#MeAndMine - A Family Portrait (February 2014)

Confession time!

You know what I'm going to say, right?

Yes. I took this photo yesterday.

On my phone.

A 'selfie'.

I know.

Epic fail!

Although I do have good reason. After the trouble we've been having with MC lately I had decided that this week (it's half term here) I was going to spoil her. I had each day planned out pretty much. Even including a day when I was just going to go out with her, have lunch, let her choose a new outfit and take her to the cinema to see the new Tinkerbell movie. A real girly day.

It all went out the window.

Matt and I were at a wedding on Saturday and MC became really poorly Saturday evening whilst staying with my parents. She didn't get any better and Monday she was even worse so her half term started with a trip to the doctors. A viral stomach bug coupled with a chest infection (needing antibiotics) which was seeing her cough uncontrollably and being so sick at the same time. I knew she was seriously poorly when she just wanted to stay in her bed in a darkened room. With the antibiotics and some TLC, I'm happy to report she's feeling much better (can't you just tell by the photo!) as of yesterday. But our half term plans have been snatched away from us and that makes me sad for my little girl.

She deserved a special time.

However, I've savoured the extra cuddles and downtime with her - I haven't savoured the sleepless nights but I've dealt with them as they are part and parcel of being a parent.

This week Matt has been working from home all week. It's been such a relief to have him here but I had planned for us all to have a couple of hours out together, as a family of four, one day. THAT was when I wanted to capture our Me and Mine photograph.

It wasn't meant to be.

As this post goes live I'll be preparing to travel to Kent with Susanne and Lisa where we'll be staying overnight. We are all attending Matilda Mae Remembers on Saturday morning.

As much as this week has been tough, I've stayed positive because I know just how lucky I am.

#MeAndMine - A Family Portrait (September)

September has been an up and down month.

I haven't really got much to report so I fear this months Me & Mine is quite poor.

For those who don't know, I had a serious case of food poisoning which, in total, took me almost 2 weeks to recover from. This has meant that a lot of our plans for this month have been pushed back.  Matt was amazing whilst I was ill. He took good care of me and looked after the children whilst still working - which wouldn't have been possible without the help of my parents.

It was Matt's 37th birthday on the 12th but he was away with work so we planned on celebrating when he got back which, incidentally, was the day before I fell ill.  We had plans for fun filled weekends which had to be cancelled and then we found ourselves at the end of the month with very little to show for September.

Thankfully the weather was kind to us this weekend just gone (I'd totally missed the weekend previously which was warm and sunny being laid up in bed) and yesterday we headed out on a family adventure exploring the fields at the back of our new house. It was just nice for me to get out of the house as a family of 4 and be able to enjoy the fresh air for a while.

My Nikon camera seems to have stopped working (yes, I'm slightly angry but that's another story) so this was a capture on my iPhone whilst we were out exploring. You'll notice we have an extra family member this time. Del The Welsh Dragon. She was visiting us for the weekend from MC's school so we've had to take pictures of our weekend adventures and MC and I are going to sit and write and draw about the weekend in 'Del's Diary'.

This weekend was also TC's 18 month birthday. I can't believe how time is flying. It doesn't seem all that long ago since he turned 1 and now, here he is half way to being 2. I'm forever thankful for each day that he's here with me.

It's my birthday in less than 2 weeks and we also have a Day Out With Thomas planned in October so hopefully next month will be a good one.

Head over to Lucy's lovely blog and check out more Me & Mine posts...

Baking - What Mary Berry Doesn't Tell You

As this post goes live, millions of wannabe bakers across the U.K. will be sat watching The Great British Bake Off. Me included!

Source

Baking.

A simple word.

Eggs.

A simple food.

Simple and nutritious - packed with protein and minerals.

Eggs.

They now scare me a little.

You see, eggs have taken a whole week from my life. Well, if I'm being honest, food poisoning has taken a whole week from my life.

Food poisoning is the worst thing ever.

I can honestly say that I've never felt so ill in my entire life. Apart from maybe mastitis but I was over the worst of that in a couple of days tops. No, food poisoning, wiped me out to my bed for a whole week.

At first I thought it was caused by a takeaway curry I'd eaten that night, but no.

The innocent act of baking resulted in 6 days in bed, two phone calls from doctors, two trips to the doctor, a hospital visit at 1am, 2 injections in my ass and 5 days without any food at all.

