Mother Of Two

The cutest little monkeys.

Being a mother of two is…
– Spending weeks thinking about what you’ll do when they both nap at the same time and then wasting it looking at instagram when it finally happens.
– Sometimes counting the ‘high point’ of your day as the time when the babies poo at the same time so you can use one nappy bag for both. Economic!
– Nodding and smiling nicely about 58 times a day when people tell you you’ve got your hands full.
– Trying to ram the double buggy through doors that aren’t wide enough, down aisles that it clearly doesn’t fit down and around people who have no concept of where it’s appropriate to stand and have a chat.
– Attempting to make important phone calls while feeding the baby, helping the toddler create a crayon masterpiece, eat your breakfast (at 2pm) and change somebody’s nappy.
– Wondering if you could squeeze into a nappy yourself so you save time having to go to the toilet.
– Being more tired than you ever knew possible but also more happy (had to throw a nice one in there cause I do really like my children!).
– Wondering if it looks twee or cute if you’ve accidentally matched the kids’ clothes but going with it anyway because changing one would be more hassle.
– Deciding if going to the loo, eating or sitting down for two minutes are the priorities. Deciding you can actually combine all three!
– Trying to stop the big one squashing the small one.
– Being tempted to write a Facebook bragging status when you get to the bottom of the laundry basket.
– Wondering how baby always has a bigger pile of clean clothing in each load than anyone else despite being much smaller than everyone.
– Deciding you’ll have bulging biceps in no time when you’re carrying round baby in his car seat and toddler at the same time.
– Trying to get both of them to look at the camera simultaneously just once.
– Feeling really responsible when you realise you’re in charge of two human beings.
– Giving yourself a mental high five when you get to the end of every day and they’re both still alive, fed and changed, even if they (and you and the house) are covered in sick, bogeys and food.

Harriet, Alexandra and Max x

21 Months and 2 Months Old

I thought I’d combine a monthly update for both children, mostly as Max turned two months on the 26th and Alexandra turned 21 months on the 29th so we’d have two similar posts on the trot otherwise. Also because once she turns two I’ll probably do less frequent updates about Alex so it seemed to make sense to do it this way.

Alexandra:

This little one’s personality seems to be growing every day, she’s full of sass and is much too smart for her own good. We’re definitely experiencing the full force of tantrums now but on the flip side she’s also very loving and caring. She’s delightful with her brother and loves giving kisses to everyone, whether it’s us or her teddies.

Her vocabulary is expanding daily with new words including star, heart and circle (there’s been a new focus on shapes in our house!), blue, spoon and efforts to say Max, car (sounds like dar) and moo (she says boo instead!). We’ve been doing a lot of counting but that mainly involves shouting the number two which is her favourite number by far.

Alex is excellent at pointing out different objects, animals and people in her books and particularly enjoys playing with her farmyard animal matching game (they played something similar at nursery and the staff were very impressed with what a whizz she was at it).

She’s getting much better at feeding herself and eats 95 per cent of her meals without assistance. Fruit is still one of her favourite things, although strawberries have overtaken bananas this month as her ultimate fave. Alexandra had her first proper fringe trim at the hairdressers this month, has spent loads of time in the garden and at the park, has lots of new books thanks to both nans and is still obsessed with stars, flowers, playing boo and saying hello into the phone (or any object she wants to pretend is a phone).

Max:

Little Maxi is now two months old although people still think he’s just a few days old when they see him for the first time. He was 7lb 8.5 on the 23rd and is still wearing newborn clothes. He began smiling at seven weeks old which we were really impressed by as we were told it could be six weeks after his due date (which would be when he’s 11 weeks).

He still loves his cuddles and is happy for ages lay on anyone’s chest. He’s also a very hungry boy and has around 120ml every three hours, a mix of expressed milk and Neocate. He now spends time in his bouncer and his baby gym and enjoys having new things to look at.

