Category Archives: IUI

Spermy, Spermy, Sperms!

more sperm

 

This is quite possibly the most exciting personal post I have written in a while. The posts about my life and memoirs seem to be getting rarer, but this blog was created originally as a memoir, so I refuse to let go of that side completely, no matter how much it’s evolved, so sorry to all the folk out there who signed up to read all about writing, this ones a memoir.

A long time ago, I was told I probably wouldn’t be able to have children. It’s a long story, but it ended up in me falling pregnant rather quickly and a hasty retreat by the fertility clinic.

Thankfully we managed to get pregnant, and nine extremely long months later, and 3.5 days of excruciating labour, baby Black was born. The best year of my life followed, and a difficult decision about sperm.

The wife and I thus far haven’t really wanted another child. Not for any other reason than, we need to pay off the cost of the first baby, and buy a house to make sure we can provide for him first before having another one.

We have spent a long time discussing whether having another one would suit us, and our family. We bickered a lot to start with, but I guess that’s normal for most couples. As time has gone on we have continued to learn lots of parenting lessons and are continually growing together on our journey.

Deciding whether to save sperm for another child has been a topic of much contention. It’s difficult trying to predict what we might or might not want to do in a few years time.

Of course, even if we didn’t save sperm we could have another child using another donor, but if the option is there to use the same donor, we are both in agreement that we would prefer to use them.

So we came to a cross road… To save or not to save? It’s an extremely costly affair saving sperm. To save enough for three attempts it’s a whopping £1000 for three years, and another £300 every three years to continue to have it stored.

BUT, we decided to save some, just in case. I am not saying we will have any more kids, as at the minute neither of us can see it happening, however, we are trying to protect our options, ensure that we aren’t taking our choices away and making a decision about how we will feel in 5 or 6 years time.

So there we have it… Very exciting news, the Black’s have a bank… a bank of sperm! (can’t help but giggle like a child about this!) But SHHHHH! It’s a secret!

 

Daylight Savings Time + Toddlers

Ahhhh, the dreaded clock change that happens twice yearly…. that sacred extra hour you usually get in bed…pre parenthood.

WORST WEEK OF MY LIFE PEOPLE!!!

Babies apparently don’t appreciate this annual gift we are given of extra sleep, in fact, not only do they reject the gift, they completely ignore it, choosing instead to get up at the usual time (now an hour early) the joyous hour of 5am. Fuck the worm, I have never been a morning person. I choose to be a late bird, why oh why did my son not inherit this precious piece of me?!

This was genuinely me trying to get out of bed at 5am to get the boy this morning.

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The thing is, he is doesn’t just affect the morning its also affecting the evening. Instead of going to be at 7, like normal we get to half past 6, and he goes all

angry

Its horrendous. We have tried everything from distraction, to TV, to extra milk, and out and out bribery! nothing is working. So tomorrow we have asked friends to come round to try and distract him between half six and 7, in the vague hope ‘new faces’ might be exciting! sigh. My caffeine intake this week is actually offensive!

Anyone else suffering with Daylight Savings Time?

Forget terrible twos, why didn't anyone tell me about the terrible ten months?

As I promised, this would be a blog of two halves, partly about my life as a mum, writer, and worker bee, and partly about writing, and my quest to get published.

So, this is a motherhood post.

Everybody knows about the terrible twos, how truly awful they are with screaming tantrums and public paddies.

giphy child

Hideously embarrassing and the phase I suspect most parents dread in young children. BUT SERIOUSLY…. why did no one tell me about the horrific change that happens at ten months? My son is now ten and a half approaching eleven months, and it was like an alien literally took over his body and possessed his previously calm temperament.

Nappy changing is simply an impossibility without an army of spare hands, arms and legs to pin your gremlin of a child in place while you change them. Ok, so distraction occasionally works too, but not as well as it used to! He now likes to pitch an absolute bitch of a screaming fit, when I get him dressed, try and do his teeth, or anything that even remotely changes his current situation.

In spite of the fact I’ve read a million mum blogs, help sites read books and compared notes with a hundred friends, it kind of doesn’t matter what they say or suggest because baby black, is just going to make life difficult his own way! When I find a solution I’ll report back!

 

Writing

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I am attempting to take more time for me now that I am beginning to get some semblance of routine back into my life. With work just round the corner an the end of my maternity approaching, I am trying to think more about myself and where I want to go. I don’t want baby black to grow up with a miserable mother – just because I carried on doing a ‘job’ that pays the bills. I want to be a role model for him, to show him if you want something bad enough you can do it, you just have to work hard. So, now I have a fixed laptop, it is time to crack on with my writing course. Incase anyone else fancies themselves a writing course you can find it here.

