I Know It's Just a Number

If you know me, you may know that numbers have never really been my thing. I blame genetics and my mean first grade teacher who stressed me out with timed math facts tests, but that is another story. Anyway... numbers, I realize are an important part of our world. I have the utmost respect for mathemeticians, math teachers, statisticians, finance gurus, etc, but I have personally chosen to tune numbers out of my world whenever possible. I realize what a luxury this is since I have a husband who is very good with finance and figures. Please don't sic Suze Ormond on me.

Anyway...back to the convoulted original point of this story. Numbers hold little meaning for me. My husband has always been completely amused by the fact that I never seem to know how old I am. Once I hit 21, there seemed little point in keeping track any longer. My age started to seem slightly important again when I contemplated another pregnancy since all of the medical world has us women convinced we are best off birthing our babies before the age of 35. Back at Christmastime when I started to feel all broody, it occured to me that I am going to be 34 this summer, so I had better get cracking if we were going to have another baby. This came up when I discussed the subject with my husband. Obviously we felt compelled to "crack away" and got pregnant in January.... Are you still with me??

Anyway, last night in an effort to put off bedtime, Emma came and sat at my bedside and started telling me what a brilliant mom I am. Then the conversation somehow turned to, "How old are you, Mom, and how old is Dad?" Well, of course, I am going to be 34 this summer, so that means... Dad is six years older than me...he is going to be...40!?? Wait, no, that can't be right. My husband isn't about to be 40! I quickly calculated 2009-1970...

He really isn't about to be 40. He is going to be 39, and I am going to be 33...and that jerk never corrected me all those times I spoke about how old I thought I was. GEORGE!!! I found myself quite annoyed... as annoyed as one can be with her husband when he is folding everyone's laundry. "I wondered when you'd figure it out," was all he had to say for himself after allowing me to go on for months thinking I was a year older than I actually am. Seriously, you know this is wrong, and don't even side with him by saying that it's ridiculous that I don't know my own age. It's all part of my charm. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

What's Growing in the Garden?

For all of you back home who aren't able to witness my blossoming fabulousness, here is a photo of me and Sophie taken at Roath Park in Cardiff yesterday. (That is an ice lolly she is triumphantly brandishing. ) I am just about 20 weeks now, and have been able to put my worries to bed (mostly) for the past couple of days.

I know that worrying is completely un-productive as well as unhealthy, but it's also a very normal thing for a pregnant gal to do. So I am breathing and remembering that at this moment all is well, and no matter what happens, I am one very blessed person.

Yesterday was a lovely day. The four us went over to Roath Park and hired a boat to take out on the lake. We enjoyed rowing in the sunshine. I actually enjoyed watching George mostly do all of the rowing. I also enjoyed feeling the sunshine on my face and watching Emma and Sophie frolic around the gardens after our boat ride. They enjoy each other so much.

Today the sun is shining again, and I have no complaints. I will be enjoying the next few days off with the girls before they go back to school on Tuesday.

Hope the sun in shining on you wherever you are reading this!

Hottest Day of the Year!

Apparently yesterday was the hottest day of the year (thus far). This is a concept the Brits seem to be thoroughly obsessed with. We nearly reached 70 degrees Fahrenheit, and it was lovely. From the smell of things, I think everyone in our neighborhood had fired up the backyard barbeque (including us). The best thing about the day for me was lying on a blanket atop freshly cut grass in our backgarden. The girls joined me in the sunshine, and we enjoyed clever conversation, cheese, crackers and grapes. It doesn't get much better.

Later on in the evening our friends, the Collinses. joined us for a barbeque. I couldn't resist the opportunity to snap a few pics of the girls. Pictures taken in natural light are always the best. Today it is rainy again, but we are basking in the memory of the sun and holding out hope that it will return again later this week.

Emma in the garden

Sophie knows how to pose like a champ. Yep, she's a 'corn lover'!

Happy Memorial Day, friends!

Normal Scan!!

Today's scan showed that my cervix is within normal range...slightly on the short side of normal, but still normal. This is good news. Despite all of the contractions I had earlier, I continue to maintain at "normal." Even more encouraging is the fact that my contractions seem to have slowed down this week, and I am feeling lots of fetal movement in the evenings. And to answer your and Sophie's question: No, I don't know if it's a boy yet! (Notice I didn't say "boy or girl" as everyone, Sophie included, is convinced I am carrying a boy. Me, I don't much care. Really. I will be happy with any healthy baby.)

