terrifying ignorance

I have been more or less glued to the BBC news website over the last 2 days, watching sections of our society break down with no semblance of law and order.  Normally I don't get very affected by the news, I tend to employ my doctor emotional detatchment skills (rightly or wrongly), but the riots have really upset me.  This is probably partly because I am pregnant again, and rather emotional all the time, but also it seems like the kind of thing that ought to be happening somewhere else, not in England, especially my home city of Liverpool.  It's also just so sad to see people terrified, people losing everything and people dying for no particular reason that I can fathom.  These things would almost seem more understandable if there was at least a reason, an actual protest about something that degenerates into violence is easier to understand than just sheer destruction and looting because people think they can get away with it.

The most terrifying thing about the whole situation for me has been listening to the one or two snatched interviews with "rioters" on the BBC website, found here and here.  The young people interviewed betray a shocking lack of any moral compass at all or even any logical train of thought.  Eg. "it's all about the govenment isn't it - the Conservatives whoever they are, it's all about showing the police we can do what we want."  Or the young men who claimed that young girls looting was wrong, if someone broke into their own house that would be wrong, but for them to be looting was ok - well not ok, but they were going to do it anyway, it was the government's fault because they couldn't stop them.  There was no real anger here, not even any clear idea of who they were rebelling against, no justification at all, but just a sense that if nobody would stop them, they would do whatever the hell they liked.  I found it chilling to listen and to think - has anyone ever even spent half an hour one on one with this child, teaching them about personal responsibility, or what society is, or any kind of empathy, or even how to think about something?  Or did they just decide not to listen?  I do believe that there is "a darkness in the heart of man", as Geoff blogged about here, and I do believe that those involved in the rioting should take the full consequences of their actions - any attempt to exonerate people because they come from a deprived background seems misguided, but listening to these kids made me wonder - how can so many people be growing up to think (or rather not think) like this?

You know you've turned 30 when...

Slightly distressed today to find that the annoying adverts at the side on Facebook which normally want to tell me about how to have a flat belly and how to entertain my kids have changed slightly.  I have always presumed they are based on my demographic information and (hopefully) not my profile picture.  However, my demographic information has recently changed to that of a 30 year old, and here are the adverts I have today..

1. FREE Garden birds CD.  "joyful birdsong to help you recognise and enjoy your garden visitors".
2. Purchasing courses.  "study at home.  Chartered Institute of Purchasing and Supply Courses"
3. SHOCKING Wrinkle-therapy "52 Year Old Mother Looks 39 - Dermatologists are Scared and don't want you knowing this skin secret!"
4. Patio awnings from £75 "you don't have to spend thousands to get a great quality garden awning."

I'm sorry - was I 30 or 50?

Skip to my Lou

For various reasons, I have recently been trying a bit more seriously to lose some weight, and have succeeded in so far getting 9lb off since Christmas.  I am now back to pre-mr moo weight (only took me 2 and a quarter years!)  Inevitably this has involved getting more active.  It's surprising how hard it can be to exercise with a toddler around - the buggy is now protested against most of the time, so I can't do a brisk long walk very often - more a slow short walk while restraining a small person with one hand, and with regular breaks to look at stuff like other people's gardens, snails, diggers etc.  Swimming - well that involves me standing in one spot while mr moo "swims" and I hold onto him, exercise DVDs cause boredom before we've got through the warm up, jogging...well jogging has never happened and probably never will.  So recently I've taken up skipping.  Apart from the obvious disadvantage of looking a little like I'm about to put pigtails in my hair and break out into some kind of rhyme about banana splits or double dutch, I think it may be the perfect exercise for mums of toddlers.  The rope cost me a grand total of £2.99 for one thing, so the cost per use will hopefully be pretty low.  The exercise itself is very high intensity so quite an efficient use of time - currently doing 60 jumps at a rapid rate will have me panting for about 3 minutes, although hopefully that will improve.  The skipping rope can easily be put down to go and retrieve a ball, break up a fight, wipe a nose etc and picked up again 2 minutes later.  The best advantage of all, though, is that the skipping rope can easily be used in the playground, the garden, my consulting room at work when my patient is late, etc etc.  I started off with a mum friend in our local park playground while the boys played together and we took it in turns to skip and run around after them.  It worked really well - I can see us starting a craze.  Maybe it can become the latest "yummy mummy" thing to do and I can work out some way to sell super stylish skipping ropes and motivational DVDs and somehow make my millions.  Or maybe the whole schoolgirl with pigtails image is just too much to get over?

