Finding My Balance

My beautiful little smiler

It’s hard to believe that just over a month ago I was Keeping Up With the Kardashians - Yip I really was. In between kissing and cuddling my baby, feeding him his bottles and staring dreamily at his sleeping face, I never missed an episode. I also watched numerous other bits and pieces on TV before strolling out to the car to fetch Cameron from school.

But now I look at the polish chipping off my toe nails and I promise my feet that I will give them five minutes tomorrow.

See, I like to be productive. And having worked for myself for nearly four years and charging an hourly rate for my time – I think in hours and what it costs when those hours aren’t used productively. So somewhere at the start of February I decided to take on some work. Nicholas slept long hours in the mornings so why not use them to work?

As Murphy would have it, Nicholas decided that long sleeps in the day are no longer necessary at about the same time that I took on two significant projects – the deadlines for which coincided with the week of Cameron’s forth birthday party.

Since then I have been trying to regain my balance. Juggling two children and working from home (without established childcare arrangements for one of them) has knocked me off kilter. Not that I am saying that being a mother of more than one child – or even one for argument’s sake – in itself isn’t enough to make you a little wobbly. But, just over a month ago, I really thought I had things waxed.
Yes, having two children can be overwhelming at times. Like when I get home from fetching Cameron from school and he insists on climbing out the car himself, carrying his own bags and opening the front door - dawdling as he does it - and Nicholas is crying in his snug 'n safe because he's hungry and I all I want to do is get inside and make his bottle but I am afraid of incurring the wrath of Cameron if I dare do any of his "jobs" for him or try to help him to make things go faster.

Although Nicholas is a happy and contented baby, preparing and eating dinner most days is a challenge. Nicholas’s nap times are so erratic and usually at the time when I need to cook, he is tired but wont sleep. So he sits and yells at me from his pram while I tend to the cooking (which I would rather not do I might add).

Sometimes he can become significantly incensed that he yells quite loudly, going red in the face and sometime even spitting. It is stomach-acid inducing – especially since I prefer him the way he is the rest of the day – calm and happy. It’s easy to stop this performance by simply picking him up. But that means preparing dinner with him dangling from one arm – which can be dangerous when you consider what’s required for preparing a meal – like sharp knives and hot stoves.

Fortunately, being the mother of a child who has reached his forth birthday, I have the privilege of hindsight. I know that Nicholas will eventually grow out of yelling at me from his pram at dinnertime.

Cameron’s forth birthday was a resounding success. I managed to source the big toy pirate galleon he so badly wanted (thanks to aunty Nic) and his Knights & Princesses party went off without a hitch – albeit without a “pull a sword from the stone” party game. I also got him the most beautiful cake with a knight and a shield – at the last minute (once again thanks to aunty Nic).

I had 29 children – and that’s only counting the ones who can walk and required party packs. See the classes in Cameron’s little school are small so you invite all the kids (11 kids). Then some of their siblings tag along and then there are our friends' kids. Before you know it wallah, you’re hosting 29 kids and their folks for a party!

With the party and two major deadlines behind me, I am a little more steady on my feet but still a little unbalanced. My mom has been taking Nicholas two mornings a week so that I can work. However, the bulk of my retainer works starts again this month and I know I am not going to have enough time to do it all. I just can’t part with him more than this. He goes to the day mom in May – the thought of which twists my heart and stomach – and I want to spend as much time with him as I can. So, I guess I am going to be up late working at night so that I don’t have to sacrifice any more time away from my precious baby boy.

When I was stressing about meeting those aforementioned deadlines, my dear friend Vanessa said that instead of worrying about money, taking on work and worrying about getting it done, I should enjoy the time off I had promised myself (and financially allowed for) in January and February. How I wish I had listened to her because now the work begins in earnest. I should have savoured the time off and continued Keeping Up With the Kardashians while I could without feeling guilty.

I hate leaving my baby even if it’s for two mornings a week. How will I feel when I have to leave him five days a week with someone he doesn’t know? It’s so hard.

