FFS Friday: Preemies and Withheld Love

Friday’s here again!! We know what Friday means, right boys and girls? Time for Mummy to whinge the day away with Dear Baby G!! Get excited!

Cleaned my house Sunday to prepare for an influx of visitors for an Intimo party... cleaned so hardcore I knocked the wind out of myself...FFS

Halfway through the party, I started to have Braxton Hicks... strong, uncomfortable ones... FFS

Rode them out all through Sunday night and Monday before finally heading to the hospital...FFS

Diddy is perfectly healthy and willing to stay inside for at least another week or two...No FFS!!

But I feel like a nufty for not being able to endure ‘Braxton Hicks’ without the assistance of paramedics...FFS

BUT THEY HURT...FFS

O still treats me as someone who is only there to feed and care for her between visits to her Daddy’s...FFS

I know she loves her Daddy, but I wish she’d love me a little sometimes, too...FFS

I’m getting paranoid about a 4 year old withholding affection...FFS

Sneaky mini mofo has me conned into ANYTHING to make sure she loves me just as much as Daddy...FFS

I’ve chatted with her Dad about it... he LAUGHED...FFS

Disclaimer: I honestly adore how much O loves her Daddy, and how much he loves her. I'm just whinging because it's what I do!!

 

After resting in an effort to stop Diddy from making an untimely entrance into this world, all the good cleaning I did Sunday is rapidly unravelling...FFS

And to top it off, I woke up LEAKING at 3am....I’m 28 weeks. It’s too early!!! FFS!!!

So what's got you a little FFS-y this week? 

Thankful Thursday: An Eventful Hospital Visit

Pain. Slightly disconcerting pain, and some things that didn’t feel right. A call to Nurse on Call and more pain.  A suggested doctor’s visit aaaand more PAIN.

Monday wasn’t a good day for me. I woke up, got O to kinder and began to be very aware of some twinges in my lower back and belly. I was 27 weeks, 6 days pregnant, so it was MUCH too early for what I suspected these pains were. I had some extra symptoms going on, and a call to the state Nurse service, suggesting I see a doctor as soon as I possibly could got me a bit on edge. I sat around riding out the pain all day, managed to get O home and waited for B to come look after me.

At 4.30pm, the local GP couldn’t tell me whether I was in premature labour or not, and suggested I go home, rest and call an ambulance if the pain got worse. My GP isn’t my baby doctor, the nearest OB was an hour away at the hospital where I’m planning to deliver, so all I could do was nod miserably and go home.

B got home at around 5.30 after helping build a cool room all day. By this stage, I felt sure I was contracting. The pains were making me cry and squirm. I begged B to get O fed and have a shower, while I called my Dad and Stepmum to check they could come and take O in case things progressed...which they did. Fresh out of the shower, B was on the phone to the ambulance asking them to come and get us. I needed to go to the hospital. I was in pain, and I was scared, begging my tiny person to stay put.

The paramedics and my Dad arrived around the same time, and I half-listened to O trying to con Poppy into taking EVERY TOY SHE OWNS to his house, until she realised something was happening to me and came to watch them strap me to the stretcher. Her big, curious eyes. 

“ ‘Scuse me, Ambulance,” she addressed the Paramedic. I remember, because it made everyone smile. “Will my mummy come home to me tomorrow?”

The young female paramedic told my little one she wasn’t sure, but they were doing everything they could to make her Mummy better. This, coupled with the notion of my ride as an adventure (an idea cleverly orchestrated by Dad and Stepmum) was enough to reassure O, who waved and blew kisses before climbing into my Dad’s ute as the ambulance pulled out my driveway, a concerned B and a panicked me inside.

Things were slowing down now. Murphy’s Law always kicks me with ambulances. I’m in serious pain until they come, then I’m fine and I feel like a hypochondriac. Nevertheless, they took me the hour to my delivery hospital. 

I was taken straight into a delivery room. Examined, pressed, prodded. My little person was sitting breech, quite high up. I had bloods, swabs, the works. They were checking me over, reassuring me. Keeping me warm, keeping B calm. They reassured him that he could stay the night with me (he had no way home) and me that I wasn’t in labour. THANK GOD. But they were giving me some steroids to mature Diddy’s lungs, just in case. I was staying overnight, and I was having scans in the morning.

I didn’t sleep that night. My pain had stopped, my cheeky monkey was playing tricks on me, and I was feeling silly.

The next morning, my dad came and took B home, and I went for my scans, to see everything was fine. Then I was left to my own devices for a few hours, reading crappy magazines and writing questions I hadn’t yet asked the maternity clinic staff, birth plans and hospital bag lists.

At 5pm, they released me with a second steroid shot and instructions to REST!! Relieved, B and I hopped in the car and headed for home. A stop to see O, spending another night with Poppy so I could rest.