I was also off social media.

*plays highly dramatic music*

Yes! It was that serious!

*shocked face*

It may sound overly dramatic but those who saw me at my worst (only Matt, my Sister and my parents) will know how bad I actually was. I was weak and teary. A wreck. In agony. Unable to eat, unable to get up but unable to sleep or do anything.

Yes, 6 days in bed.

Any mother will know this is serious. Us mums don't get ill. If we have flu we soldier on, we fight through it when all men fall to their beds complaining they're dying. "Even my finger nails ache!" they cry whilst we mutter under our breath, juggling 10 or more tasks.

Nope, this wiped me out good and proper.

So, what happened? Did I eat a dodgy egg?

No.

Did I eat raw egg? (I know you're all reading this thinking I licked the spoon whilst baking...how rude!).

No.

To be perfectly honest, I'm quite careful with eggs. I always wash my hands after breaking them and I never ever lick any cake batter if it contains raw eggs (I know, I'm so restrained!).

Just a short walk up the road from where we now live there's a great local farm shop selling a vast amount of fresh produce. It's lovely. I used to drive there from where we used to live to get fresh produce but now I'm lucky enough to live so close.

Friday 13th (how apt!) was the day before I became ill and I'd been busy as it was Matt's birthday on the 12th. I decided to bake him a sponge cake as he'd been away with work for his actual birthday and we also had his parents arriving the day after.

I got the freshly laid eggs from the farm shop and cracked them into the bowl.

I washed my hands.

I returned to the bowl to mix the cake batter.

Nothing wrong there you may say.

I'd cracked them into the bowl. That was my mistake.

The eggs were freshly laid. You know the sort? Straight out of the chickens backside, freshly covered in lovely chicken poop.

Even though I'd washed my hands I then returned back to the bowl to mix and grabbed the edge of the bowl.

That's it.

That's all it took to poison me.

Obviously my hands must have gone into my mouth at some point after that and the deed was done. Less than 36 hours later I was in utter agony.

Sadly, I'm old enough to remember old Eggwina Currie causing outrage in the late 80's. Since then I've always been well aware of how to handle eggs but obviously not enough. I guess I just never thought it would happen to me.

Over the past couple of days, since my recovery, I've heard from people who have also been told that you should always wash your eggs before use (but they never do) and people who lick the batter (naughty naughty).

I've had a couple of interesting conversations with our local environmental health officer and he said this type of food poisoning is common with bakers. Obviously the cake is fine but often the person who baked it becomes seriously ill from handling contaminated eggs. So all you budding Mary Berry's and Paul Hollywood's, take heed!

There you have it.

I wanted to blog about this to warn people to be more careful with eggs. Apparently if you're using 'fresh from the arse of a chicken eggs' then wash them first and break them with a knife or into a separate cup that can be washed straight away. There's something old Mary Berry doesn't tell you on the TV.

I wouldn't wish food poisoning on my worst enemy.

Serves me right for trying to be the domestic goddess I'm so very clearly not.

*runs off to buy shop bought cake*

#SilentSunday 82

Inspired by...

"It's Viral"

It's been one of THOSE weeks.

They seem to be happening on a regular basis at the moment.

Mini Cheddar has been ill.

Again.

I know I shouldn't moan as there are people who have children with long-term illness or special needs etc. but I need to vent a minor frustration.

Also, before I start, I would just like to point out that I have every respect for the NHS and it's staff. I think it's fantastic and, as a country we should celebrate it.

I also want to say that I totally respect working mums and how difficult it must be to cope with a sick child when you have to work etc. I really don't know how I would cope if I wasn't able to work from home when I choose.

But here goes...

MC was ill with a severe cough the other weekend. I kept her away from ballet class and off school for the Monday as she hadn't slept well the night before and, even though she wasn't running a fever, I knew a day off would do her good. She seemed to fight it off quickly and was back at school the next day and all that week. She went to ballet and a birthday party and everything was fine. At ballet class there was a little girl who was clearly very poorly. She looked so ill. She actually looked like she would pass out. She had a streaming cold and was coughing badly every 20 seconds. It was awful. She was coughing all over the other children and I cringed every time they were all holding hands.

2 days later MC suddenly started coughing severely. She was running a fever, looked dreadful and was off her food - not like her!