He adores his sister and spends a lot of time looking at her and listening to her. Max’s eyes are starting to go a lighter blue and his hair is still a mid brown and hasn’t started falling out yet. He’s still got the strong grip so many nurses and doctors commented on when he was first born and he’s much more active now, getting to grips with moving his arms and legs.

All in all, both of them are doing amazingly and we are super proud parents!

Harriet, Alexandra and Max x

Two Under Two Survival Tips

We’ve now been the owners of two children under the age of two for eight weeks. So far, so good in that all four of us have survived the experience and the children have at least been fed regularly. I’d like to offer up some advice based on the small amount of two under two experience I have under my belt for anyone utterly mad enough to sign up for the crazy experience that is the newborn/toddler combo experience:

– Consider becoming a Pampers shareholder or finding out if Aldi offer staff discount and joining their workforce. The amount of nappies we’ve got through is hideous.
– Save your voice by recording the following phrases and playing them on repeat to your toddler through the day: gentle, careful, no that’s the baby’s, give that back to the baby, please don’t tread on/kick/sit on the baby.
– Accept that everybody leaving the house in some form of clothing is a bonus. If the baby’s in their pyjamas, the toddler has banana in their hair and you have sick down your leggings then it’s fine. You made it out the house and that’s some sort of minor miracle considering the likelihood of someone needing to eat, drink, have their nappy changed, nap, have a tantrum or any combination of the above at any one point in time.
– Just don’t even bother attempting to nap. You probably discovered about a week in to life with baby 1 that sleeping when the baby sleeps is some sort of bullshit advice given to you when you’re pregnant to lull you into a false sense of security about how easy this is going to be. If the planets ever align and you find both of your children are napping at the same time then do not under any circumstances bother closing your eyes (not even a long blink) or, heaven forbid, lying down. They will know. They will both wake up within seven milliseconds even if they’ve only just gone to sleep. They will both begin crying like they’ve never cried before and you will have to choose which one of them to console first while praying the other doesn’t explode they’re crying so hard.
– As above, don’t bother starting to cook some food you intend to eat hot, getting the iron out or dialling someone’s number for a chat. The best you can hope for is you manage to speed eat a packet of crisps and half write a text that you’ve been meaning to send for the last week and will forget all about for at least another month before finally sending.
– Don’t be afraid to let other people do things. With baby 1 you might have been mildly possessive and insisted on doing EVERYTHING. Now you have two, if someone wants to assist in any way then thou shalt bite their hand off and be forever grateful. Whether this comes in the form of occupying toddler while you feed baby, making you a cup of tea or just having a cuddle with baby so you spend some time playing with your firstborn. If you can find someone willing to do nappies (thanks mom!) then consider holding them hostage in your house.
– Pick a child each and sort that one out. Regularly swap which child you each entertain, otherwise one of you will be on a constant feed, wind, nappy change cycle while the other is forced to talk on repeat about dogs, ducks and stars (current favourite in our house – I never noticed how many stars there are on everything until it was pointed out to me every day).
– Let Mr Tumble babysit. There’s no shame in plonking the toddler in front of the TV, having a cuddle with the baby and just not doing much for a while.

Harriet, Alexandra and Max x

Home With A Diagnosis

After a five-night stay in hospital, which I talked about here, Max (and I) came home yesterday. It was an absolute relief to be back with Dylan and Alexandra and we got back just in time for a trip to the park before bed.

On top of his CDH (congenital diaphragmatic hernia), Max now has a diagnosis of F-PIES – food protein induced enterocolitis syndrome. This essentially is a condition whereby babies/children have a severe reaction to certain foods. Rather than have a rash or any external symptoms, they are affected internally.

Max’s symptoms that we noticed were: becoming pale and lifeless and white loose poos. He also had a low temperature of around 35 – something which he had when he was in hospital after birth too, acidosis, dehydration and was essentially presenting the symptoms of sepsis which is why they started treating him for an infection at first. Apparently all this, including the sepsis-like symptoms, is common for F-PIES as well as vomiting which he doesn’t seem to be hugely affected by yet.