Please don’t grow too fast

One of the girls from the forum had her baby today. Congrats Bel. It’s made me long to go back in time because four weeks ago today, it was me, having my baby. Those first few magical moments, hearing him cry for the first time, holding his little warm body against me for the first time and feeling the after-effects of the caesar – proof that he had been removed from my tummy and is now a living, breathing perfect little person.

It might sound strange but I savour the memories of my stay in hospital. Some people hate hospitals. I guess it all depends on why you are there. For me it was wonderful. It was just me and my new baby. I had nothing to worry about except me and him. A momentary pause before life as normal resumed.

Now, his birth, Christmas and his first few weeks are behind us. Just like that, it’s over. What a splendid time. I wish it could be December forever.

But life goes on. Now all I can do is savour every minute with my baby and hope that he doesn’t grow too fast. And I am. I am enjoying him so much. I think that it’s because I know he is my last and that I will never (unless Michael agrees to have another baby) pass this way again.

Cameron started his third year of school on Monday. He’s getting so big. Soon I will have to start planning his forth birthday party. He wants everyone to dress up as knights, dragons or princesses. A party game on the top of his list is “pull the sword from the stone” (inspired by his favourite movie “The Sword and the Stone”). The person who manages it, gets a prize he says. I have wracked my brain since he made this request but I have yet to come up with a way of embedding a toy sword in a “pretend” stone.

Margaret starts her chemo next week and understandably, she is very nervous and emotional about what lies ahead. She is also very tired and weepy. Michael asked the doctor to prescribe an anti-depressant, which she is now on. Apparently they take a week or so to work. When I phoned there yesterday to see how she and Peter are doing, she was asleep, and Michael reports that when he went there mid-morning today, she was still in bed. This is a woman – a very proud woman – whose outfits always matched, who always wore make-up and who would never have been be caught mid-morning in her pyjamas.

The other day she burst into tears when leaving our house. “What I want,” she said, “let me tell you what I want. I want everything to be the way it was. For all of you to be small again.” (looking at Michael). My heart really went out to her that day. Imagine being diagnosed with cancer and all the uncertainty that comes with it. Imagine not knowing if you’ll be cured or if your days on earth really are numbered. Imagine looking at your children, all grown up, and wondering where the time has gone – and how much time you have left to spend with them.

I know that the road that lies ahead for her is not going to be easy. I don’t think it’s going to be easy for anyone in the family. For now, it’s one step at a time.

The final countdown

Well here I am finally… It has been more than a month since my last post. Look I never professed to be the world’s most diligent blogger!

Truth be told the past six weeks have passed by in a blur. The week before my precious baby was born was tumultuous to say the least, so much so that the day of his birth arrived quite unceremoniously because we were so distracted by the events of the days leading up to it. I didn’t even pack my hospital bag until 10pm the night before he was born.

But, I am pleased to say that the moment of his arrival into the world was no less momentous than it would have otherwise been. He is my precious angel, our shining light amidst the gloom.

Here’s how it all unfolded:

Monday 14 December

Michael takes his mom to the doctor out of concern over her swollen ankles. He was worried that it might have something to do with her kidneys. She’s also been fading away little by little. She is so thin and seems to have lost all interest in life – everyone writes it off to stress from Michael’s dad’s illness and paraplegia, as well as her own seemingly harmless ailments (chill-blanes and arthritis in her hands). We couldn’t have been more wrong.

At about 17:30 Michael walks in the door looking as if he had seen the Ghost of Christmas past. I was playing “snap” with Cameron in the lounge and when Michael mouthed something inaudible, pointing to his chest, I got up without a clue of what he was about to tell me.

“I think my mom has breast cancer” he says and starts crying. So he tells me that the doctor had decided to run a batch of blood tests to figure out the cause of the swollen ankles and his mom had become hysterical. Michael couldn’t understand what her fuss was all about and on the way home was trying to console her saying that it is just due diligence to find out if her kidneys and liver were working as they should. He proceeds to tell her that she needs to start taking better care of herself and eating properly because everyone is concerned over her dramatic weight-loss and what seems to be a depression.