So my first assignment, and piece of writing I had to do was a piece of descriptive writing. I thought I would share it with you. It was an observational piece, and we had to choose somewhere of interest and describe it. Feel free to comment if you like:

In the distance an aeroplane rumbled, and I strained to find the contrail jutting out of its rear. Unable to see it, I meandered down the twisted wisteria walkway instead. This was the aisle I was meant to walk down on my wedding day. Sighing, I stroked one of the baby branches arching over the walkway and was surprised to find it furry and covered in moss; my fingers tingled at its touch. Its elder looked down watching it grow, bark as wrinkly as a grandmothers.

The gravel crunched under my feet, as I continued down the path. I halted as I glimpsed a hint of the pillar-box red oriental bridge in the distance. Veering off the walkway I headed towards the bridge to stand at the edge of the lake, I heard the quacking of a pair of ducks paddling in the pond, and the roar of a waterfall pounded the jagged rocks surrounding it. Staring at the pool beneath the waterfall, I wondered whether mermaids lived in the murky midnight blue depths.

I stepped around the end of the walkway into a huge open space covered in a blanket of green grass. It felt like I was entering a magical world. A towering pagoda stood peacefully amongst the trees and boulders around it. If you listened hard enough you could almost hear the clip clop of geisha shoes, and the flapping of kimono fabric in the wind. Poised at my feet, stood a single flower flecked with pink ready to battle the first frosts of spring like a samurai preparing for war. 

I inhaled deeply, and the sharp air cut my throat as it whipped my fringe into my glasses. I pulled my jacket tighter to protect myself from the chilly air and walked through the dewy grass towards the aged mansion at the top of the gardens. I placed my hands on the filigree garden gate, and shivered as the icy metal bit my fingers. A delicate spiders web quivered in the breeze lonely without its eight-legged owner. The stately gardens behind the gate were pruned to perfection, with chess shaped bushes and neat lines surrounding the majestic fountain centerpiece.  

Springs first sunshine kissed the mansions sandy colored bricks. Terracotta turrets bulged out of the roof, and evergreen coloured ivy crept boldly up the walls.  I walked away imagining wartime evacuees waving behind the mansions enormous square windows and running through the great rooms inside.

 

 

 

A Letter To My 18 Year Old Son

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Like the TV advert, the wife and I decided to set up an email account for our newborn  son to open on his 18th birthday. We will spend the next 18 years sending letters, photos and videos to him in secret, so that his life with us is chronicled. I thought you may like to read my first entry.

My Dearest A,

You are currently my little sleeping beauty upstairs in your crib. I am hoping you are reading this on or around your 18th birthday, as we have now given you the password and account details for this account.

I want you to know, wherever you are, wherever we are, I am immensely proud of whoever you have become. I love you with all my heart, you are my world.
‘The Very first moment I beheld him, my heart was irrevocably gone.’ Jane Austen.
 
You’re 11 and a half weeks old, just shy of 3 months old. I look at you now and wonder how you came to be. It feels like you have been here my entire life, and yet, for just a moment, and already I love you with such immensity that it takes over my entire being.
I am still at home on maternity leave with you at the moment and will be for a few more weeks. I savour every moment of time I spend with you, because I will be at work soon and then every moment I spend away from you will be a moment wasted. 🙁
The best parts of my day are when you smile at me, or when I get to watch you learn something new. Your making lots of noises these days, and beginning to form a real laugh, and I can’t help but giggle every time you do; your learning to sit – although you scream in protest every time we practice, you much prefer standing up. You love your door bouncer and finally your starting to learn to roll over.
I am talking to my 18 year old son… I will be 44 by the time your 18. Oh my god, that seems like a life time away, I can’t imagine what I will be like at 44, or who I will be, let alone who you will be.
What do I hope for you? Firstly and most importantly I hope you are happy. I hope you have had a wealth of experiences, good, bad, naughty and ugly! I hope you are safe and well. I hope you have studied hard, and played harder, I hope you have loved and lost and loved again and I hope you have travelled.
Every parent wants their child to be a doctor, lawyer, pilot or some other well paid career. But I just hope that you have found something that will make you happy for the duration of your career, I don’t care if your a ballerina, a seamstress, a chef or a boxer. As long as you work hard you will be the best you can be, but enjoy whatever you choose to do in life, because life is too short to be unhappy…. but secretly I do hope you have chosen to go to university! I met your mumma at university and I am sure I speak for her too when I tell you how much fun we had at university, even during the all nighters trying to finish assignments.
I hope you enjoy the next 18 years of emails! It might take a day or two to get through!
Happy Birthday baby boy, I love you always and forever, mummy. xxx

Tales of Advice

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The thing is, we ask for advice even when we don’t really need it, don’t really want it and then, we don’t really follow it!

