Redefining my version of success

Sometimes, you’ve got to take a step back and reassess “success” as you thought you knew it. Like today, when I sneezed twenty times in a row and didn’t wet myself even a little bit, despite the fetus kicking me in the bladder.

And earlier, when I managed to eat an entire breadroll (filled with bacon, cheese and tomato) for breakfast, without having to have any anti-nausea medication immediately afterwards. I also managed a cup of tea about an hour later, although in the end, that required a lay down, with some breathing exercises to keep it down. Liquids are harder to keep down than bread, apparently.

The nausea continues, although it’s worse of an afternoon and evening, meaning that I am trying to pack in all my calories of a morning time, which is usually a poor time for eating anyway, due to the lax gastric system. I can’t really win, but I’ve managed to gain a kilo in the last six weeks, putting me at a mere two kilos lighter than my pre-pregnant (and finally healthy) weight.

I’ve finally hit what I am calling the half way point of this pregnancy. At 19 weeks, 3 days I am half way there, based on my last pregnancy. It’s starting to become very urgent (inside my head) that things get DONE and SORTED and I’m pretty sure that I’m driving Nathan mad.

Having the greenhouse built is a huge tick on my to-do list, because I’m hoping to have a few grow-bags full of spinach and herbs, so that in the post-newborn haze, I have some fresh veggies to work with. Not to mention somewhere quiet to sit and hide from my older children.

Speaking of older children, it’s Easter holidays and success has been redefined to mean that no one needed copious band-aids, that meltdowns were minimal and held in a bedroom, not at my feet and that everyone ate at least one piece of fruit or veg during the day. My standards are super low and I am good with that.

Success is also defined by the fact that I am still walking and mobile – albeit slower than usual, due to all my internal organs squashing my lungs. I can feel that I’ve lost muscle tone, which I can also deal with, considering the most energetic thing I can manage is pottering around the kitchen throwing things in the general direction of the sink, before giving up and having to lay down again.

The big ultrasound is in less than a week now and I must admit, I’m excited to find out the sex of this baby. My money is on a girl, for the record. I’m determinedly not thinking about the possibility of heart problems, or the sub-chorionic bleed that was hanging around in there. I figure as long as there is kicking happening on a regular basis, then I can count everything a success.

Right?

SUCCESS.