Great.

Her cough became so bad so quickly that Matt took her straight to the out of hours GP.

"It's viral", the doctor said after a quick check over "There's a lot of it about at the moment".

Those two words. IT'S VIRAL. Urgh!

A very pale MC in the doctors surgery

We knew that this is what we would be told as we've been here before. Knowing that there was nothing the doctor would do or prescribe for her we just did our best to 'cope' at home. Coping is difficult when you have a child that coughs every 10 seconds (and that is no exaggeration!). Coughing so badly she was screaming in agony and being sick.

She was off school and Matt was heading up to Durham overnight leaving me to cope with MC and TC. Thankfully TC is still (teething aside) the most chilled out and laziest baby ever *crosses EVERYTHING and touches wood a million times*.

A second night of no sleep followed but this time it was without a husband to split the nursing hours.

The next day MC didn't seem so bad as she managed to get a decent block of sleep early on in the morning while I was up giving TC his breakfast. She was still coughing badly but she showed glimmers of her normal happy self between the coughing fits.

That afternoon we tried to get a nap when TC went for his usual sleep. MC couldn't stop coughing. It got worse. She started being sick again and went downhill fast. Matt returned home mid-afternoon and I rang the GP to book an emergency appointment at our usual surgery.

The doctor had heard MC coughing from his room.

The problem with emergency appointments is you have to wait a long time and by the time we were seen she was burning up again.

He said "It sounds a bit like whooping cough and there's a lot of that around at the moment. An awful lot" and raised his eyebrows.

"But she was vaccinated against that as a baby" I replied.

He checked her records "Yup, you're right, she was".

Looking in her throat he said it looked swollen and nasty. Her tonsils were swollen too (although no white spots).

"She needs a dose of antibiotics" he said "I'll prescribe her Erythromycin which is what we would prescribe for whooping cough. She needs to take it every 6 hours".

23 hours after her first dose she started to come back to life.

I'm so glad because that night, just after that very first dose she was in a state. So much so that Matt started to say we should take her to A&E.

She's still coughing now but not anywhere near as often and she was able to sleep much better last night. Today she's been happily playing and her appetite has started to return too.

I know that dishing out antibiotics isn't healthy and people are building up resistances to them but sometimes they are needed. I seriously believe that sometimes doctors hold back unnecessarily because they don't want to be seen to be giving out drugs willy nilly. Having a severe cough when you are an adult is bad enough, nevermind when you're only 3 years old!

Also, to the little girl who was at ballet. I have a question for her parents. Why didn't you keep her at home? I get that she probably wanted to go to ballet. The other week MC was poorly. She still wanted to go to class but we kept her home. There were a few tears but it was for the best.

Only last week I was stood in the school yard waiting for the nursery door to open at 8.30am and the amount of children that were coughing constantly was terrible. There's so much of it about.

Due to someone not keeping their infectious child at home I've had to suffer having just 6 hours sleep in 60 and a daughter so poorly it's been heartbreaking at times. She's also been off school for the week missing out on her singing practice for her school nativity.

As Matt and I were poorly last Christmas I'm determined to have a happy and healthy one this year. If I could lock my children away for the next month to keep them germ free, I would but I fear this isn't the last time we'll be told "It's viral".

To Continue To Breastfeed Or Not To Continue To Breastfeed...

...that is the question I've had to wrestle with over the past week or so.

It's not been an easy decision to make.

Not in the slightest.

Those of you who read my post last week will know I got the dreaded mastitis. To say I was ill was a bit of an understatement - I felt horrendous. The antibiotics and the anti-imflammotories, although perfectly safe in breastfeeding, caused Tiny Ched to be seriously sickly. He couldn't hold any of my milk down so I was advised by the doctor to take a break from breastfeeding whilst on the tablets for a week.

I was heartbroken.

I'd breastfed TC for 7 months. In fact, it was the day before he turned 7 months that he started throwing up violently.

28th March 2012
A newly born TC
I can't tell you how much I love this little man
and I will always do the best for him

I think as soon as I realised I'd have to take a break that it would ultimately be the end.

Anyone who's breastfed and stopped, be it through choice or through force, it's quite an emotional roller coaster. I remember being extremely teary when I stopped breastfeeding Mini Cheddar 3 years ago - even though it was my choice to stop. My hormones were all over the place.

