Sleepless Nights

Author: Veronica

  • The one in which I am markedly smaller than before

    So, my 25 week photo.

    25 weeks after 5kg weight loss
    24 weeks for comparison.

    I lost 5kg this week, after the stomach bug floored me. I’m still not fully recovered, having no energy and finding food hard to stomach. Funnily enough, with both pregnancies previous, I caught a stomach bug around the 20 ish week mark and lost weight. I’d hoped to miss the hell that is vomiting until your eyes ache this time, but it seems that some things continue to happen regardless of what I want.

    Of course, it’s all coincidence, but three pregnancies running? Really?

    Ugh.

    I’m hoping I can recover from this – I managed to with Isaac, but didn’t manage to with Amy. This pregnancy is more like my first than my second, so I’m a little concerned about the increased nausea and inability to eat anything. I was awake at 4am last night taking more anti-nausea meds after the urge to vomit woke me up.

    Yesterday in the car, the baby flipped breech (again) and I’ve done nothing but swear about it since. Not because I am worried about her being breech, but because having baby feet kicking your cervix from the inside is painful. Not to mention she’s pressing on a nerve in my right hip.

    Pregnancy is so glamorous, isn’t it?

    How are you?

  • It’s been a little chaotic here.

    It’s loud in my house this morning, which I think is more of a statement about my mental state, rather than the relative loudness of my children. Despite hoping really hard that I wouldn’t, I caught Isaac’s stomach bug and spent a fair amount of time Thursday night through to Friday morning actively wishing I was dead.

    I curled up around my bucket and was glad for the fact that my children were sleeping, as I threw up and pulled all the muscles in my stomach, chest and throat.

    It wasn’t fun.

    Recovery yesterday was slow and this morning, I have just braved a single piece of toast in the hope that I can get something other than water cordial to stay down. A cup of tea would be much appreciated, but to be honest, I’m too tired to make it.

    In other news:

    This.

    This is one part of my yard that is now covered in trenches and mud. That trench is not meant to have water in it, by the way. Two days later, we’d hoped that the water might have evaporated, but a quick glance this morning showed that there was actually more water seeping in from the old failing grey water system.

    It was meant to be a simple job – dig a trench to put pipes down, so that we can put a toilet inside. Unfortunately the toilet pipes intersect with the very old earthenware grey water pipes and we were forced to dig those up and replace them as well.

    Only to discover that the grey water system at the moment is not working at all, forcing us to replace it entirely.

    A “small” job suddenly had Nathan and I playing juggle the budget and working out how exactly we were meant to afford the extra work. Luckily our contractor is a guy who has been working for my family for years and he’ll be happy to be paid in installments.

    Needless to say, this week has been a little chaotic.

  • The reality within the ideal

    I went to lie down this afternoon with my son and my book, only to wake up two hours later, kindle akimbo and pelvis screaming at me. I’d call it narcolepsy, but I suspect “pregnancy” is a better diagnosis. I woke up to find that Isaac hadn’t wet himself, that Nathan had cleaned the house and that everything was pretty much perfect. I am inordinately grateful for this.

    Ten minutes later as I was sipping a cup of tea to wash down the buckets of panadol I required, Isaac ran up to me, threw his arms around my neck and squeezed tightly, before racing off again.

    In contrast, I saw a physio yesterday who reminded me about the importance of good posture, gave me millions of pelvic floor exercises to do, looked a bit stunned when I discussed what joints of mine actually dislocate and sold me a pelvic brace.

    It was an interesting appointment, rehashing things I already knew about how to correctly sit at my computer, how to not destroy my vagina forever and how to ease strain on my shoulders.

    All of which are perfect in theory, but a little messy in reality. I pointed this out and she responded “It’s about finding the reality within the ideal”.

    Which I guess is a perfect description of life, isn’t it?

    As much as the ideal version of sitting at a computer looks great, if I sit properly, my blood pressure bottoms out and I either puke, or pass out. Neither are conducive to working, in case you’re interested. And so I write blog posts either lying in bed with a laptop, or with my feet resting up near the mantelpiece. Definitely bad for my posture, but it’s about finding the least bad thing and attempting that.

    I keep reminding myself that pregnancy is not forever, that eventually I’ll be allowed to take the good drugs again and that I will have a smooshy new baby as compensation. Sometime in September, I’ll stop wanting to puke all of the time, my joints will stabilise a little bit and my skin will clear up.

    Everything is falling apart and yet, it’s all going to be okay. Even if I spend the next three months unable to actually do anything other than write things and lie down, it will get better. Things will ease and I will not remain this unwell for ever.

    This is shades of Amy’s pregnancy over again and I survived that, in worse health to start with. I can get through this. Pregnancy is meant to be glowing health and skipping through rainforests, while birds serenade me.

    However, I’ve got to get used to the reality, within my ideal.

    24 weeks 007

    24 weeks.

  • Our day in pictures

    Not pictured: My children covered in preserved cherry juice.

    Thank you to Frogpondsrock (Mum) and Liz and Jarod for spending the afternoon with us! It was lovely.

  • Getting into things they shouldn’t…

    Yesterday evening, after dinner, I took myself to my bedroom with a book in order to get some peace and quiet and hopefully stop my back aching quite so much. I could hear the children running around the house screeching and playing; with Nathan occasionally breaking in to ask them to PLEASE go and play in their bedroom.

    It was relaxing, right up until my son came into my room, tucked himself under my chin and nearly asphyxiated me with the smell of perfume. It seems, during their playtime, Isaac had tipped the remains of a bottle of perfume all over himself.

    It wasn’t pretty.

    For the record, a little bit of perfume is lovely – a lot of it is nauseating.

    This morning, after a good wipe down, a bath, a sleep and another wipe down, he still smells vaguely of perfume whenever he tucks himself under my chin for a cuddle.

    It could be worse however – there was a time when taking my eyes off Amy meant that she would fingerpaint the kitchen with butter, or the hallway with nappy cream. At one point she smeared both sudocreme and bepanthan into her hair, leaving her looking punky and smelling like sweet baby bottoms for a week. Waterproof nappy rash cream is not designed to shampoo out easily.

    Nowadays Amy hides herself in the bedroom with a pair of scissors, paper and the sticky tape, madly creating before anyone discovers her absence. Despite the little bits of paper she leaves everywhere that refuse to vacuum up, I can’t say I mind this style of creative expression.

    It’s certainly less frustrating than discovering an entire box of cocoa tipped out, or the corn flour tipped onto the floor!

    What do your children get into when you’re not looking?