I have a bee in my bonnet about this because I annoy myself asking for advice.

Why do I do it?

I… Infact WE all already know the answer. Don’t we?

For example:

Should I go out tonight?

Even though your asking with a little wry smile you already know your going, so why do we bloody ask?

Should I eat a second bar of chocolate?

No Sach, of course you shouldn’t, because once you do, your guna be wracked with guilt over the calories you have guzzled, feel guilty, fat and then reach for a third bar to console yourself – why do I do it? I just shouldn’t ask because I already know the answer!

The real irritation I have with asking for advice is really, deep down, we’re all just looking for self justification. It’s kind of arrogant! We want everyone else to agree and justify what we want to do, even when we know it’s a bad idea.

Oh what should I do? – my (fictional) boyfriends cheated on me… again – should I take him back? I mean he is really sorry this time.

Why can’t we just be confident in our decisions? In what we already know we are going to do. Why do we pretend and deny that we haven’t made our minds up?! The moment I ask for advice I’ve already made my mind up. I know it, whoever I’m asking knows it too. Yet we both persist in dancing around the perpetual advice fence: you justify whatever course of action you really want to take, and the person giving advice rolls around the reasons why it’s a bad idea.

What’s the point? Waste of air.

AND…. Even when we do get advice we never bloody follow it! Humans are awful at following advice. We all give it, and even when we ask our dear friends what they would tell themselves, we still don’t follow it!

So – I decided –

Fuck advice, I already know what I want to do….

I have been searching for the right writing course for two years, the course to give me the right knowledge to finish my novel and kick start what I hope will be a writing career – my dream.

Why I thought to ask whether or not to do it I have no idea. I only got annoyed with what I heard, because really, all I wanted was confirmation I was doing the right thing, and who can actually give me that? No one but me!

Yes it’s 350 quid, but I can pay it over a few months, yes I have a newborn. But so what. Who do I actually need to justify it to?

Does having an infant mean my life goes on hold? That my dreams stop?No. More to the point, if I did put my life on hold, what kind of role model is that for my child? Do I want him to learn that you can be lazy and find excuses not to follow your dreams? Or do I want him to know that he has to work, hard, play hard and never give up….

So, I’ll ignore the pessimism, stop asking for advice and do it anyway. My money, my time, my choice.

I might be, covered in sick, soaked in pee, stinking of baby poop, slightly delirious, and temporarily daisy the milking cow, but that doesn’t mean I can’t follow my dreams…..

Even if I have to do it one handed, smelling of baby fluids and caked in puke. Failing that I’ll do it in the bath once the boys asleep!

The Mother of all Statuses

Admittedly I dropped off the face of the planet, but in my defence I did push a rather large baby out my whatsit  9 weeks ago!

I met a mummy friend today, and she told me she was starting a blog, so I figured I had no excuse as a veteran blogger! So I am officially jumping back on the wagon. It was a fight to dream land with baby black but now he’s down here I am catching up!

I figure the quickest way to update you on the last 9 weeks is through short sharp Facebook statuses – Here is my last 9 weeks in brief:

 

4/2/14 Had the boy weighed today… 14lb… He’s a stone… A STONE!! Wtf!!

I just want to state for the record 5am is NOT play time 

1/2/14 And that is why I deserve a pair of Louboutins!…. And the fact I pushed a baby out my…!

cinder

 

30/1/14 Someone seriously needs to invent breast pads that actually work  this is not a good look

leaky

29/1/14 8 hours later, several nappies, play gym, bumbo, vibrating rocking chair, several feeds, me covered head to foot in leaked milk, sticky arms, no bath, no pee, inhaled food, practiced sitting, standing and grabbing and finally I managed to tire him out enough for one…. Just one nap…. I am shattered, PLEASE for the love of my sanity stay asleep.

And he’s awake again. Some one actually shoot me.