The kids have the week off school next week, and George has the week off work as well. We are all looking forward to this. No big plans really. We are just hoping for sunshine and an un-irritable uterus.

Happy Memorial Day weekend to my American friends!

Update

Yesterday I went in to the ante-natal clinic where I met with a consultant, not MY consultant, mind you, but a nice consultant nevertheless. It was actually the same consultant I saw the first time I went into the ward panicked about the contractions I was having, so she remembered me and my drama. (At this point, I am starting to wonder if I will ever actually get to meet "my consultant," or if this even matters at all. Did I mention there's no place like home?)

I brought in my previous maternity records which she seemed only mildly interested in, but she did listen and agreed that perhaps I should be monitored more closely. Eureka! So I will be going in again on Friday for a scan of my cervix. I am very hopeful that the scan will reveal that all is closed tight and that there is no need for concern. Then I plan to heave a great sigh of relief and relax a bit more... or even stop relaxing SO much! That is my plan. Whatever the case, I am happy that a British medical professional has agreed that I might need a little extra monitoring due to my medical history, and this feels big.

I will report back if there is any further news. Thanks to everyone at home and abroad who has been praying for me and making me feel so cared for!

Emma Carson, You Bring Me Joy!

It's always nice to reflect around the time we celebrate birthdays. This weekend (especially the part that came after the chaos of the birthday party), gave me an opportunity to savour our lovely girls. I felt especially endeared to the birthday girl since her big day was a reminder of how fast she's growing up and what a wonderful person she is. George and I did a good thing bringing her into the world!

Last night Emma was putting off going to bed by engaging me in conversations about everything under the moon. I can't say I minded too much. Late night (9 pm) conversations with Emma are one of my favorite things in the world. We started off in my bed with her reading me a story about Vikings. At one point we could hear Sophie crying from her bedroom. She had apparently bitten her tongue and was being well-tended to by her Dad. Emma stopped reading and said, "Just a minute, mom. I just really need to go and check on Sophie and make sure she is okay." I assured Emma that Dad had things well under control and that Emma didn't need to worry so much...to which she responded, "Mom, you just don't know how much I love Sophie. It's like she's the most precious thing in the world to me." After I recovered from my heart melting a bit, I told Emma that sounded just like how a mother feels about her children, and Emma replied, "Well, that's a bit different. I don't think I love her THAT much!" How blessed are the sibling(s) of Emma!

Next, after reading, we somehow got onto the topic of having babies and Emma wondered aloud whether our friend Jenny would be having a baby anytime soon. I think Jenny would be a fabulous mom, so I told Emma that I thought that would be great. Emma first apologised for what she was about to say, then came out with, "Well, I don't really want Jenny to get pregnant. She's so happy and jolly all of the time now, and if she gets pregnant, she'll be really grumpy like you. I would really hate that for Jenny." I was too amused to be offended. After all, Jenny IS pretty doggone jolly, and hormones and morning sickness are bound to affect that!

Then...stalling a bit more for bedtime, Emma reminded me that I had told her years ago that we could start reading Harry Potter when she was eight. "That's only one more year now!" I agreed that she would most likely be ready for the first year of adventures at Hogwarts in about a year, but we might have to proceed slowly as the books start to get more advanced as they progress. "Advanced!!??" She asked, "What does that have to do with anything??"
It turns out Emma didn't quite know what the word "advanced" meant. I jokingly said, "Well, maybe you're not ready for Harry Potter after all." Emma didn't miss a beat and responded, "Give me a break, mom, I've only been seven for two days. I'll be ready."

I finally and reluctantly got her to bed before 9:30. This morning, however, she continued to make me smile. She came into my room and was whinging a bit about going to school. I reminded her that next week was half-term break and she'd have the whole week off school. "YES!!" she cheered, "It worked!! That's just what I wished for on my birthday candles. Wow, that's powerful stuff. Next time I will really have to think about it before I make my wish."

Yes, I know I've been going on and on, bragging about Emma. These stories are surely not nearly as interesting to you as they are to me, but I am a proud mom with a warm heart today, and for that, I'll not apologise.

