·         Look at to find out just why Marc Anthony and Jennifer Lopez split up.

·         Check email.

Alright, I’m not a complete fool, I know I don’t actually NEED an Internet connection to write something on a blank page, but I LIKE it and without completing my checklist, my brain just can’t clear itself out.

I am not a happy camper Internet service provider person, if that thingy twirling in the corner of the screen doesn’t connect soon, I’ll be making a stern phone call and this time I’ll stay on hold no matter how many times I have to listen to Green Sleeves. 

You won’t break me.

NOTE: If anyone out there actually gets to read this you will realise that at some point my Internet connection connected and I am now in fact a happy camper.