People with the condition can be affected by all sorts of foods and some can only eat a handful of ‘safe’ foods. Hopefully Max is only affected by cow’s milk protein, although one in three also can’t handle soy. Many children grow out of F-PIES but there’s no way of knowing when or if this will happen.

Obviously Max starting to wean is a long way off, but generally the plan would be to try him on soy at some point and then if he tolerates that begin to introduce dairy into his diet. Best case scenario is he tolerates it and can grow up eating a normal diet. Worst is that he’ll have to avoid certain foods forever (but as the doctor pointed out, it’s quite lucky to have a condition where the cure is to simply not eat something). There is no medication which can help from what I’ve read, doctors simply have to treat any symptoms children present with when they’ve had a reaction.

While I’m still expressing milk for Max, I have to avoid dairy (the dietician said I could potentially eat soy if I wanted to, but I’m cutting that out too just in case as one in three seems a high number!) as even the small amount passed through breast milk can be harmful to him – although it was the higher amount found in formula which triggered his reaction on Friday. He’s also got special formula so if he needs top ups or I decide to stop expressing then he can safely have that as it’s made without cow’s milk proteins.

I’m sure we will document his F-PIES journey along the way as we know this is just the start of a long road – and weaning won’t be as simple as it was with his big sister Alexandra. But at least we have a diagnosis now and we can keep him well now we know why he became so poorly.

Harriet, Alexandra and Max x

In Hospital Again!

Just when we thought we were settled, we had our lovely little family together and our biggest challenges were night feeds and nap times, poor Max is now back in hospital.

It began last Tuesday when he had his check up, where the doctor said although he was putting on weight it wasn’t enough and recommended us mixing 70ml of my milk with 30ml of formula at every feed. We did so and almost within a day began to feel he was much more unsettled. Then his nappy products didn’t look quite right. And then by Friday his feeding was all over the place, he was quite lethargic and by the evening he had gone really pale.

I’d sought advice from the health visitor who said it could just be the switch to formula but when Dylan came home he said there was a massive difference in Max’s appearance from that morning so we called out of hours and went for an appointment there, which eventually turned into an admission to the children’s ward at our local hospital (ten minutes away from our house compared to an hour for the women’s/children’s hospitals he was in previously).

That night was terrible. He’d lost 11 ounces in three days and at one point became unresponsive when they were trying to do a lumbar puncture on him. They pumped loads of fluids into him, some medication as he was severely acidic and did about a million tests.

Then they called the intensive care team to come and see him for an assessment, with it being touch and go whether he would be moved to another hospital with an intensive care ward. Luckily he’d responded to the fluids and meds so they said he could stay at our local hospital with the specialist teams from the hospital where he had his hernia surgery advising the doctors here.

He restarted feeding, small amounts at first which he wasn’t happy about, and has been gradually gaining weight each day. Currently (Tuesday) he’s still having lots of tests to determine if there is an underlying condition relating to his kidneys, liver or metabolism but he’s just come off his antibiotics because there’s no clinical evidence of infection.

One of the theories they’re working on is that Max has had a severe reaction to cow’s milk protein (there is a much higher amount in formula than cow’s milk which would explain why he became so poorly after starting the formula), so they’ve asked me to stop having dairy and they’re also doing some tests relating to that.

If he does have that then, rather than growing out of it like some children do, because he became so unwell at such a young age it’s possible it may be a life-long allergy.

He is doing well and is very alert and wanting to feed a lot which are all good signs. Compared to the pale little lifeless boy we had on Friday, he’s once again proved how strong he is and bounced back. We’re just hoping for an answer soon so we can take him home again as another round of this is not what any of us wanted!

Harriet, Alexandra and Max x

Max’s Story: Part 3

  1. This is the story of Max’s recovery and discharge from hospital. To read the earlier parts of the story, you can click on Part 1 and Part 2.