At home, she breaks down and tells Michael and his dad that she thinks she has an infection in her breasts. She also tells them of a lump she discovered in one breast over a year ago. They call Michael’s cousin Luanne (a physiotherapist) to come over and have a look as Margaret does not want to show Michael or his dad what’s going on under her shirt.

Luanne takes one look and whisks her off to a friend who is a doctor. The friend is dismayed by what she sees and is convinced at first glance that it is breast cancer. She also diagnoses a severe infection of the tissue and nipples and prescribes a brute-force strength antibiotic, painkillers and stress medicine.

Michael goes back to his folks’ house when they get back from the doctor. His mom is beyond hysterical. I stay at home wondering why on earth this is happening to my husband now – not after everything he has already gone through with his dad.

Tuesday 15 December

Luanne and her doctor friend have arranged a batch of tests to be run, including a biopsy, mammogram, needle aspiration, ultrasound and blood tests. Luanne offers to take Margaret for her tests as Michael is closing up the business for the holidays.

I go off to our last gynae appointment on my own. Dr Haacke tells me that my little baby has not yet engaged and is sitting very high. The cord is also round his neck. A c-section is recommended. I am happy with that. I just want him to be brought into the world without hiccup. I would never jeopardise his health or safety by insisting on a normal birth.

I spend the rest of the afternoon with my mom and dad. Michael goes to his dad as company as the await Margaret’s return.

At 18:00 I join him. She arrives home at about the same time. She is bent over and her sister, Anne, is helping her walk. She looks at me through eyes that are swollen almost shut. I am shocked by what I see. She is worn out from all the crying and ravaged by the tests.

We sit down at the kitchen table with cups of tea as Anne explains the events of the day. Margaret is spaced out on painkillers and talks very slowly. The tissue around her breast is so infected and so hard from the cancer that they were unable to perform a mammogram. The anaesthetic also didn’t work as a result and the biopsies were done regardless with Margaret screaming in pain.

The cancer is at an advanced stage – stage four. Margaret admits that she has actually known about the lump for two years.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone” I ask her. “If you had told us sooner and we had gotten it treated sooner, the prognosis would be better”.

“I didn’t want to upset anyone. Peter has been ill and I have had to look after him. Then there’s the business. I haven’t had time to think about this. I have just carried on. I was planning to tell you and get help in the new year after the baby is born” she says.

Wednesday 16 December

I wake up crying my eyes out – although I had hardly slept. I am upset that Margaret is so ill. She is a good, gentle person. She looked after Michael’s gran when she was sick and she has been caring for Michael’s dad throughout his ordeal. She doesn’t deserve this.

I also hate seeing my husband so sad and deflated. As if having his dad in his condition isn’t bad enough!

I am sad that my little boy’s birth on Friday is marred by this terrible revelation. It has become the focus of everyone’s attention – although quiet rightly so I suppose.

But, I am angry with Margaret for not seeking help earlier. I understand her fear of not wanting a breast cancer diagnosis to be confirmed. But, I am still angry. Despite her efforts to keep her secret from us in order to avoid upsetting everyone, it has come out at the worst possible time. My baby is coming in two days and it’s Christmas in a week.

I am devastated that we have been robbed of being able to enjoy his arrival. It has been the most awful year and for us. Our new son’s birth was meant to be a turning point. Now we (well especially Michael) have this to worry about on top of everything else.

My mom insists that we should still go to the braai we have been invited to. We need some distraction. We stop by Margaret and Peter in the morning anyway. Margaret is in bed. She looks so frail. I think the trauma of the pervious day’s tests have worn her out. Looking at her lying there, I don’t think she’ll survive another five minutes. My parents arrive to spend the day with them to keep Peter company and ensure that they eat something decent for lunch.