The joy of complaining

My recent episode of uncharacteristic behaviour began when out shopping with mr moo (my 2 year old).  Walking past a menswear shop in our local shopping centre I noticed in the window, about 1 metre off the ground, an advert to win a "lads holiday in Ayia Napa" featuring a picture of some large and probably enhanced breasts, with strips of fabric about an inch wide covering them (no face was involved in the picture).  I saw mr moo clock the picture as well, and saw him think about it for a couple of seconds, but I don't think his vocabulary was up to framing the question in his mind.

I felt immediately angry.  Mr moo has seen breasts quite a lot of times, given that I get dressed with him around, and there are a lot of breastfeeding mums in our friendship group at the moment (and that I breastfed him until he was 14 months, but that was a very long time ago in his world).  He has recently felt the need to point out "mummy's boobies" when he sees them, but then he also likes to point out "mummy's drink, daddy's drink, my drink" at the dinner table.  I've been trying, by my actions and words to let him know that breasts are a natural part of a woman, private, but nothing to be ashamed of, and primarily designed for feeding babies (although I don't have much hope that last lesson will last him past puberty.)  I'm not ready for him to see the objectification of women, the lust and sexualisation of our culture that I'm sure will impact him all too soon.

But I kept walking, chuntering to myself in my mind about the irresponsibility of the advert and its placement.  It was on the way back that the uncharacteristic moment came to me.  Why, I wondered, was I internalising this anger and disquiet?  If everyone who was offended by this picture walked past without saying anything, it would just stay there, but it was quite likely that a quick comment to the management would make a difference.

Taking my moment of bravery/insanity/becoming my mother in both hands, and mr moo in both arms so he wouldn't make the encounter worse by running away at the crucial moment, I walked up to the middle aged man rearranging clothes on  the sale rack, and asked for the manager.  It turned out he was the manager, so I turned on my nicest smile and politest manner and explained that as a mum, I found the picture inappropriate and especially its position at children's eye level.  He was unphased, and said "oh yes, we've been told to tone it down a bit when we start getting complaints."  I thanked him and walked away, feeling encouraged that he was open to feedback, but wondering why the shop felt it best to push the boundaries of public "decency" as far as it possibly could, rather than just trying not to offend in the first place.  However, I suppose the obvious answer to that question is ... to sell stuff to men.

Today was the first time I've been back there, and, to my glee, the advert has been moved up the window, and the picture now shows three relatively clothed women, including faces!  However, I'm a bit concerned that the immediate success of my first attempt at this particular brand of complaining will seduce me gradually on down this path.   Maybe by the time mr moo is 15, I'll be the kind of toe-curlingly excruciating mother who complains loudly in public about the manners, morals and grammar of complete strangers, causing him to be traumatised for life.

Perfect Mother of the Day

Think I should definitely have an award for my "performance" today - washing done and hung out, favourite teddies, blankets and cars washed and cleaned ( to eliminate lingering conjunctivitis germs), child offered healthy food including oily fish, porridge and 4 types of fruit and veg so far, child (more surprisingly) ate some of all food, child taken for a walk to post office (exercise, and conversations re letter boxes and diggers en route), child engaged in creative activity (painting), child had refreshing nap, dinner pre-prepared and mortgage payments adjusted.  And it's only 3pm!  Maybe I should stay at home and achieve things more often rather than gadding about seeing friends and going to toddler groups.  Less fights to break up too!

Disclaimer: this post does not represent the normal state of affairs in the doctor/woman household.

Poem for Christmas Service

There's blood on the straw
on my face
on His hair,
my legs won't stop shaking
my belly is an empty wineskin
and pain blurs all the faces
except one.

He lies at my breast
looking at me,
so tiny, so immaculate, so real.
His wide clear eyes fix on mine
and I see eternity.

My heart is full of joy and triumph;
the women cry "a son, a son!"
as if I hadn't always known.
And I long to call Him mine
and I long to say "I made Him,"
but the shadow of Another holds me back.

The little face crumples;
His first cry
melts my heart to milk.
When I said "I am the Lord's servant,"
I thought that with this birth
my task would be complete

...now I realise it's only just begun.