Day 10 –

A 2am call from a withheld number is never going to be good, especially if it’s about one of your children. I’d just got up to express when the phone rang and I knew instantly that Max’s lung had collapsed again. He’d been put back onto CPAP as he needed more assistance with his breathing and a X-ray in the early hours revealed his right lung had gone for a second time. The doctors were scratching their heads, wondering why it had happened.

I got about an hour’s sleep and returned downstairs to be greeted with the words congenital diaphragmatic hernia. A closer look at the latest X-ray showed part of Max’s bowel and liver had made their way up into the chest cavity and on examining the X-ray from when the initial collapse had happened, the doctors realised his liver was also in his chest then.

An ultrasound confirmed there was indeed a hole in our little boy’s diaphragm. From then on the day seemed completely hectic. It was arranged for Max to be transferred to the Children’s Hospital across the city and luckily they had a baby who needed to come back to the unit we were on so the swap was arranged for that afternoon.

I packed up the stuff in our parent accommodation and Dylan arrived and very quickly after the KIDS team arrived with the ambulance which would take Max to his new hospital. They explained the whole process and talked us through what would happen during the journey. Max was given medication to keep him sedated during the journey, although the little monkey decided he wanted to be wide awake so they had to give him extra doses to get him to drift off!

We went into the ambulance – with Dylan following us in the car with all our stuff – and after a journey of about 20 minutes we arrived on the PICU.

The difference between the two wards was incredible – from a little room with three other babies in to a huge open space with 31 beds for children of all ages needing intensive care. It was like going from a little airport like East Midlands to walking into Heathrow.

That afternoon he had numerous tests and scans and then we were told he’d be likely to have his operation the next day.

Day 11 –

Overnight I’d had to go and be checked at our original hospital as I wasn’t feeling well but luckily they had let me out to come back and be with Max. I stopped that night in a small room off the ward but was told in the morning there was a room for us at Ronald McDonald House just around the corner from the hospital.

Then the day became a process of waiting. Around lunchtime they confirmed they’d be taking him down for his operation at 3pm. It was set to take three hours so Dylan and I used the time to have some rest and grab some food.

At 6pm we received a call from his nurse to say he was back and everything had gone well. It was a huge relief although we’d felt quite positive from everything they’d told us before that it would have been. Unfortunately we just missed the surgeon so we didn’t get much more information than that they’d managed to do the surgery keyhole and hadn’t had to open him up so that was excellent.

Day 12 –

A chat with the surgeon confirmed when they had pushed Max’s liver back down into his abdomen, there had been enough diaphragm to stitch up the hole rather than needing to patch it. The overall recurrence rate is 20 per cent but this is significantly reduced when they’ve been able to stitch rather than patch it, so that was obviously a huge positive.

Everything seemed to be going well through the day and they were able to reduce his oxygen and pressure on the ventilator throughout the day before finally being able to extubate him around half seven in the evening. Alexandra and Dylan were stopping in the Ronald McDonald House that night so he was able to go over and see Max while I stayed in the room with sleeping Alex. It was incredibly hard to juggle things for Dylan so I was glad he’d been able to spend that time with his son.

Day 13 onwards –

The following day, less than 48 hours post op, Max was transferred to the neonatal surgical ward to continue his care there. The main focus was on getting him feeding so that he would start putting on weight and come home. Once they were happy with how much milk he was having every day and the fact it was making its way out the other end then that was a big tick in the box.

There was also plenty of talk about a brain scan he’d had which showed a small (around 4mm) area where there was either a bleed or a lesion. It’s in a part of his brain on the left hand side which controls movement and posture in the right hand side of the body. As of yet we don’t know what effect, if any, this will have on him. It could be as he grows that other parts of the brain will take on any function lost as a result of the bleed, or conversely it could get worse. So he’ll need regular monitoring and we’re awaiting a repeat brain scan.