This hasn't been my choice though.

I know the mastitis wasn't my fault but I'm still beating myself up about it. A teething TC caused a cut on my nipple and that's how the bacteria got in. Couldn't be helped. It got hold of me in the night so the real damage was done by the time the excruciating pain woke me at 5.30am.

Anyway, before I ramble on and on, I've decided not to continue to breastfeed after this break.

There, I said it.

I've absolutely loved breastfeeding TC - my breastfeeding experience (mastitis aside) has been wonderful and so it's been a really hard decision to stop. I'm okay when my mind is taken off of it but when I'm alone, tired or just having cuddles with TC my heart aches (as well as my boobs!).

I could try and re-establish breastfeeding but I've chosen not to for the following reasons:

* I don't think I want to go through the hormonal effect of stopping again
* I'm scared to crap that I'm going to get mastitis again (it's nasty!)
* TC is teething sooo badly again. I see him tearing up the bottle teats and I'm so thankful it's not my nipple
* After TC flatly refusing the bottle for 7 months he's taken to it brilliantly
* I'm scared of being rejected
* I've done 7 months. I call that quite good going!
* I can drink copious amounts wine, eat spicy curry and baked beans*

I could become a 'pumping mummy' but I don't want to go down that road. Some completely pro-breastfeeding people (I'm talking about the extreme breast feeders) may think I'm being slightly selfish but I don't see it like this.

I'm not against formula milk in the slightest. What works best for mum and baby is what matters - there is no use trying to breastfeed or re-establish breastfeeding if it's going to make one of you (or both) unhappy.

Many women try and fail to breastfeed - good for them for trying. Many women choose not to even try for various reasons - this is their decision and if it works for them then good for them too.

Although I'm upset about stopping, I'm happy in my choice not to continue if that makes sense? Yes, I would liked to have carried on but I think I can forgive myself and pat myself on the back and the same time too...although I'm not sure that's physically possible?

Thanks to all those who offered their support on here, Email. Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, G+ - you lovely people rock!

Right, where's that bottle of wine?





* I'm obviously joking with this one! "hic"

Mastitis - You Bitch!

Despite exclusively breastfeeding Mini Cheddar, 3 years ago, I never suffered with mastitis.

I now count myself very lucky.

Tiny Ched turned 7 months yesterday and on Friday the most incredible pain in my right breast woke me at 5.30am. I couldn't touch it. The pain started in my armpit and went all the way down to my nipple (ooh there's a word I've never used on my blog before!).

I also felt dreadful. I was aching and shivery.

Bollocks.

Even though I'd never had mastitis before I was totally aware of the symptoms.

I got worse.

A lot worse.

An hour later I felt so awful I started crying which woke Matt up.

"I think I've got mastitis" I wailed.

He passed me some painkillers and lay there with me until 8am when we could phone the doctor. Both kids were still sleeping soundly. Isn't it just typical that the first day of half term, the first day with no alarm call or school run, I get woken by an achy tit with the sparrows fart?

Sod's law with bells on!

I was too ill to feel angry though.

I phoned the doctor and managed to get an appointment at 8.50am. Thankfully the painkillers had kicked in and I was able (just about) to drive myself down to the doctors while Matt looked after the children.

The doctor confirmed it.

"You're lucky you've caught it fairly early" she said prodding (as gently as she could) my, now red, boob as I winced in agony "It really is quite horrendous if it gets really severe. You did the right thing coming down straight away".

This was early? Man alive what must the pain feel like if its really severe then? I honestly could have passed out it was that bad when it woke me.

I was aching all over and shivering too. I felt 10 times worse than having full-blown flu.

Mastitis is more common in the first few weeks of breast feeding so I stupidly thought I was pretty safe. How wrong I was. Apparently it was TC clamping down on me during feeds because of his severe teething (that's a whole other post in itself!) that has caused the problem. Thankfully my doctor was well aware of it having breastfed her child for 2.5 years!

I'm not alone in my sufferings with mastitis. The mere mention of it on Twitter and a fair few of my lovely followers told me horror tales of hospitalisation, pain worse than labour and so on.

The doctor gave me a high (but safe in breastfeeding) dosage of antibiotics and anti-inflammatories and told me if I didn't start to see improvement by the morning to get myself to the emergency doctor or A&E - apparently she was concerned about it being an abscess. Nasty.