Updates

Despite feeling I haven't got time in my life for even just the jobs that keep the house running, I have managed to find a little time (when I should be going to sleep but mr me is away) to update my blog a little. There has been a rather long pause in my posting, so thought I would list the "headlines" that have changed in my life since 2009.

• Baby blue is not really a baby now - he will be 2 next month! Can't believe how big he is and how much he has changed - of course this is quite predictable, but I still can't believe it. For this reason I shall have to change his name on the blog to either mr moo or the noodle. Mr moo possibly expresses him better, but may be easily confused with mr me? Will maybe try both and see how it goes.

• I finally finished my GP training in May, after much tribulation and stress over the winter. I now work 2 and a half days per week at a practice 12 minutes drive from my house which was one of my training practices. Some days I enjoy all of it, most days I enjoy some of it.

• I am busy. Busy, busy, busy. I spend a lot of time trying to streamline my life so I save time for myself. But better not talk too much about this or I'll start whingeing.

• I have developed an addiction to charity and vintage shopping. My favourite recent purchase was a vintage dark blue chiffon evening dress with hand beading around waist and hips. I wore it to our church ball recently and felt fabulous.

• I have discovered how much fun having a toddler can be. Before having mr moo, I worried that I only really wanted a tiny baby and then would want to give it back.

• I have also discovered how draining having a toddler can be. Sometimes I feel like an expert diplomat combined with a disciplinarian. Spend a lot of time not managing to finish a sentence without having to break up a scuffle, wipe a nose, prevent an injury or perform "bumping along on the little red tractor" again.

Well that's all the news I can think of right now. I'd better go to bed, as mr moo is still on British Summer Time.

The first cut is the deepest

Today I took baby blue for his first haircut. He's not so much of a baby any more now that he's nearly 2, and I was afraid that this day would make him even less of one. I have in fact been putting it off for weeks, or rather months while mr me periodically said "he really needs a haircut now." This week I finally promised I would go, after baby blue had been mistaken for a girl several times.

I spent yesterday evening frantically taking photos, trying to capture the head of golden spiralling slightly out-of-control curls. Woke up today with a feeling of dread that I'd end the day with a short haired grown up boy. I was grateful to find the hairdressers was a small salon with only one stylist and no other customers. I was even more grateful when the kind young mum-of-two salon owner said "oh...look at his hair! you don't want it too short do you?"

Baby blue decided that nestled against my chest was the optimum position for a haircut, I was OK with that, and the wispy curls didn't take long to trim. Having thought I would have to lie down and take sedatives for the rest of the day, I was pleasantly surprised by the results. He still looks like a toddler, but slightly tidier and more male. I do miss the curls, but have kept a couple for sentimental purposes.

Back to School

You probably know the feeling. It's a very specific, nostalgic, optimistic feeling that only happened on one day per year. I'm certain the retail industry know the feeling, and use it perenially to advertise something or other. The type of weather we've been having lately - still sunny but with a slight chilly edge to it - always brings it back to me so powerfully.

You wake up earlier than usual to the sound of your alarm (or your mum calling you). The air feels a bit colder than the day before, maybe there's some dew on the cars and grass outside. Your new unspoilt uniform is hanging up waiting (instead of on the floor where you usually keep your clothes). Your bag is already packed, containing pencils with unbroken leads, fresh virgin notebooks, maybe a new textbook, a new pen, set of compasses, a clean rubber. You leave the house knowing that you are on time, tidy, and haven't forgotten anything at all. You will have a new teacher, maybe new classmates, no-one will remember how sad and stupid you were last term, or how much you got into trouble, or the pointless argument you had. In fact you can feel yourself morphing into a whole new person... Everything will be different this year...

A few weeks ago I was feeling quite disillusioned with myself. I fairly often wish I was the type of person who got things done, followed things through, and stuck to the high standards I set myself. (This is despite the fact that I have met a few of these types of people and generally they are not any happier than me - probably the reverse, because their standards are even higher.) In the practical world of keeping the house clean, getting DIY done and doing my tax return, and also in the spiritual world of staying close to God, praying regularly, fixing my mind on things that are not of this world, I fall short so often.

As I was praying about this I remembered something which is one of the most beautiful and releasing things about the Christian faith - whenever we ask, God can give us a new beginning. Through Jesus death, which paid for all of our messes, sins, mistakes and hurts, we can have a fresh start a thousand times a day if we need it. When we are forgiven, God looks at us and sees the righteousness of His Son. The tricky bit is remembering to use this amazing freedom. When I do, it's like every day is the first day of term...