Thursday 17 December

I wake up crying again. I have hardly slept a wink. It’s been like this for the past few weeks – being unable to sleep through that is. Now it’s made worse because when I wake up at 3am for a toilet trip and I am unable to go back to sleep, my mind is filled with thoughts of what’s happening to our family, how are Margaret and Peter going to take care of themselves, how are we going to cope with the trials of her treatment, how will Michael cope she passes away, why cant the bad stuff just stop and, why cant we just enjoy our baby’s birth without having this cloud hanging over it?

We spend the day with Cameron and then head to my mom’s for dinner. Cameron is sleeping there because we have to be at the hospital at 6am and I don’t want to haul him out of bed before dawn.

I make a promise to myself that I will not think of anything else on Friday other than the arrival of my sweet baby. I will not let his birth happen without notice. I am going to acknowledge and celebrate his arrival and life – even if it is at a time when our family is in turmoil.

After making this pact with myself, I start getting very excited. I pack our bag for hospital and I get such a thrill folding up his tiny little clothes all ready for him and carefully checking that I had everything he would need during our stay in hospital.

Friday 18 December

Not surprisingly, I wake up just after 3:30am but instead of worrying about everything else, I think about the fact that I am meeting my little boy in a few hours. I am truly happy. At 5am, we get up and get ready for the hospital. It is such a different experience to going into labour and Cameron’s birth. The birds are chirping and we take a slow drive to the hospital.

We are on a long list of women giving birth. Dr Haacke has his own patients and is also filling in for another gynae who is on holiday. All in all, there are ten caesars and two inductions scheduled – 12 babies are to be born that day. There is an air of excitement in the maternity ward as 12 anxious moms and dads-to-be settle themselves in their rooms.

We are steered to bed 8A. I hadn’t booked a private room and I was a little concerned about who I might be sharing with. Fortunately, it is a lovely woman having her third son. Her husband has a great sense of humour. I feel relieved.

I am prepped straight away. We are forth on the list but don’t know what time we will go into theatre. I phone my mom to see how Cameron is and to let her know that they needn’t rush down – we’ll phone when baby is born.

I am not expecting what she has to say… Cameron had a terrible fever in the night and was complaining of “sore pipes”. She says she’ll book an appointment with the doctor and let me know as soon as she knew what was wrong with him. I am very upset. Cameron hasn’t been sick for ages. In fact, I cant remember the last time I took him to the doctor with a fever or anything else like that. Isn’t it Murphy’s Law that he’d get sick on the very day that his baby brother is born?

I go through a slump where I am so thirsty and so tired that I don’t know if I’ll make it through the Caesar. I feel completely and utterly drained. I am so happy that I am not giving natural birth – there’s no way I would have made it. I just close my eyes and fall asleep. It couldn’t have been very long but I wake up feeling better. Maybe the drip made me feel better too. I am not sure.

Just after 9am, they wheel me through to the theatre – it was happening… I was going to meet my baby boy. Michael is walking behind the bed as two nurses push me. He has the biggest smile on his face. I will never forget it. He is just looking at me and I am looking at him. We are both smiling. NOTHING ELSE matters at that moment. Not his dad’s paraplegia, not his mom’s cancer, not the business, not Cameron’s fever.

Dr Haacke’s assistant and the anaesthetist speak to us about what is going to happen. Shortly after that we see a baby being wheeled passed, next his mommy… Then it is our turn.

They wheel me into the theatre. There is music playing. Dr Haacke turns to say hello. I can hear the smile in his voice. The spinal is done – far less painful than the epidural was with Cameron. They pinch and prod and ask if my legs have gone numb yet. I cant feel my legs but I can still feel needle-like pricks in my pelvic area. I tell Dr Haacke so. He says, “well I am glad that’s all you can feel because if you knew and could actually feel what I had just done to you, you would be screaming in pain. The spinal is working because you would be feeling much more than that.”