To cut a painfully long story short, I spent the rest of Friday in bed. At one point I was wearing pyjamas, socks, 2 (yes 2!) dressing gowns and under a 13.5 tog duvet with a blanket and I was still shivering. I couldn't sleep. Although I was tired I felt too ill to even sleep.

I tried to feed TC through it but he started to develop diaorreah on Friday afternoon and by Saturday, even though the drugs were starting to make me feel better, they had upset his stomach and he couldn't keep any feed down at all.

I had no choice (after consulting the doctor again) to stop breastfeeding him and switch to formula.

Sat 27th Oct - possibly the last breastfeeding
picture I will ever take :( It must be fate I took this.

I've mentioned before that Tiny Ched wouldn't take a bottle. Well, it seems he now loves the bottle all of a sudden. The taste of my drug-filled milk has turned him away from my bosom.

I'm heartbroken.

Yes my boobs are aching and I hate expressing and throwing my contaminated milk down the sink but the pain of not being able to feed my little boy is more upsetting. I wanted to stop breastfeeding when I was ready, not when some nasty-assed inflammation decided it was time.

I'm still hopeful I can re-establish a bit of feeding with him once the drugs are out of my system but something tells me this may be an abrupt end to the breast bond with my boy.

So, to anyone who's breastfeeding or about to breastfeed, heed my warning. If you suspect mastitis (although the bitch got me whilst I slept) go straight to your doctor, do not pass go and do not collect £200! It's pretty serious.

Also, if you're a cow, my friend has some prevention medicine*






*Obviously cows don't read my blog....as if they'd be interested in my moooooosings! Yup, I'll get my coat.

Sir Poops-A-Lot

Tiny Ched is 4 weeks old tomorrow.

I honestly don't know where those 4 weeks have gone. 4 weeks since I lived my amazing birth story. 4 whole weeks of adoring our new baby boy.

In my last full post (my birth story) I said he was a dream.

He is.

But he does have one slight downfall.

He poops.

A lot.

Now I know breastfed babies crap a lot. Mini Cheddar did, but not to this extent. He literally poops for Britain. If there was a Baby Olympic event for crapping, he'd win gold every time.

This constant pooping came at a price. The poor little man has suffered with severe nappy rash. As soon as it started we rushed out to buy Metanium as we used that with massive success on MC but no, his poor little bottom got worse and he ended up looking like a baby baboon. We didn't use wipes on his bum, just water and cotton wool but with the amount he poops it's a battle to keep him clean and the constant wiping will not help. We even had him at the doctor's a week last Friday as it was getting worse.

Thankfully, a change of nappies and a massive amount of nappy off time have helped and it's almost back to normal.

With all this excessive pooping, can you imagine my surprise last week when he was weighed and had put on 1lb 2oz in a week! My milk must be great stuff because I honestly didn't think anyone so small who shat that much could put on that amount.

We are all well. Mini Cheddar loves Tiny Ched very much and is ever so gentle with him. She's always checking he's okay and giving him the gentlest of kisses. I'm loving having two children snuggled up on the sofa beside me. My heart just bursts with love, pride and happiness.

Anyway, before I make you all puke I'd best be off.  Oh and I was really ill last week so my blogging fell by the wayside. I'm back doing my freelance work a little too although that's been a struggle between my illness and the nappy rash.

Rest assured though, I'll be catching up on your blogs this week between poopy nappies!

Isn't that a nice thought to leave on.

He was probably squeezing one out as I took this

Mini Cheddar's 3rd Birthday

On Monday I put some pictures up on a post showing Mini Cheddar on the same day each year from 11th March 2009 to 11 March 2012. 3 years. 3 whole years. I honestly don't know where they have gone.

As I sit here waiting for the arrival of baby number 2 my mind is cast back to the birth of MC.

3 years ago.

3 years!

My little girl has grown and blossomed so much in those 3 years. She's a right little chatterbox and comes out with some corkers. She's definitely got a great sense of humour.

Sadly she was ill over her birthday. She started with a bad cold on the Friday night but thankfully by the Sunday she was that excited it was her birthday that she just got on with it.

As my due date is so close we decided not to organise a big party for her. Can you imagine if I went into labour and we had to cancel? We just decided to invite family over to ours and then we all went out for a meal at lunch time. I had organised a cake for her and the restaurant (and my Sister) decorated the table with balloons, streamers and glitter.