Birthday Success

Emma's birthday has come and gone, and everyone has survived the turning of seven. Mark my words, let the record show...I will never have 13 seven year olds without their parents in my house again. It was a bit chaotic to say the least. The majority of the party games got thrown out the window. Thank heavens the sun came out and we could thrust them all out into the garden at intervals. Whew! Most importantly, Emma appears to have had a lovely time.

Instead of asking for presents, she requested that her friends bring donations for charity, and she was able to raise over 50 pounds which will be sent to Oxfam. We are proud of our first born. She is certainly a star.

Now I've just realized we will have another kid's birthday this year!! This one, however, will not require party games and fairy cakes...although if you feel compelled to send me cake, by all means, do so. And as I have been feeling more and more nudges and flutters, it is starting to feel more and more real. Please continue to keep me in your prayers. The further along I get, the more confident I feel, but prayers have never hurt me, so keep them coming.

Women are from Venus...Thank GOD!

Today has brought me some comfort in the form of female friends. Earlier today when I wrote, I was obviously feeling very burdened. Two friends stopped me at school and asked how I was doing...because they genuinely wanted to know. It wasn't just making polite conversation but genuine concern. I hesitantly unloaded a bit of my grief and found myself feeling a bit lighter. Throughout the day at home I took it pretty easy. The day is pretty much a blur. Later in the afternoon before going to get the kids from school, I received a call from my friend and PTA cohort Liz, who expressed her genuine concern and commiserated about the "hit and miss" business of maternity care with the NHS. She also offered up a good friend of hers who is on the senior staff at the local University Hospital. If, after meeting with my consultant next week, I find I am still feeling less that satisfied with my care, I am to call Liz, and she will put her medical friend on the case. Once again I felt a bit lighter.

Then at school another friend whom I hadn't seen in a while, stopped to wish me congratulations. She gladly listened as I allowed her to lighten my burden a bit more. Ah... I am feeling much lighter now just when I thought I was in the depths of despair.

Don't get me wrong. I love my husband and know he loves me, but he is a man, and therefore from Mars. Sometimes a girl doesn't want her problems to be fixed. She just wants to share the burden for a few minutes. Thank Heaven for little girls...and for full-grown ones too.

How I Know I am Stressed

Bear with me now… Have you ever had one of those dreams about needing to pee? In your dream you try to pee, but it just doesn’t happen. Or you are desperate to find a bathroom, and one never materializes. Finally you wake yourself up and realize that yes, you actually do need the toilet. Sometimes, if you are my husband, you occasionally don’t wake up before relieving yourself, but we won’t go into that.

Well, last night, in the middle of the night, I found myself in a similar situation. Only this time I dreamed that my life was full of stress. The headteacher at Emma’s school was screaming at me about how I had improperly handled my job. (I think I was a teacher again in my dream.) Then, in my dream, my husband was screaming at me about being a complete failure. (You all, of course, realize that this was a completely far-fetched dream at this point.) I found that my dream-self was desperately on the verge of tears. I wanted so badly to weep, sob, break down, etc. My dream-self feared that I would appear very weak if I allowed the tears to really flow, so I held back. Finally I awoke and looked at the clock. It was 3 a.m.-ish… And I let the tears actually come, consciously. I cried and cried all over my pillow while everyone else slept. Then I got up, went to the bathroom and went back to sleep.

This has never happened to me before. It made me realize that if I don’t let it out while I am conscious, my stress emotions will find a way of expressing themselves. I didn’t sleep all that well for the rest of the night. At some point I became aware of the fact that Sophie had joined us in bed and was sleeping very nearly on top of me. Then, of course, the sunlight came streaming in at some un-Godly hour and stimulated my brain to wake up even though I was exhausted.

See…didn’t you like it better when I just decided not to blog when I was feeling negative? I feel sure that reading this has brought joy to no one. The positive note is: I have now managed to actually book a real appointment with my official obstetrical consultant for next week. I am hoping that talking to her will allay some of my fears and concerns. Until then, I will be here, lying low.