I have to admit that while I did not feel any pain, the strange tugging feeling I could feel was pretty scary. I cant describe how it feels. I guess it’s just how you’d expect to feel if someone was scooping out your insides and digging around in your belly! I was a bit anxious and started to cry – just a little.

Michael is fixated on what Dr Haacke is doing. He musters a “you’re doing well” every now and then. It’s all up the anaesthetist to console me. He is wonderful. He cradles my head in his hands and strokes my hair and tells me bit by bit what I am feeling. It soothes me and makes me feel so much better. So the crying is short-lived.

Within minutes the big tug happens and Nicholas is born. The clock says 09:55am. Dr Haacke exclaims: “he’s no shrimp”, so I know he must be a fair size!

I cant believe it when they say he is out because the big tug felt no bigger than the tugs I had been feeling before that. Then I hear him cry. What a beautiful sound! At that moment I think to myself, how could anyone ever live their life without hearing that sound – a baby’s first cry?

Then they give him to me. I am all strapped up of course so he is placed on my chest – all wrapped up. He feels so warm. I am elated.

Michael leaves with him as he is taken to the ward. I close my eyes while I am stitched up. I feel so relaxed. After that I was wheeled to recovery where a nurse sits with me for half an hour talking to me, asking me questions and taking my blood pressure. All I want to do is sleep until I can go to my new baby and properly see what he looks like. I also want to phone my mom to see if Cameron is ok. It is the longest wait.

As soon as I get back to my room, I phone my mom. Cameron has a throat infection and has been put on antibiotics. The doctor feels confident that it is not contagious and that it is safe for him to visit his new brother. They are on the way!

I finally get to hold my baby properly about half an hour after being wheeled back to my room. My mom, dad and Cameron are already there. He is warm, wrapped up and perfect. I cant stop staring at him. I loved him instantly that I can tell you.

My mom tells me that when they looked into the nursery and she asked Cameron which baby he thought was his brother, he pointed to Nicholas!

There were so many things that distracted me from the pregnancy. It flew by so fast. It was nothing like the arduous waiting I remember of my pregnancy with Cameron. It was like Nicholas had made his way into my life without me really noticing. Now he is here. He is my little boy. He and his brother are everything to me.

As it turned out, Cameron took a turn for the worse despite being on antibiotics and Michael and I took the decision not to let him come back to the hospital in case he passed it onto Nicholas – that’s all we needed. What this meant is that Michael couldn’t languish around at the hospital like he did when Cameron was born. He had our big boy to look after.

On the Monday (21 December) he took Cameron back to the doctor because his fever had rocketed in the night. He was prescribed more antibiotics and had to go back daily for an injection. I came out of hospital that day. I was desperate to see Cameron but we decided that it would be safer to have him stay with my mom until he was better.

It broke my heart to come home and not have him here. I couldn’t believe that he was so sick and I couldn’t even look after him. He had a few more fever spikes which upset me terribly because I wasn’t with him. I also felt awful that my mom was having to deal with it. He came home on 23 December once we were sure he was better. I am enormously happy to have them all home.

Throw us a bone here please

When I look at Michael, how tired he looks, and when I get up in the night for a toilet trip and see that he is lying awake, I wonder how long it is going to take for him to crack.

It worries me so much. His dad cannot even get out of bed into his wheelchair anymore. Michael goes there every morning and every night to help him. In between, he runs around for them and is still single-handedly running the business. He takes on so much. I am sure I would do the same for my parents but I worry so much about him. This thing with his dad is all-consuming, and it is impacting on our whole family.

I have developed shingles along my neck and on my left shoulder. The doctor says it’s from stress. I didn’t think I was stressed but I guess I am. I suppose the body has a way of defying you. I am in terrible pain. It’s a deep nerve pain. Shoo… but all I can have is panado. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. I am just relieved that it cannot affect my baby.

We went to Jana’s mom’s funeral yesterday. So sad for Jana to have lost her mom. They were so close, and Jana has just had another little baby. Everyone wants their mom with them at times like this. And she suffered so much. She died a slow and painful death. The cancer literally ate her up.