However it’s not something they seem overly worried about and the lack of urgency about repeating the scan is reassuring as I’m sure they’d have been sending him for tests left, right and centre if they thought it was going to be a massive problem. Really it’s just a case of waiting and seeing – and we’ll have regular contact with the team at our local hospital to ensure any developmental issues are picked up on.

When our tiny little boy was 18 days old, the doctors on the ward round decided that he was truly well and fit to go home. After an (always) agonising wait for most the day to be discharged, we were finally on the way with our precious bundle in his car seat.

And so the adventure starts…

Harriet, Alexandra and Max x

Max’s Story: Part 2

As the post title suggests, this is the second part of our son Max’s NICU journey. If you haven’t read the first part, it would make sense to do so before returning to this post. You can find it here.

Day 2 –

Max’s bilirubin levels were measuring high and he looked very yellow so he was put on phototherapy for jaundice. We always knew this was a possibility because of him being prem, and having had a term baby previously with jaundice seemed to make it more likely (although I have no idea if that’s factual!). The hardest thing about that was him having to have his eyes covered (hilariously by a mask called an Eye Max) for days on end while he was under the lights. Not being able to hold your baby takes away so much of the experience of having a newborn so to not be able to see his eyes either is horrible.

Day 3 –

Things were improving today. Although we were told his initial swabs had tested positive for group b strep and that as a result they wanted him to have a lumbar puncture to check he hadn’t got meningitis. Although he wasn’t showing signs of it, the mere mention of the M word is enough to frighten any parent. I can’t imagine how horrific it would be to be told your child had meningitis so it was beyond a relief when the results came back clear.

Day 4 –

Today felt like an amazing day. Max was well enough to come off his ventilator and was coping well on optiflow. We got to hold him, just for 15 minutes each because he needed to go back under the photo therapy light. But that half an hour of cuddles was one of the best experiences of my life. Watching Dylan hold his son for the first time was truly incredible.

Just after, the midwife who delivered Max (Antoinette) came to say hello as she’d been doing a clinic down the corridor and then our friend Liz who works in the hospital as well came down to see Max at the end of her shift.

It felt like a good day. An amazing day in fact. I went upstairs to the postnatal ward (which was an awful place to be when your baby’s poorly! More on that later) feeling so positive. We knew they were trying to get Max moved back to the hospital in our town which would have allowed me to go back home and help Dylan who was trying to keep Alexandra in her routine. I was missing both of them a lot so the prospect was amazing.

Day 5 –

Dylan summed up this day as having the rug pulled from under you. He was right. There was no other way to describe it.

When I came down in the morning to see Max, it was immediately obvious he wasn’t feeling great. His chest didn’t look right when he was breathing and when the doctor examined him she said she wanted an X-ray done. The X-ray showed his right lung had collapsed. He was soon put back on the ventilator.

We were devastated. Looking at our tiny baby knowing his one lung wasn’t working was just horrible.

We tried to stay positive. We tried to reflect on the fact a baby who’d previously been in the cot next to Max had died that day and remember how lucky we were. But even now thinking back on that day makes my throat feel lumpy and my eyes sting.

Day 6 –

I was discharged from the ward and given the keys to a parent accommodation flat. Getting off postnatal was a huge relief and it also meant I could leave the hospital to get some food shopping and do some other errands. By this point Dylan and I had hardly spent any time together in over a week. It’s incredibly isolating to have a poorly baby, you’re constantly surrounded by people but not your family and friends. You talk to nurses and doctors constantly about their medical condition but you don’t get that privacy and time to talk to your husband about how you feel, to cry until your head hurts or just to lie down in a dark room for half an hour in silence.

Days 7, 8 and 9 –

Writing this a week on I’m struggling to remember these days. Each day passes in some sort of weird haze, punctuated by meds and nappy changes and discussions with doctors and X-rays and blood tests and tears and hopefully some smiles too.