28/1/14   8 week health check and vaccines… FML

25/1/14  Dear pampers/huggies can you please invent a dry baby wipe that still cleans but isnt cold and wet like the normal wipes, because they ALWAYS wake the baby up in the middle of the night when u need to change them. Thanks

23/1/14  Won’t nap during the day when u want them too… But by god will they fall into an unwakeable coma the minute u want them to be awake!… In other news I’m pretty sure there’s sick on me somewhere the smell of stale cheese is following me and I can’t find where it is!! #fml

21/1/14  So tired today 🙁

20/1/14  5000 changes later a gallon of poo, dozens of nappies, half a roll of kitchen towel, several litres of sick, a rather large bogey, two giant pee pees, half a pack of baby wipes, and finally a bath, Atlas is clean, dressed, fed and passing out –

I on the other hand am rather sweaty, covered in several layers of poo, sick and wee, my child’s bogey and oddly macaroni cheese! When is my wife coming home…. — feeling fresh

16/1/14  Apparently these are the same age – UGH no wonder I can’t find anything to fit him 🙁

baby grow

 

15/1/14  Looking fabulous covered in projectile vomit as I walk into tescos…. Note to self – keep a change of clothes for mummy not just baby in the car!

9/1/14 Hate to have a bitch and moan but how in the hell is this model representative of post birth women? – amazon are idiots

skinny bitch

 

“severe” tummy muscle separation and an average healing time of 5-6months – which means no proper exercise for 5/6months – definitely shedding a tear today — feeling gutted.

Ok that would be the 4th change of clothes… #sigh

Definitely initiated into parenthood this morning – pee and sick on the bed followed by projectile sick on to the floor and three changes of clothes all before I’m dresses and out of my room BUT it’s all ok… You know why…. We have laughter as well as smiles this morning – and that made it all ok again!!

8/1/14 And we have a smiling baby black and it’s not just wind!!

28/12/13 Where has 4 weeks gone? Can’t believe we have been parents for 4 whole weeks already!

25/1/13 CHRISTMAS DAY

Thank you everyone for the love and messages  I just got home safe and sound but under strict rest orders and have some heavy duty antibiotics but on the mend 

Would really like to go home now — feeling sad.

So for Christmas Santa bought me a stay in hospital, IV antibiotics and some serious abdomen pain  merry fudging Christmas everyone! — feelingill.

23/12/13 Officially running on empty — feeling drained.

22/12/13 I now have full appreciation for the need for ‘family cars’ trying to breast feed and nappy change in my car is a full blown FML situation!!

…That priceless moment when ur little bub holds on during a cuddle and u just know u were born to be a mummy/mama/daddy or dada…. 

21/12/13 Best day ever when u can put pre pregnancy trousers on and they aren’t uncomfortable…!  still a long way to go though!!

20/12/13 Find “milk drunk” babies hilarious

15/12/13 Calling all breastfeeding mothers – upon leaving the house post feed – make sure your top is pulled up and ur bra covered particularly when entering supermarkets!

12/12/13 Forget being ambidextrous…. Having babies give you toe and feet dexterity!! I’ll be painting the Mona Lisa with my left toes in no time!!

10/12/13 Advent calendars…. The reason why mummies with Christmas babies know the date!!

8/12/13 you know your wife has OCD when she has to go out to matalan to buy cream mittens because you have put white on next to a cream baby gro!!! — feeling amused

6/12/13 Day 1 at home 9:15am everyone’s bathed and dressed and he’s been fed…. Hmm I’m thinking this is the calm before the storm!! :s

Baby Black has been born!

** WARNING ** Graphic explanation of my labour and following experiences.

Understandably I have been a bit slack at blogging because…. Baby Black was born on 30th November 2013.

My labour… WHAT can I say….It was pretty traumatic due to the length of the labour but in the end everything was fine.

I laboured from Thursday morning 28th (my due date!!) right through to Saturday night when he was born so a very long time!!

So, I started some sporadic contractions on the 27th, but officially starting continuous contractions in the early hours of the morning on the 28th. I went to hospital at midnight on the 29th (night of the 28th but morning of the 29th), and despite having what the midwife said were strong contractions 2minutes apart I was actually only  1cm dilated. Considering I had been contracting ALL fricking day I was devastated!