I can't sleep and...

i am wishing that i didn't have to live life in chronological order. imagine if you woke up every day not knowing what part of your life that day would come from. i could wake up with butterflies in my stomach and think "fantastic - i must be just falling in love with mr me - there will be some perfect kissing today." one day i might have lost the use of my legs, and the next day discover i was 9 again, and spend the whole day running and dancing around. i might spend a day caring for baby blue through the chicken pox and be up all night with him, and the next day be 15 again and i could give my mum a big hug of appreciation for all the time she spent caring for me instead of wishing she wouldn't embarrass me. i might work a 12 hour shift in A+E and the next day wake up to find i had retired, and spend the whole day resting, reading, walking by a lake. i might be one day a widow, and the next be back with mr me, and greet him as if we'd been separated by death for years. any day i woke up and baby blue was still a baby i would be so thrilled to hold him in my arms as he was my tiny baby again, and no matter how hard the day and night were i would treasure every second.

I suppose this idea is a little like the concept behind "The Time Traveller's Wife" - and shows the sheer joy and privilege of a single day with our loved ones. Somehow it is very hard to live in that joy when you know that tomorrow will be "just the same". But it never is exactly the same. Living in time is the enemy of valuing the moment. Anybody else fancy my idea of a mixed up life? i suppose it might be a little bit hard to ever get anything done...

Warning: sentimental post coming up

I think I've finally understood one of the mysteries of being a mother. It's the trait that young people can't understand as they grow up and become independent - why their mother can't let go, can't let their babies grow up. "Time has moved on," the child reasons, "I've changed, why can't she accept that?"

It's because she's still caught in the magic of this fleeting time, the time I'm living through now. It's a time when tiny hands come up around your neck and cling to you, when huge clear blue eyes gaze up at yours with total trust, when a tiny warm body snuggles into yours, sucking nutrition, growth, life from you, when a wave or a pincer grip can make you so proud you can hardly speak, and when a little face splits into a smile of pure delight at the sight of your face in the morning. It's such an unspeakably precious time, and it's over so fast, no wonder mothers say, "But s/he's still my baby..." I suppose the only way to learn to let go is to remember that they never were ours, they were only lent to us for a short time.

Baby Blue greets his adoring public

I have decided that I should become a nomad and live in an extended family community. Actually this is not true. But over the last week I have been sorely tempted. We spent 3 days back in Liverpool, where both my parents and my in laws live, over the Easter weekend. Baby blue behaved like a little cherub almost the whole time. There were lots of new things to look at, dribble on and put into his mouth. There were scores of people desperate to be the next one to cuddle him, play with him, show him the flowers in their gardens and put him back to sleep. I love that he is so sociable and happy to be passed around (until the separation anxiety kicks in in a few months' time), but I am slightly distressed that everybody now thinks he is a fantastically easy baby and I am generally moaning about nothing when I complain that he can be clingy, bored and grumpy.

Since coming home, obviously, he has been clingy, bored and grumpy. But to be fair to the boy, I've had some empathy training over the last few days. I've had a nasty infection in the gum over my impacted wisdom tooth, and it's surprising just how grumpy a bit of toothache can make you. He's been a lot more settled today, probably because I didn't stop moving - 10am coffee at a friend's house, followed by Ikea and lunch there, followed by another coffee in Borders with another friend, followed by the doctors' and the pharmacy. He just likes new places. Maybe he's going to be an explorer...

negative voices

It all started this morning when a friend dropped by to lend me a baby door bouncer... My elderly next door neighbour said hello to her and her 1 year old daughter, and she mentioned that it was a lovely day for gardening. He then said pointedly to me, "Yes, did you hear that? it is a lovely day for gardening."

Now our next door neighbour is a retired man (normally really lovely), and obsessed with his garden. As far as I can tell, he spends most of every day out there, despite his fairly advanced lung disease, and it is always pristine and beautiful in every season. Our garden, on the other hand, is a little rough around the edges. It has a wild unmown section at the bottom, which is a deliberate choice to give bees etc some habitat, but I sense he's not too keen on that feature, since some weeds grow there. The beds mostly have easy care perrenials in, because that's all I had time for at the best of pre-baby times. And ok the lawns haven't been mown yet this year, and things have gone a bit "to seed" since the pelvic pain kicked in halfway through pregnancy. But in my opinion it looks presentable. Compared to two and a half years ago when we bought the house and the plot was half rubble, half bed full of weeds, it's practically an oasis.