Perfect. No cleaning or washing up involved!

Sunday night, Matt and I had planned a 'Minnie Mouse' themed tea party for just the 3 of us. Trying our best to capture the small amount of time we have left with just MC before we become a 4. Unfortunately MC took a turn for the worse and was sick mid tea party. So we had to abandon it and it was an early night for all of us in the end.

She's still not right bless her.  My mind flicks back to her birthday week last year that ended up with her in hospital.

I'm hoping her 4th birthday will be a more healthier occasion and she will also have a little sibling to share it with.

I still can't believe my baby girl is 3 years old. I was fighting back the tears as we sang Happy Birthday to her and she blew out her candles.

Here are the photo's of us celebrating her birthday with her...

The scene in our lounge the night before

First ride on her new Minnie Mouse bike

Cheeeeeeese!

A quick wash 'n blow dry straight and she looks even older

Enjoying her birthday lunch out

I'll always love this photo of her

Me 'n my gal

A kiss for Daddy

Balloons thanks to her Aunty Sharon

Ice cream - om nom nom

This may end up being the last photo of us as a 3

Lunch was clearly exhausting

Feeling poorly but always time for balloon fun

Just before she took a turn for the worse and threw up

Illness kicks in and it's an early night

Pregnancy Patter - 22 Weeks And The Big VBAC Debate

I can't believe it's almost 2 weeks since my 20 week scan. I'm 22 weeks tomorrow - eek.

2 weeks of knowing the sex of our baby, it's a strange feeling...one I'm still not really used to. Part of me wishes that I didn't know as some of the excitement has gone now. Matt wanted to know (and I didn't) so I'll blame him happily. Still, at least it gives me something to focus on and the opportunity to look at proper themes for the nursery rather than just going neutral like we did last time.

In my last update I told you that I was ill with a sore throat and headache and that Mini Cheddar had been suffering badly with an awful cold and cough. Well, that transferred to me and I've spent a good amount of time in bed over these past couple of weeks feeling truly horrible (hence the lack of blog activity). I still have an awful cough now. Just as I was starting to recover at the end of last week I was hit with a stomach bug (or I ate something that didn't agree with me) and spent another day and a half in bed - and on the loo!

I'm hoping that after 3 weeks of illness I'm finally bug free and can look forward to Christmas - and our yearly December mini holiday up to Edinburgh in a couple of weeks. I'm also hoping to catch up on everyones blogs again!

So, on to other things...

As most of you know I had to have an elective section due to Mini Cheddar being well and truly stuck in the breech position.

The thing is, I'd planned a natural water birth so when I was told this news I was completely crushed. My NCT course covering natural birth (with a brief 10 minute section on caesarean birth) seemed pretty pointless at the time. I spent a good couple of weeks in tears and took to a baby forum where, with help from others in the same situation, I got through it and accepted I was having a c-section.

I turned it into a positive in the end and, as it happened, I had an amazing birth. The caesarean was a lovely experience and one I will cherish.

Shortly after the birth of Mini Cheddar
(eyes and nose puffy from blubbing)

So, now I'm pregnant again and over half way through. I saw my consultant a couple of weeks ago and she gave me a leaflet on having a VBAC (vaginal birth after caesarean). They are recommending I try for a VBAC as I have no real medical reason to request a caesarean but I can push for one if I wish.

The thing is, after being so totally crushed at not being able to go through a natural birth process last time, I always thought I would jump at the chance for a VBAC. But now, faced with the decision I find myself wondering if I really want to try for one. My head is filled with so many questions...

1. What if my scar ruptures?
2. What if I can't get through the natural birth and end up having an emergency caesarean?
3. What if something awful happens?
4. What if, what if, what if?

I know it's just me being silly and worrying but I know so many women who have gone through natural labour only to end up having an emergency caesarean. I don't think I could cope with that after having such a positive first birth experience. The thought of everything spiralling out of control makes me very nervous.

However, it may not come to that...everything could be fine.

If I choose an elective section the thought of having to spend 2 nights in hospital away from Matt and Mini Cheddar after afterwards also fills me with dread. The thought of not being able to pick MC up or do much around the house etc. is not something I would want either.

However, when I had my first caesarean, as it was elective, I had a great recovery. I was driving 2 weeks afterwards and healed really quickly.