So I was sent home with paracetamol and codeine. I continued to contract through the night every 4 minutes, by 3:30pm on the 29th I was so exhausted and in so much pain that I couldn’t take it any more, so we went back to hospital despite the contractions only being 7-8 minutes apart.  When I got to hospital I was STILL only 2 cm dilated, so they gave me a sweep and suggested that I should have a single shot of morphine so that I could at least sleep through for a few hours. So I took it as I had been awake for 36 hours and had had contractions the previous night (27th) so had barely slept that night either. I sort of slept – if you count waking up every 4 minutes to record a contraction!!

At some point in the middle of the night on the 29th (morning of the 30th) they discovered I was 4cm dilated and officially in active labour, however I was in a LOT of pain, which is when they discovered that he was back to back…. explaining why it was taking so long for me to dilate as at this point id been contracting for two straight days with just that shot of morphine and some paracetamol!! (the other reason the labour took so long is that he was really big – but i will explain that later)

My waters broke at some point between 2 and 4am on the morning of the 30th I forget when exactly, but that is when the real pain began it was excruciating I mean really like nothing I’d ever felt. I threw up a full litre of liquid I was in so much pain, so I was given gas an air (a hilarious couple of hours that my wife can regale humorous stories about me demanding to buy the gas and air and waving the tube around and shaking my bump!) I managed to get in the pool (where I wanted my birth) for all of about 10 minutes.

They discovered my cervix was swollen and I had halted dilation at 4cm and wasn’t getting any further. I then asked for an epidural because after 48 hours and then being told he was back to back and not dilating any more I gave up (sad to say) but I literally didn’t have anything left and I was in agony. As it happened they would of given me one anyway because as soon as they put it in they also hooked me up to a  syntocinon drip because my waters had broken they couldn’t allow my dilation to stop. Due to the exhaustion however all my veins collapsed in my hands and they had to get an anaesthetist to canula me… think i ended up with 5 failed canulars in total!

My active labour stage was 20 hours…. so I continued to contract from when the epi was put in at 6 or 7am until 9pm that night when he was born. But I was a bit rubbish at pressing the epidural button so I still had a lot of movement in my legs, and knew when I was contracting.

Unfortunately at this point I began to spike a fever due to some unknown infection or other, so they started IV antibiotics but not in time for them all to get through to the baby, so we ended up having to stay in hospital for a week. Baby A also then got jaundice so was under a lamp for the best part of a day.

So the actual birth… I had stopped pressing the epidural button about an hour before I started to push because I wanted to still at least feel part of the need to push. Which I am happy to say I could – I was telling the midwife when I felt like I wanted to push and I was always right –

It took 55 minutes of pushing and thankfully despite a ridiculously long labour I did it, by myself, no assistance needed (except an epidural!) which I am sad that I had to use, but it was necessary anyway in the end.

The midwife said she was very impressed and couldn’t believe I was hiding such a whopper of a baby in there!!

He was born at 20:49 on the 30th November weighing 9lb1oz

My body is totally massacred though, I have some muscle separation but considering his size its not really a surprise!! So I have been referred to a physio in Jan, amazingly because I didn’t panic the Midwife was able to control my delivery and I only had a minor tear 4 stitches – 2 inside 2 out. But I had several grazes and part of my labia ripped/tore off and it wasn’t spotted until I examined myself several days later so it had healed unfortunately – so I feel a bit wounded over that. I am layered in stretch mark scars too. But the worst body torture which could of ended up with me in hospital was a retained placenta. I kept telling the midwives that something was wrong down below, and I was examined twice, but they couldn’t see anything wrong. Well a few days later I started to develop what can only be described as a tongue dangling out of my vagina – I was incredibly concerned that they had failed to stitch a piece of vaginal wall back in or something. The day after leaving hospital a midwife is meant to visit you  – It got to 4pm and I started to think that no one was coming, so I phoned the hospital and doctors surgery and they sent the on call midwife…

Now this was actually my community midwife much to my horror – She is incredibly attractive, and I remember saying to the wife how mortified I would be if she ever had to examine me!

Well anyway after a hilarious few minutes trying to find said tongue – which had disappeared she grabbed the end and asked me to cough and much to my horror I felt a long warm sensation – I thought I had urinated on her! – I hadn’t!! She pulled out half of baby A’s membrane one of the largest pieces she has seen- she told me that if I hadn’t been on antibiotics it would have rotted – and she’s not sure why it didn’t rot anyway as it was a week post birth, not only that she’s not sure why I didn’t haemorrhage or get septicaemia (something my aunt got when she had a retained placenta). Anyway – she got it out and I wasn’t infected thank god. But I am so glad I stuck to my guns and kept asking people to examine me.