What was really disturbing was what that simple jokey comment, (which I may have totally read too much into), did to the rest of my day. I was instantly torn between paranoia (oh no he thinks I'm a terrible neighbour and inadequate housewife, gallivanting off to baby groups all week without attending to my own back garden) and anger (doesn't he understand what it's like having a new baby to take care of and how difficult it is to even keep the house clean?). I became unable to focus on the conversation with my friend after she came into the house, even though she dismissed him as a cheeky old man, and then I began to feel bad that I was coming across as scatty and absent and not in control. We talked a little about it at the end, and she said to me as she left "You're doing a great job. Hear that." But sadly this was no use. The negative comment had sunk into my brain somehow and was blocking all positivity out.

By the time I set off for my breastfeeding support group, my brain was a storm of negative voices. I spent the pleasurable sunny walk across the park thinking about my choices as a mother, and spiralling down into self-doubt. I began thinking about what will happen when I go back to work. Currently I'm planning to complete my training working half time, and then get a permanent job with even less sessions than that, if possible. I started hearing the (mostly male) voices of my colleagues at my current practice, who already feel that a year of maternity leave is an extended holiday and that I won't remember anything when I get back. Soft option they were saying to me, don't you care about your career? don't you want your son to go to private school like our children? don't you want to be a partner? Then my paranoid version of my parents voices started, You need to give your time to your child, they grow up so fast... and Christians I have read books by if you have the means you should give up work, God intended mums to look after their children. I began to feel that I will be giving both baby blue and my work less than my best. Next I began to worry what mr me was feeling about me, and projected onto him the view that I spend all week having fun and coffee with my friends, while he slaves away at work. Then I started wondering what other mums think of me, and whether they see me as a failure because baby blue is still in disposables and still has to be cuddled to sleep for his daytime naps. Then my childless friends - do they think I've turned into an antisocial baby bore? Then my own judgements on me - I forgot to clean his tooth again this morning, maybe he'll grow up with tooth decay... I didn't realise he was hungry for half an hour of grumpiness, maybe he's not growing as well as he should be because I don't feed him enough.... You get the general idea.

Fortunately the thought bog was stopped when I got to baby cafe by an hour of chatting to fellow mums, venting my frustrations re the next door neighbour, and feeling a little more that everyone's in the same boat i.e. we're all doing our best. This evening has cheered me up even more, with some affirmation from mr me, and an 8pm decaf vanilla latte at Borders, accompanied by some Marie Claire reading while he kindly manned the baby monitor at home. However, just typing out these frustrations and insecurities and (mostly unfairly attributed) opinions of others has already put a bit of a weight back into my chest.

What really annoys me is that I am still this vulnerable and weak. I was chatting with some church friends last week and bitching about the fact that most church seminars and days for women seem to keep reinforcing the same point - that you are accepted and valued by God, you are His daughter, His princess, you don't have to worry what others think of you. I implied that I'd got that by now, I'd heard it enough times, couldn't they move on to something meatier? Not all women were seething masses of insecurity, I said. Well maybe they're not, but sadly, and mortifyingly, it seems that I still am. I still need this message to sink from my head to my heart. I know this needs more prayer. I know I also need practically to learn to let little comments bounce off me, especially as society seems to judge mums for every choice that they make. I'll never be able to do everything and please everybody. I need to learn to be happy and confident in our family choices and in doing my best. But how? Does anyone have any more tips on how to beat the guilt, insecurity and self doubt that being a mum seems to exponentially increase?

the crest of a wave

I've had a few feelings of euphoria over the last two weeks, and when people ask me if I've had a good day I realise that I really have. Suddenly the pieces of my new life seem to be falling into place and I feel like I can balance again. Apparently it is quite common for this to happen when your baby is around 3 months, but I don't mind being common in this particular case.

For one thing, the feeding seems to have finally got easier, as everybody told me it would when baby blue was 3 weeks old (I didn't really believe them). Soreness is now rare, and I've managed to feed in various situations now - sitting cross legged on the floor, sitting in a folding chair, in a cafe, whereas before, I had to be either lying down or propped up by multiple pillows. This makes such a huge difference to my day, as I no longer dread each feed, I can enjoy the time spent with baby blue, and I don't dread going out of the house for longer than two hours.