It made me wonder about Michael’s dad and what’s going on with his body. How long will his body be able to carry on? What is it that is causing it? Will he ever be functional again? What does the future hold and when will it be us holding his dad’s funeral? I know Michael was thinking the same thing when they carried Jana’s mom’s coffin into the church.

What’s happening to his dad is so sad and so demoralising. I know it’s hard for them. I know Michael’s mom is taking strain but she isn’t helping the situation at all. She is crumbling and I believe she is making herself sick. I wish she would be stronger. She doesn’t realise what added burden she is placing on my husband by being this way.

Today I feel so desperately tired. I can’t imagine how Michael feels. I just wonder when things are going to get easier for my husband. He has so much on his plate trying to care for his parents and run a business. He is so distracted and so consumed by this drama. I don’t think he even realises that our new baby boy will be here in seven weeks.

Ah… I got to hold Jana’s baby Elizabeth (named after her mom) yesterday. She is so lovely. You forget how small, fragile and un-coordinated they are. I can’t actually wait to hold my squirmy-wormy baby.

On the way home from fetching Cameron from my parents after the funeral, he was all smiles telling me about how brave he was having his measles injection –although it was sore, he says, he didn’t even cry. Looking at his bright face in the rear view mirror I just thought how when everything else in life seems to be getting on top of me, I look at my precious boy and I realise that nothing is so bad that you shouldn’t be able to smile.

Ketchup

Well I am really no good at this blogging thing am I? It’s been ages since my last post. I have just been so busy. But, being busy is nice so I am not complaining.

I went for my 30 week check up yesterday. Everything is going fine with our bubs. He weighs around 1.6 kilos now. I have just eight weeks until he arrives as my gynae is going to induce me on the 18th of December.

Time is just flying by. I can’t believe how fast it has gone. At the same time, it couldn’t have gone all that quickly because so much has happened since I found out I am pregnant. Strange how time can go so fast and so slowly at the same time. I can’t say it has been a terribly easy time either.
Michael’s dad’s condition has deteriorated so immensely since the start of the year and seems to have progressed at an alarmingly rapid rate since he was first hospitalised in July. Since then, he has been back in hospital twice. The last stint, he was in for three weeks. He is now wheelchair bound and so weak that he can hardly manoeuvre himself in and out of his wheelchair to get into bed or onto the toilet. His upper body is also losing strength and his hands shake.
The doctors are still unsure of what is causing his paralysis and other symptoms. He has been for countless tests. They are treating him for two different things at the moment. The first diagnosis of transverse myelitis (a disease of the spine) has been discarded because he didn’t respond to the treatment and the disease did not follow the typical disease progression. He is due to go for an angiogram tomorrow.
His mom is also not in the best shape. She has literally shrunk to half her size from the stress of it all and she has developed arthritis and chillblanes in her hands which have rendered her unable to do much with them.
It is hard to watch Michael worry so much about his dad, and because neither of his parents can drive, he has to do all their running around – from grocery shopping, to trips to the hospital and pharmacy, and then everything to do with the business. He is also trying to fix up their house to sell – it’s too big for them to cope with in the condition they are in. It is so bizarre how everything has spiralled like it has in such a short space of time. Michael has aptly termed it “a mess”. I wonder when it will start to get better.
One of the highlights of the past month has most certainly been the arrival of my new yorkie baby in my life, Duke. We brought him home on the 24th of September so he’s been with us for almost a month. He is so beautiful and so perky. My heart feels like it could burst when I look at him. Tyson surprised us by accepting him. Yes, there were a few hair-raising moments where Duke was irritating Tyson and he got snapped at, but now things have settled down and Tyson, in spite of himself, has warmed up to Duke and plays so gently with him. They race around the garden and Duke barks with glee.