Baby A has taken to breast feeding like a dream we are both smitten and he’s perfect – but then we would be biased!!

Theres a lot more I can update from our week in hospital and the first three weeks of his life but enough for now 🙂

Quarantine for you 'fatty'

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Friday was…utterly ridiculous. I went to my GP just to see what this itch was all about, because it was intolerable, but I assumed that it was just eczema because the midwife had said it was nothing the week before. Anyway – the GP was having none of it and decided that I needed to go straight into hospital and have blood tests – for Obstetric Cholestasis

For Information OC is:

Obstetric cholestasis (OC), also called intrahepatic cholestasis of pregnancy (ICP), is a potentially serious liver disorder that can develop in pregnancy. Normally, bile salts flow from your liver to your gut to help you digest food. In obstetric cholestasis, the bile salts don’t flow properly and build up in your body instead. There’s no cure for OC, but it clears up once you’ve had your baby.Some studies have found that babies of women with OC are more likely to be born prematurely or to be stillborn. It’s not known how much higher the risk of stillbirth is compared to women who don’t have OC. There is no reliable way to work out your baby’s individual risk of stillbirth.

I rocked up to hospital and was basically immediately quarantined – they weren’t sure if I had chicken pox or OC – neither of which are great news – they drew blood decided to give me a CTG ( monitoring the babies heart rate) – which they then thought showed a deceleration, so I was then re-monitored and had to sit with the CTG monitor bands on my itchy rash wrapped round my belly for over an hour – I was becoming more and more displeased with the situation! We had gone in at 3pm and at 10pm there were STILL no blood test results. They didn’t want to release me as they had said that if the tests came back positive they were going to induce me there and then.

Do you know my major concern at this point… as pathetic as it sounds… try not to judge me… but I hadn’t shaved!! I didn’t want to be induced and have hairy legs – not if I was able to have a pool birth! ridiculous the things you worry about when your panicking!!

Anyway – I decided that we would leave hospital because the wife hadn’t eaten for over 12 hours and I had, had just about enough of all the fuss. Suffice to say the results all came back fine and I didn’t need inducing at all – and do you know what they gave me… a bloody piriton – PIRITON – an allergy drug I could have bought over the bloody counter at the local supermarket HOURS before. The irritating thing is my best mate ( a doctor) diagnosed me with PEP (polymorphic eruption of pregnancy) about an hour into me sitting in hospital – all she got was a couple of tidbits of information over a text no exam or anything – sigh – if only she had been able to be my doctor!!

PEP is: a relatively common skin disorder that occurs in women of childbearing age. It usually presents in women during their first pregnancy. Recurrence in subsequent pregnancies is unusual and milder.

It is characterised by an itchy rash that commonly begins on the abdomen, particularly within stretch marks (striae). It most usually develops during late pregnancy (third trimester) 

Basically a really annoying itchy rash – delightful, one of the other lovely ailments caused in pregnancy!! Suffice to say the itchy is subsiding now I have the piriton but the rash is spreading – and is now on my thighs 🙁

Today was officially my last day at work – I know I finished over a week ago but I had to go in today for half a day for a conference that my team had organised. Half day – so left at about 1 /1:30 and between 9:30 and 1:30 I had no less than 6 people comment on my size…

some of the most ridiculous inducing:

“alright fatty”

“woah im not being rude, but your fucking huge”

“oh you’ve put on weight since I last saw you” “hahaha”

How is “alright fatty” a bloody greeting ??? Why (a women no less) think that it was acceptable to greet another women in that way? irrespective of being pregnant. Just infuriates me. I don’t think I’m that fat? I don’t think I have put on that much weight, but all the constant comments are really starting to get to me, no one ever says anything nice, only comments about how huge I am. I am trying really hard to stay positive, but I am still a girl and I am still sensitive about my weight and its really not nice hearing people comment on how massive you are CONTINUOUSLY – even if the cause is pregnancy.

🙁

 

37 weeks – full term – the countdown begins

So tired – still suffering got lots to update too, I can’t seem to bring myself to do anything. Lots of my friends have asked to see me and I’m just too exhausted to even text back, let alone see them. I’m not sure where my days are going I seem to be drifting from one day in a zombie trance to the next. I feel like I’m wasting my days of leave I want to write and read but I just cannot bring myself to do anything. I spent most of yesterday in hospital – don’t worry all fine – they threatened induction but the bloods came back clear and there was nothing wrong – will explain more later

But for now bump photo….

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