I’m not sure what to think now. Every twinge, every niggle scares me. I’m being told I need to be aware, and not to hesitate to go back. I’m getting the impression, with the steroid shots and the midwife who sat with me and gently suggested maybe I should get a few preemie-size grosuits, that we’ll be meeting our tiny person slightly sooner than anticipated. I’m packing my hospital bag now, my birth plan is sorted and I’m making sure things are ready as best I can, and that arrangements are made for O should I have an absence.

But today, I’m celebrating Thankful Thursday with Six By TheBay. I’m thankful that my little person stayed put, and is still in there. I’m thankful that when I was scared, and in pain, and needed to get to a hospital that it could happen. I'm thankful that I was looked after and checked over, not made to feel silly for my panic and pain. I’m thankful to be surrounded by family who took care of O, B and myself when we needed it. But most of all, no matter when my baby comes, by all accounts it’s a healthy bubba. I’m thankful that I’m breeding a healthy baby, and that I can fight to give that baby the best chance at a good life.

Wordless Wednesday: 26Week Maternity Photos

I'm lucky enough to name the amazing Jacqui from Miss J Media among my closest friends, which makes my access to awesome photography reasonably seamless.

I've been feeling big and bumpy, but not massive lately, so thought now was the time to get some maternity snaps done, before I refuse to get my gear off in front of a camera.
Here's the results:

Feeling Pretty - The dress was a gift and I just adore it!

B was so very, very happy to go the grope to protect my modesty

Trying very, very hard not to overbalance - lucky my thighs are like tree trunks!!

Jacqui works out of Shepparton in Country Victoria, and is so incredibly talented. You can find more of her work at her Facebook profile here.
For Wordless Wednesday, I'm linking up with Sakura Haruka, Twinkle in the Eye and My Little Drummer Boys. Join us?

Best Mother's Day EVER!

After four years of motherhood and five Mother’s Days, I can honestly, without hesitation, say that this year was the best I’ve had.

Watching my babies play the Wii. Quiet bliss

There were no extravagant gifts, no elaborate breakfasts in bed, no grand excursions. In fact, I was kind of lethargic and spacey for most of the day, but when I took stock at the end of it, I was smiling.

My first Mother’s Day was celebrated with jewellery (which I had bought myself), followed by O’s father receiving a call from his parents inviting him and O to lunch – not me. In fact, I was explicitly NOT invited, the removal of my daughter masked as ‘giving me a break’. I ended up at my own mother’s house in tears.

My second and third were 100% ignored by my then-partner. He told me I wasn’t his mother, nor the mother of HIS child, so it wasn’t up to him to celebrate with me. In fact, the second year we were together, he locked himself in his computer room for thirteen hours straight, then got confused when I expressed my hurt. Screw that dude.

Last year I worked a twelve-hour bar shift while my little girl spent the day with B. Because of this, I was awake early, home late, and far too cranky at missing the day with my princess to consider celebrating anything except finishing work!

This year, to me, was perfection. I woke up early and stoked the fire, then snuck back to bed before my husband and O were awake, and dozed back to sleep. I was woken by cuddles from my precious girl, who presented me with two handmade cards, Polaroid photos of her and her brother and a keychain with one of her drawings in it, created at kindergarten. B offered breakfast in bed, but I declined, because I wasn’t feeling great. I asked for some fruit to be cut up, and was given beautiful fresh apple and mandarin, which was exactly what I wanted – no weak tea, cold toast or overly-filling and over-topped pancakes. 

Yep, that's me! Best gift ever.

I had a ‘Happy Mother’s Day’ call from my stepson, L while I watched O and B play on the Wii and quietly read my book. I made what I wanted for lunch (chicken risotto) rather than bending to the sulks from O and making eggs, with B reminding O that today was ‘about what Mummy wanted’ I visited my mum, had dinner at my Dad’s place, came home with a child so tired she easily went to sleep and ended the day with a footrub  from my hubby, a welcome relief from the swollen ankles and sore heels of pregnancy. 

Risotto for lunch. Because that's exactly what I wanted.

I slept better than I have in months, totally content that I’d had the best Mother’s Day of my life, because to me the day isn't about gifts. It's about being reminded that my kids and partner love and appreciate the things I do to make their lives good. It's about knowing that (for one day a year) I can do what it is I want, even clean or cook if I feel like I want to. It's about time with family, and love from my babies. 

How did your Mother’s Day shape up? Was it the best yet? What did your best-ever Mother’s Day look like?

It’s Tuesday, which means I Blog on Tuesdays with Essentially Jess. Live it, love it.

FFS Friday: The Comeback Edition

I’m back in fine form this week for a little whinging action... strap yourself in!