Also making a huge difference to my state of mind is the improvement in baby blue's sleeping patterns. We've started over the last 2 weeks to try gently getting him into a routine, and it seems to be working relatively well. He now goes to bed at 7, meaning the evenings are free for grown up time, although he tends to wake and cry once or twice. I feed him before I go to bed, again at around half ten, and he now goes right through to 5 or 6am before needing another feed!! This is another thing that seemed totally impossible 6 weeks ago. It's amazing how much rosier the world looks when your sleep comes in 6-7 hour chunks rather than 2 hour ones!

Then there are the changes in baby blue which are happening every day. It's now possible to play with him, as he will grab a rattle, smile and laugh when I pull faces or sing songs, and have a conversation with me consisting solely of vowel sounds. Somehow the fact that I'm encouraging his development makes my day feel so much more productive than when I got to teatime and had only managed to keep him alive, fed and clean and maybe checked my emails and put a load of washing on. He can also entertain himself much better, meaning I might actually have time to hang the washing out as well as putting it in the machine!

I have discovered that getting out somewhere every day, even if it's just a walk to the Co-op, keeps me sane, and I am blessed with knowing several other new mums, so I'm rarely short of someone to have coffee or lunch with. I've been going to a breastfeeding support group, which has really helped me, and I've also started postnatal Pilates and baby massage classes, which are good fun, and have helped me make a few new friends. Today I even went to a special baby-friendly showing at the Hyde Park Cinema in Leeds. It was a little difficult to hear the movie at times! The moment when a gunshot went off in the film also caused a little bit of commotion among the babies present. But it was really great to be at the cinema again.

I'm sure within the next few weeks there will be more testing times, when baby blue starts teething, or starts waking again as he gets more hungry, when he starts rolling over and I have to start watching him like a hawk... But it's good to know that actually, I love this time, I love being a full time mum just now, and I've come through so many of the difficult things. I know if there are more difficult times, I'll be able to come through them as well, with help from God, mr me and my friends and family.

doctor/woman/mother

I've taken a long time to get around to this post, and I'm still not quite sure what to say. Everything sounds like such a cliche. On 29th November 2008 I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy after 53 hours of contractions and 17 hours of established labour. I didn't realise just how exhausting, painful and draining it would be. Classically though, as soon as I heard his cry and knew he was OK, everything else was forgotten in the wonder of meeting our surprisingly clean, deliciously warm baby boy with his huge dark blue eyes. I think I shall here call him baby blue, as that's one of my many nicknames for him. He has changed our lives forever, of course, as babies do. We are both head over heels in love with him and can spend hours just watching his face. He can get me up four times in the night (as he did last night), leaving me totally exhausted and grumpy in the morning, but one big smile as I get him dressed melts my heart completely.

Some things have been (and still are) so hard, including the slow torture of sleep deprivation, both me and baby blue getting the hang of breastfeeding, getting used to the changes in my body, the sheer insane wash of emotions that swept over me in the first couple of weeks... I found the huge shift in my identity and thought processes a bit of a shock, as I got accustomed to being a life support machine and being tied so closely to this tiny dependent demanding little person. At the moment being a doctor seems so far away, and even remembering to be a woman requires a little focus and time to myself. Mostly I'm just a new mum - worrying about doing everything just right, fighting to get myself enough rest and down time, overcome by this new love, and convinced that this little boy is the most perfect in the world. I am desperate to just have a bit more predictability to my life, and to be able to leave him for a few hours, and simultaneously aware that I should savour every second of this time, which will never come again. So forgive me if I don't post very often, but I'll try to keep you a little bit updated. But mostly I'll be wrapped up in my son for a while...

Highs and lows

The best things about being pregnant:

• I have loved feeling the movements of the baby and how they remind me there's a whole other person inside me!
• I really really am going to have a baby!
• People telling me I look great (although suspect they may be just saying what you're supposed to say to pregnant women)
• A good excuse for resting, asking for help and generally doing what I want to.
• Lots of presents.
• Closeness to mr me and having him look after me.
• I've had quite a peaceful, placid state of mind since the end of the first trimester (most of the time).
• Amazement at what my body can really do.
• Constantly being offered chairs, waved across the road etc
  
• Finally the ultimate excuse for going into mothercare and cooing over booties.
• The prospect of a year off work.
• People's kindness in helping us out with all sorts of things.