Each day you wake up just hoping for some stability and for nothing to go horrendously wrong that day.
By day nine, Max was well enough to be extubated again and we dared to hope that this might be a turning point.

Harriet, Alexandra and Max x

Max’s Story: Part 1

Our super baby

When you have a baby, you expect long days, restless nights, tears and ups and downs. You probably don’t expect an extended hospital stay, machines, wires, nurses, doctors and uncertainty for the future. But that’s what happens. And sometimes it happens twice.

Anyone who’s been reading this blog for a while will know I became critically unwell after having my first baby Alexandra in August 2015. Things were touch and go for a time. We were just beginning to start healing from that awful, awful experience when we learned we were due to become parents again. Many appointments, injections and scans followed before our son Max was born five weeks early on Sunday, March 26th 2017.

It would be untruthful to say we had been relaxed during the pregnancy. We’d put on a positive front but there had been moments behind closed doors where either or both of us had crumbled under the weight of the anxieties and unknowns of the pregnancy. While I was medicated and my illness was diagnosed this time, doctors couldn’t guarantee the CAPS wouldn’t return. They couldn’t guarantee they could deliver a healthy baby.

Most of the time I kept my spirits up. Sometimes I looked at Alexandra and wondered if I’d see her grow up (this all sounds so dramatic reading it back but it’s true). Sometimes I looked at Dylan and wondered if we had gambled too much this time and whether I’d be leaving him to raise our children alone – if our son even made it into the world safely.

So when the most gorgeous 4lb 13 little boy was placed on my chest at 11.57am on March 26 and I held him there for 15 minutes or so, it felt like finally this was our moment of luck. This little boy had been sent along to complete the tiny hole in my heart that I thought would never be filled when a second baby looked unlikely.

We had always felt lucky to have one healthy baby together. It’s hard to comprehend just how much Alex battled against the odds to be born at term with no complications aside from borderline jaundice. But to have two children. My heart was full.

So what happened next seemed especially cruel after having those moments after birth.

Day 0 –

Max was taken upstairs to the transitional care ward to have all his checks done by a paediatrician. The plan was that I’d follow him up there after six hours – I had to stay on the labour ward until then to be monitored. Dylan went with Max and our midwife Antoinette (who was beyond amazing! I want to talk in a separate post about the differences between my two births and how fantastic our midwife this time was) helped me get a wash and some food down me.

By the time I was ready to go, we were told Max had started grunting – a sign of illness in prem babies – and had been taken down to the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) to be monitored. I was wheeled down there and got to have quick cuddles with him. At this point he was on oxygen being given through his nose and also had a feeding tube. It was worrying but we were hopeful it was something short term.

Day 1 –

X-rays showed Max had congenital pneumonia, meaning a chest infection which starts either before birth or shortly after. He was moved over from the high dependency to the intensive care side of the unit. I popped out to the cafe in the evening with my parents and by the time I came back it was obvious he was really struggling.

It was like he was trying to scream at us. The doctors agreed he’d deteriorated and decided to ventilate him, which means putting a tube down his throat which gives oxygen and pressure to help with breathing. I’d been ventilated during my illness and had an awful experience with the sedation drugs given while I was on life support – so the thought of my tiny baby going through the same process (even though they only give them a small amount of meds while the tube’s going in and they’re not kept sedated) was awful. I can’t even describe the pain of going back to my room on the postnatal ward and listening to other people’s healthy babies crying while mine was having a tube put down his throat to keep him alive.

Why? Why us? Did someone not think we deserved a break this time!

When we went back downstairs to see him after the ventilator was in place, it was instantly obvious it was the right decision. It was like looking at a completely different baby – calm and not struggling anymore.