I have been told if I go for a VBAC then they will only allow me to go a week overdue and if there are no signs of labour they will go ahead with a caesarean anyway so part of me is thinking I should just go ahead with a section and save all the faffing!

Oh decisions, decisions.

I'm seeing my consultant 21st February 2012 so I have until then to decide. I'm trying not to think about it until after Christmas but it's not going to be easy.

Pregnancy Patter - 20 Weeks And Scan Time!

Hello baby!

We had the 20 week scan today and it was fabulous. We got to see the baby in so much detail and it really cheered me up as, despite having a much better time with the sickness etc., I've had a bit of a crappy time over the past couple of weeks - all starting with my beloved dog being put to sleep just over 2 weeks ago. I should be feeling really happy as we have so much to look forward to over the next few months but I've been a bit down. I'm guessing pregnancy hormones just make everything feel 10 times worse.

I was feeling very anxious before the scan. I just wanted to know that everything was alright. Even though I've been having good movements now for a long time there's always that niggling doubt.

We ended up finding out the sex of the baby this morning. I didn't want to find out but Matt did and as I wouldn't let him find out with Mini Cheddar it was time to concede. We weren't going to tell anyone but our parents asked so we told them. My Sister said she doesn't want to know though - so hoping my Mum and Dad don't spill the beans! It feels very strange knowing...I still wish we hadn't found out but I'm happy also that we did. I know, I don't make any sense but hey, I'm pregnant!

We spent a long time with the consultant after the scan. I'm consultant led as I had to have a caesarean section with MC. I have until 34 weeks to decide to try and push for another caesarean or to try for a VBAC. I must say at the moment that the VBAC is looking more desirable - the thought of staying in hospital for 2 nights with MC at home will kill me. It's funny because first time I was so prepared for a natural birth and was destroyed when I knew I'd have to have a c-section. Now, after having such an amazing c-section birth, the thought of a VBAC scares the hell out of me! What will be, will be I guess.

The glucose levels in my urine were VERY high today which is of concern to them. I am due to have a GTT at 30 weeks anyway because of family history of diabetes - I had to have one with MC but it was fine. Hopefully it's just the amount of pineapple juice I drank this morning when I woke up (oops!) and the fact I had THE biggest chocolate panettone at Piccolinos last night. 

In other news I'm feeling really ill in a non-pregnancy related way. My throat feels like it's on fire, my head aches and tonight I've started aching. Really hacked off as I had my flu jab in October. MC is really struggling. She's had a bad cold and the worst cough ever for almost 2 weeks and tonight she's thrown up everywhere. She's had a sleep for an hour and then woke up coughing and crying and talking about wanting to go to Asda (?!?!). Back to the doctors for us tomorrow!

That's all for now...enough of my ramblings. See you in 2 weeks!

Silent Sunday #36

All Aboard The Train To Vomit Ville

After last weeks overnighter in hospital with Mini Cheddar which put a stop on her birthday week (poor little love) I was kind of hoping for a bit of a break.  The sun is finally shining and it's warm enough to step out in a t-shirt pretty much.  But no, someone had other plans for me this week.

Early evening yesterday I started to feel really nauseous.  Then the stomach cramps hit. Bugger.

I thought I'd gotten away with it! Apparently there are 3 hospitals in the area I live that are shut now due to the dreaded norovirus so I guess my chances were slim.  I've already boarded the train to Vomit Ville and it ain't stopping.

Complete with hospital sick bowl

So, a truly awful nights sleep last night along with severe vomiting at 3.30am, here I am.

As I lay here on the bed feeling a little sorry for myself, I'm actually feeling more sorry for Mini Cheddar.  Not only did we have to cut her days out for her 2nd birthday short last week, then the poor mite had to be put on a drip as she couldn't keep any fluid down at all....now here she is fully recovered but stuck in bed with me.  

Not only that, my husband is now trying to jump on my sickness bandwagon complaining that his tummy feels 'dodgy'.  Didn't stop him wolfing toast and a coffee this morning though did it?  Or stop him going to the chippy last night.  Why can't I just be ill on my own and be nursed properly?

He's just offered to get Mini Cheddar dressed.  It's 11.30am.  I've just been presented with the first question "What shall I put her in?"

"I'm sure you can choose an outfit for her" I shout from my sick bed.