Very Superstitious

Being pregnant is a worrisome time for me as much as I hate it. I know for most it is a joyous and exciting time, and it is certainly that for me as well, but it also brings on big-time stress and worry because of my "issues" and my nature. I had five years to forget about the worry. Back at Christmastime when we were looking at all of our kids' old baby pictures and feeling all broody, no one remembered the worry, but it's here again with this pregnancy.

That is part of the reason I haven't been blogging as much. I don't want to write about my fears. You see when I am pregnant, not only do I worry more, but I also become more superstitious. I feel that committing my fears to paper...or the Internet...or even saying them aloud gives them power, and right now, they don't need to be any more powerful. I am continuing with positive thoughts and daily affirmations (Stuart Smalley style, of course) and am also trying to listen to my "Baby Stay In" hypnosis track. But I am not writing about my daily woes. Who would want to read about that anyway?

Trips to my local midwives generally make me feel worse because they only remind me that I am far from home and cannot expect the same level of care or any sort of prophylaxis here, so I have to take this on as a personal challenge. I must take control of my own body and will it to behave. A little prayer never hurt either.

On a much more positive note, I have felt the first few nudges and rumblings from the baby this past weekend, and that has to be the best thing about being pregnant. Emma and Sophie are both desperate to feel the baby move as well, but I'm sure it will be a few more weeks before they can. For now it is my private joy.

There have been several times throughout this week when one of the kids has said something really funny that I thought I should write down. Of course, by the time I go to write it down, "baby brain" has taken over and I have completely forgotten it. Just yesterday I was asking Emma, "What was that really funny thing you said just now in the car??" She, of course, didn't realize she had said anything funny ever.

The only thing I do remember happened on Saturday. Sophie was very tired and grumpy, so I took her upstairs and curled her hair all over with the curling tongs. By the time I was finished she looked like Shirley Temple...or toddler Emma. She looked at herself in the mirror and said, "Wow! I look like a SEXY Grandma!"
"What??" I asked, having NO idea what she was talking about. She thought for a moment and then responded,
"Wait, no...I mean a Hot Mama."
Don't you love the way kids think?

Hope you all have a great week. The sun is shining here now and I am not having any contractions, so it is a great day!!

Who Says I'm Irritable??

Celebrating the finale of Harvey...

"Let them eat Harvey Cake!"

Yes, I know my blog has suffered. I have had a lot going on the last couple of weeks. Fortunately Harvey was a big success for the most part. George and Emma came to see the show on Friday evening. (Sophie got to have her favorite babysitter, Sinead, all to herself.) During the intermission Emma came backstage and told me that she was really loving the show and that seeing it was actually "warming her heart." She also confessed that she was very excited about the fact that it was only halfway over and already past her bedtime. It is still the case that our dear Emma requires much less sleep than the average bear. She hung in there at the after-cast-party until 11:30 pm and enjoyed eating nearly all of Harvey's whiskers.

Earlier this week, I had a bit of a panic. I had been experiencing a lot of strong contractions. With my history and the fact that I have barely just settled into the second trimester, dread swept over me and I was off to the hospital with Emma and Sophie in tow. I was honestly assuming the worst. Thank God everything was fine with baby and me... no signs of cervical change. Emma said prayers over my tummy, and I also know I have family and friends saying prayers for me across the sea. Keep them coming, please.

My recent experience in hospital has also reminded me that I am indeed not in Kansas anymore. The protocol in the UK for treating my condition (uterine irritability--such a wonderful description) is quite different and much less proactive than the approaches my Stateside doctors took. So I will be taking it upon myself to be more personally proactive. I think I know my pregnant body pretty well the third time around. So...it's lots of self-imposed rest for me. This is not nearly as nice as it sounds. (There comes a time at which you realize you've seen nearly every episode of Diagnosis Murder.) I am also looking into hypnotherapy. There is a hypnosis CD recommended for women with preterm labor called "Baby Stay In." I 've always been curious about hypnosis, and I figure it can't hurt. There are also all sorts of new age, natural healing websites out there that recommend fantastic-sounding things like: False Unicorn Root, Raspberry Leaf Tea and Crampbark to soothe my condition. These will require a bit more research on my part before I dive right in.

I think I have told family and friends that my goal for delivery is September 29th. This would put me safely at 37 weeks of gestation. It seems so far off now, but hopefully I'll get there day by day.