I love Grumpy Cat much too much

This week kicked off with a bang. On Monday, prior to returning L to his mother’s after two weeks of school holidays, he put in a request to be allowed to take home some Zucchini Slice for school lunches...No FFS

I made said Zucchini Slice, bagged it up and it was taken with him. He greeted his mother with ‘My lunch is all set for the next 5 days! Tara’s made sure I get fed’...Obnoxious mofo...FFS

His mother wasn’t particularly keen on this, as I’d known she wouldn’t be, but I suspect my cherub’s turn of phrase will give me another good month in my position of AntiChrist...FFS

Tuesday, B and I discovered a call bar on our mobile phones...FFS

This, despite trying to arrange a payment plan to stop this happening, an option we were told ‘Telstra doesn’t offer’...FFS

When we spoke to someone Tuesday, we were told this kind of plan WOULD have been an option, but now that barring was in place we’d have to pay the full overdue amount to remove the bar...Oh FFS

I got rather...heated... with an operator, who hung up on me. We’re now waiting for our formal complaint to be processed... FFS

All this happened four days before payday, so it’s been very quiet in the Sanity household...FFS

Paying this bill out will bite into 60% of our grocery and fuel budget, so looks like a lot of Scrambled Eggs in our house for the next two weeks...FFS

O’s Daddy cancelled her weekly sleepover visit due to having the flu....Not a FFS

This meant that, instead of my Friday morning sleep-in, I was awake at the crack of 6.30 with a preschooler seeking breakfast...FFS

So I’m looking down the barrel of a Friday full of...FFS!!?!

It's a lovely day to link up for a whinge with Dear Baby G, the Queen of FFS!

Misery Loves Company

Little Miss O’s Daddy called me this morning. As soon as I saw the number on my phone screen, I knew something was up. He never calls me this early unless something serious is going down, meaning he won’t be able to have his time with his little girl this week.

‘Good morning, what’s up?’
‘Oh hi... Umm...I just wanted to let you know I have the flu.’

Yep, that’s something serious. For a big man, my ex catches the flu in the same manner as his 4 year old daughter. It knocks him around for quite awhile. 

‘Ahh no!!’ I said sympathetically, ‘So can I send our daughter to you so she can breathe it in and get over it quickly?’

I was joking. But it shows how much O’s Daddy adores having her that he did offer to have her regardless, he was just worried about her (and by extension her very pregnant mother) catching it.

I quickly assured him that he wouldn’t be having her, much as I knew he wanted to, because six months pregnant and fending off the flu wasn’t my idea of a party. I did, however, insist on putting the speakerphone on so he could let our princess know she wouldn’t be sleeping over at Daddy’s this week. (Not a hope in hell was I dropping this bomb!)

This revelation went over about as well as a racist joke. My little one was half dressed when I went in to her room, and when her Daddy said ‘I’m a little sick so we won’t be having a sleepover tonight’ her little face crumbled and she flung her arms around my neck, devastated little sobs emanating from somewhere around the boobal region.

I could hear my poor ex’s heart breaking, so I suggested if he was feeling up to it tomorrow that perhaps an hour or two in the park with his little girl might be ok? He hates missing out on the time with her, which I understand and am thrilled with, and it relieved me when he said that’d be great. O looks forward to her visits with Daddy all week. She knows when they’re coming up and by Wednesday my kitchen table is a mess of pictures ‘I drew of me and my Daddy’ so I didn’t want her missing that time completely.

With this idea in place, I reassured my ex that I’d deal with the still-sobbing preschooler, and hung up with instructions to let me know if he needed the good flu drugs.

Once off the phone, I cuddled my little girl and finished dressing her. Normally she does this herself, but disappointment had turned her into some kind of ragdoll hybrid. We discussed why she wasn’t able to go for a sleepover at her Daddy’s house, how Daddy had yukky germs making him sick and that we’d draw him a picture after kinder to take him and make him feel better. These suggestions seemed to help, but she wasn’t 100% convinced, so B took her in his arms and reminded her how much her Daddy loves her and how sad he was that he couldn’t see her tonight. He asked her if she wanted to be sick, which was met with head shakes, and then if she wanted to make the baby in Mummy’s tummy sick, which was met with much more emphatic head shakes.

Suitably reassured, though still visibly disappointed, I bundled my little girl into the car and took off for kinder.

At the gate to the kindergarten, precious O turned to me with a thoughtful expression on her face. 

‘Mummy, I’m sad because I don’t get to see my Daddy today’
‘I know, darling, but it’ll be OK, we’ll do something special tonight to make up for it’
‘It’s ok Mummy. I know Daddy loves me, and he’s sad too. So I’ll be ok.’

I’m so glad to see my child heartened by sharing misery with her father.