It reminds me so much of when Gizzy and Tyson were puppies. I can still hear Gizzy’s bark in my mind. Losing him was so devastating for me – nothing like losing a human life I am quite sure. Still, it was very hard for me. Duke makes me feel happy all over again. And, to think that I have a husband who understands how much I loved Gizzy and the great sense of loss I felt when he died that he drove me to Cullinan to find this little guy – just to make me happy. I am truly blessed.


Since I last posted, two of my friends have given birth to their daughters. Congrats to Jana on the arrival of baby Elizabeth and Candice on the arrival of baby Alexis. It seemed like we fell pregnant quite quickly one after the other. Now that their babies are here, I realise I am next in line.

I am looking forward to our little boy arriving. Cameron can’t wait either. He’s always asking me when his baby brother is going to hatch. Still have so much to do before he comes though. I hope time continues to fly and go very slowly at the same time. That way, I will be meeting my baby really soon but I will still have time to get everything done that I need to get done before December.

Not second prize to me

I know that I was disappointed when I first found out that the baby I am carrying is a boy. Wanted a girl - although, didn’t actually realise it until I was told for sure that I was having a boy. For two days a sulked about it. But, I am well over it now and I am excited about having another little boy. It will be wonderful for Cameron to have a brother. There will be a four-year age gap between them and the fact that they’ll both be the same gender somehow lessens this divide.

And, Cameron is so gorgeous! If his brother is as handsome, I will be known around town as the mom of “those two hot brothers”. We had a few of those boy-only families when I was growing up; those families of discerningly handsome sons. They were quite legendary some of them. They elicited an air of mystery. Countless girls used to obsessively ride their bikes passed their houses on the way home from school. We even had a pair of hotties that lived in our road.

So, although I get the occasional pang of desire to have a daughter to go shopping with and plan a wedding for, I am resolved that I am a boy mom. This is what God intended for us and I am happy about it.

I just wish everyone else would be too. Almost EVERY person I tell that I am having another boy is visibly disappointed for me. They dont even try to hide their own disappointment. Some have even gone as far as to say “oh shame”, some say “you’ve got your work cut out for you with two boys”, others keep asking if perhaps the doctor was wrong and that it could still be a girl and others say, “ag you’ll just have to try again” – like a girl is first prize and boy a consolation prize.

I know they probably don’t mean it and perhaps they are just saying these things because they expect me to be disappointed because they would be. But, it is starting to get up my nose. I would greatly appreciate some objectivity.

I have a son already and despite the normal challenges that come with raising any child – regardless of gender – he has been an absolute joy and pleasure. I wouldnt have him ANY OTHER WAY.

So, for me, and for Michael and for Cameron too, this little guy I am carrying is no second prize! He is first prize to us and we cant wait to get to know him.

I am the OROS lady

OK...now this weight gain issue is really starting to get me down. I got on the scale this morning and I am 2 kilos heavier than I was last Wednesday. How the f…k it happened I don’t know. Maybe its water retention – now that the weather is warming up. I do have a cankle (it’s my previously broken one though), so I do know that I am retaining water BUT STILL MAN!!!!

And the thing is I was actually feeling ok last week. I had only put on one kilo since my last antenatal check up the month before. Now this… and the injustice of it all is that I don’t even eat a lot. I am acutely aware of how the kilos can pack on in pregnancy. I was a house when I was pregnant with Cameron. I don’t want to be like that again and I have been extremely careful about what I eat. Yes a treat now and then but I am watching myself very carefully and I most certainly DO NOT east for two. And yet, here I am ballooning to epic proportions once again. I can just see that I am going to wack on in excess of 20 kilos just like last time.

It’s just so unfair. So many pregnant women I know just eat whatever they want – ice cream, cakes – you name it. And they put on ten kilos. I have already put on 12 and I still have three months to go.

Why does it always seem like I have to swim upstream? I try so hard and yet I put on the weight. Yes I know weight gain is inevitable in pregnancy and I am one of the unluckier ones. What I am most afraid of is that it won’t come off again when this is all over.

I feel like crawling into a hole.