To be continued…

Harriet, Alexandra and Max x

Rejecting Advice

I’ve written before, way back when I was pregnant with Alexandra, about the kinds of advice you get when you’re having a baby/a parent and how ridiculous some of it can be. Clearly if your mother/neighbour/another mom at a baby group gives you some advice you can decide for yourself if it’s useful or not, thank them and politely move on with your day. It’s your choice whether to accept and implement what they say or completely ignore it. However, one thing I’m finding myself baffled by is some people’s attitudes about rejecting advice which comes from experts (when I say experts, I mean proper trained health professionals, not people who went to a baby class once and now think they’re Supernanny).

Time and time again I’m seeing women calling into question every little thing their doctor, midwife or health visitor has said. Now clearly, you shouldn’t blindly accept what someone says just because they’ve got a piece of paper saying they know what they’re doing. If they suggest something which seems absurd, unsafe or just plain wrong then you have every right to question it with them, perhaps get a second opinion. But what riles me is when people just seem to have a ‘thing’ about saying no just because doctors/midwives are seen as a sort of authority figure.

‘I’m not going to have an induction because I don’t want one’ – now it’s one thing to do your research and decide that you’d rather opt for daily monitor than an induction just because you’re overdue if baby/placenta etc seem fine. It’s quite another to just blindly say you won’t be induced at any point. Surely it’s obvious no doctor is going to suggest inducing just because they feel like it? There’s always going to be a sound medical reason for it if that’s what they’d like you to do.

‘I’m so annoyed because my midwife/health visitor was ten minutes late. I don’t want to see her again’ – well I really hope you’re the person asking for help because your baby won’t feed or your stitches are infected or you just need to cry at someone for five minutes and she says ‘oh sorry, got to go to see someone else now’.

‘My midwife thinks I’m measuring small and wants to send me for a growth scan. I can’t be bothered to go to the hospital, what a waste of time’ – excellent. Going and finding out your baby is absolutely fine and feeling slightly aggrieved cause you’ve probably spent a fair few hours at the hospital is the BEST case scenario here. You just know these would be the same people complaining if a potential problem with their child wasn’t picked up.

‘My doctor says I need to be on these meds but I don’t want to take them’ – you know, cause doctors love handing out pills to pregnant ladies just for the absolute sheer fun of it.

I can’t even go into anti-vaxxers on this post because they deserve a whole post of their own quite frankly! I for one am super glad there are people in this world who spend their life looking after pregnant ladies, helping people give birth and offering advice in the newborn days. I am very glad there are people who know how to keep me and my children safe. I don’t blindly accept what they say but I do know that 99.9999 per cent of the time they are going to be far more knowledgeable than I am and, just because I have access to Google, that does make me a doctor.

Harriet, Alexandra and bump x

 

Take Two: Week 31

The bump featuring my nephew Zachary

Week 31 was fairly uneventful – although it’s getting to the point now where we’re on super alert in case something happens! The plan is still to get to 37 weeks although we know there’s a chance of induction before then. So it’s one day at a time at the moment.

I’ve been busy working a lot this week. I’m very lucky in that being a freelancer I can pick and choose what I do, but it also means some weeks are busier than others. It’s been a very welcome distraction from the worry of what’s to come! I’m intending to work right up until 36 weeks then having a week off before Baby 2 arrives, but that’s obviously subject to him staying put til then.

Symptoms wise I’m still getting away fairly lightly, and haven’t experienced any of the third trimester sickness (yet) that I had last time. I am super hungry all the time and eating enough for about 57 people, obviously tired and my back is achey but I’ve been very lucky symptoms wise this time. Although, you know, the whole ‘super high risk’ thing isn’t the best so don’t feel too envious of me!

I haven’t actually been to the hospital this week so a midwife appointment was the only thing on the calendar – all was fine there. Knowing we’re only five weeks away now we’ve reached 32 weeks seems very surreal – at this point last time I thought I had ten weeks because I was so sure I’d go overdue. I keep looking at Alexandra thinking she’s only got a very short time left as the baby! So many emotions about that, although she loves babies so much I’m hoping she’ll take to him pretty quickly. Or at least not strangle him.

Harriet, Alexandra and bump x