And the worst things...

• How I felt for the whole of the first 3 months! (ie exhausted, nauseous, vomiting, emotional and a little depressed)
• People who feel it is socially acceptable to comment on your size, eg "aren't you big?" "how many have you got in there?" etc.
• Busybodies. Everybody has some advice to give, even if you show no sign of wanting it.
• Getting the same comments all the time. "I expect you're all ready now then aren't you?" NO! I'VE BOUGHT 3 BABYGROS AND THAT'S IT! I'M A TERRIBLE MOTHER! or "do you know what you're having? what do you think it will be?" ERM...A BABY PERHAPS?
• Symphysis pubis dysfunction. It's a nasty condition that gives you pelvic pain on certain movements, especially turning over in bed.
• Being tired all the time, and therefore less able to sort everything out and make a perfect nest like I want to.
• Heartburn. boo.
• Becoming suddenly unable to talk about anything else and worrying that I've turned into a baby bore.
• Fear of losing friends/ independence/social life etc.
• Fear of labour
• I've been weirdly inward looking, and haven't always felt as sociable as usual. Less urge to write this blog as well, leading to very infrequent posting - sorry.
  
• Having to think about everything I put in my mouth. Am seriously wanting 2 glasses of wine and a plate of sushi!
• Feeling that my body's not my own any more.

However, it will all be over soon and then my life will change forever...

After two years of work...

The garden when we bought the house in 2006...


And today, after much work by myself and help from friends and family. I think it's not too bad for a girl who never lived in a house with a garden before!

Pluto?

Interesting conversation occurred at coffee time in the doctors' room today. There were 4 male GP partners and myself in the room, and 2 of them were having a long and involved conversation about the practice nurses, and problems that keep erupting with them and communication issues. Here is how it went:-

Partner 1: "What you've got to remember is that men are from Mars, women are from Venus..."

Partner 2: (pantomiming a secret nod towards me) "Careful, there's one in the room. And she's got pregnancy hormones...watch out!"

Partner 1: "No that doesn't count; she's a doctor."

***************************

So where am I from? I'm confused.

When I was 26...

I was going to try to do this each year for my birthday. Oh well, I missed that slightly, but may as well fill you in on all the things I did for the first time last year...

...rode my first horse.

...resuscitated a newborn baby for the first time

...took my first trip to America.

...had my first ultrasound scan

...attended a 90th birthday party for the first time.

...had my first day at the races.

...took my first membership exams.

...danced with a soldier for the first time.

...bought my first proper makeup that cost more than £5 per item. In Bloomingdales!

...had my first midwife appointment.

...sanded a floor.

...had my first bout of sciatica.

...took my first yellow cab.

...bought my first tube of eye cream.

...went off chocolate!! (briefly)

...conceived our first child!

a new adventure

I've been thinking about how to write this post for a long long time now. Far too long in fact, and I don't blame everyone if they've given up on me and assumed I've gone back to live entirely in the real world. I have some exciting news that has been rather too long delayed...

I am enceinte, gravid, expectant and fecund. I am with child. I have one in the oven. I am knocked up, in the family way and up the duff. In fact, we are going to have a baby in December.

My reasons for not blogging so far may be poor, but I'll make my excuses anyway. For the first 12 weeks it was not public knowledge, I felt hideous and ill all the time, and I couldn't settle myself to believe I wouldn't have an early miscarriage til I'd seen the 12 week scan and knew everything was fine. If I had been able to blog about it during that time, I think I would have sounded rather morose and depressed about the whole thing. Pregnancy seemed to mainly involve vomiting, having no energy to spare for anything but work, and being told lots of things I shouldn't do. None of it really felt real, even though we'd been wanting a baby for some time.

Since then I don't have such a good excuse, except that suddenly it all became very hard to encapsulate into words. Also I have been going to bed uncommonly early, due to feeling wiped out after a day at work, whereas late at night was when I usually used to blog. However, I had a week of leave last week, during which I slowed down enough to look at clouds, lie in bed feeling my growing bump, and think about things a little bit again. I also felt the baby moving for the first time, like a fluttering inside me, or like the feeling that I've just left my stomach behind on a rollercoaster. The bonding has been a bit slow to get started, but suddenly I'm really genuinely excited, and starting to feel how strong my love is for the tiny scrap of a thing growing inside me. So I thought it was about time I shared my news with you. Forgive me for taking so long.