I'm wondering what on earth she'll appear from her room wearing.  Men really have no idea.

Then comes the next one..."I think she may have poo'ed'.

"Well change her nappy"

"Does she need a vest on?"

"That depends what (bloody awful) outfit you dress her in!"

AAAAARRRRRGGGGH!

Ill or full of health, we never stop being mothers do we?

Actually, I really want my mum right now (I always do when I'm ill) but I don't want her to catch the train too.

C is for...Cancer

Photo credit: jscreationzs

When most people are asked what their biggest fear is you often hear them say things like spiders or flying.  Not me.

Sure, I don't really like spiders but the thing I'm afraid of most is cancer.

I'd heard of cancer when I was younger and didn't really think much of it.  It was something I read about in the news from time to time. something that didn't register with me much.  It wasn't until my early 20's when it really started to have an impact on my life.

My friend rang me "R**'s Mum has been taken into hospital really poorly, we are waiting for confirmation on tests but they think it could be bowel cancer".   I was in shock.  Not long before this my friend and I had been out with her mother-in-law in the local pub watching a tacky 'Chippendales' type tribute act and getting stupidly drunk and falling about laughing together.  3 weeks after this phone call she died.  She was 50.  She was young at heart and fun-loving woman with a heart of gold.

As I stood in the crematorium singing "You'll Never Walk Alone" (Liverpool FC was her family passion) I couldn't believe what had happened.  How had something like this taken her so quickly?

It was not long after that first moment that cancer impacted on my life that I heard more about it through friends who had other friends or family members who had cancer.  Then the worst happened....my parents turned up on my doorstep one the evening.  I knew straight away something was wrong.  "I've been diagnosed with breast cancer" Mum said, the words ringing in my ears.  I held it together as best I could until they left then I broke down.  My husband said to me "She'll be fine, it's only breast cancer - it's not like it's the worst kind".  He didn't even hug me, he just shrugged it off and walked away.  I could have punched him right there.  I grabbed my coat and drove to my friends house who gave me the hugs and words of support I needed. Needless to say, that husband is now my ex-husband.

Mum had to have a mastectomy and it was hard-going but she got through it.  She was told that if the cancer hadn't returned within 5 years she would be given the all clear.  4 and half years later it was back and she had to have another mastectomy.  That was 4 years ago now.  She still goes for her regular checks and I just hope it's completely gone.

In 2007, just before Matt (my lovely husband I'm married to now) were due to wed my Nan became really poorly.  She was unable to travel up from Luton to the ceremony.  I knew it was something serious.  Just after the wedding we were told she had pancreatic cancer.  It hit us all hard.  My Nan had always been so full of life and active.  Even though I was doing a 126 mile commute each day I still made the 400 mile round trip journey to Luton and back to visit my Nan every weekend for the 2 months she was ill.  Watching this disease take hold of her and waste her away was heart-breaking.  I'll never forget my sister and I having to help her onto the commode. I'll never forget her not knowing who we were toward the end apart from the odd smile. I so wish she'd been around to witness the birth of my baby girl.  My Nan passed away in October 2007.

Then a couple of years ago one of my closest friends Mum was diagnosed with cancer.  I was a massive support for her through a really dark time in her life.  Her Mum died in October 2008.  I remember being pregnant and emotional at the funeral as my heart was aching for my friend and the memory of my Nan was all too raw.

Exactly a year later another one of my closest friends Mums died from cancer.  Another year, another funeral to go to.  Another cancer victim.

It was all too much...3 years, 3 Octobers, 3 cancer victims, 3 deaths, 3 funerals.

Out of my 6 closest friends in my life, 3 of them have lost their mums to cancer.

Now I have a male friend who is currently battling prostate cancer at the age of 50 and a friend who has a cousin battling ovarian cancer at the age of 42.  Last week I read in the news that 1 in 8 women will develop breast cancer - shocking stats.

Cancer is evil, cancer is disgusting.  It rips through families and causes so much heartache.  It's the one thing in life I fear the most.

I give a small amount of money to Cancer Research and to MacMillan each month.  I've been donating since cancer first hit my life.   I'm not a religious person but I do pray that one day they find a cure.

Sorry this is a deep and dark post but, if you've got this far, thank you for reading.

Part of my A to Z posts

Click the button for info

I promise my next post will be a happy one!