Arse! 5, July 2010
Posted by babychaos in Adult Content, General Wittering, Grumpy Old Bag, Small Scale Disasters, whinging.6 comments
The little rat arsed drunken bastards who scream their way up my street every Friday and Saturday night (oh for a water cannon… or a megaphone, a few rounds of “shut the fuck up you loud mouthed prick” followed by high velocity squirting would be very satisfying) have stolen one of our green balls again only this time they’ve hidden it more thoroughly and my efforts to get it back have proved fruitless.
I’ll have to go back to hanging baskets which die because I forget to water them or buy another pair of balls which is annoying because they’re fucking expensive… When I do, I’m thinking I should fill them with dog pooh… or Chewie’s, perhaps! At least that way there’s a chance the little shits who nick the next one will get wiels disease. I mean bloody hell! When I was young, we nicked street furniture, we stole from THE MAN! Nobody stole stuff from real people even if we thought they were rich which, presumably because we have the temerity to live in a big house, is what’s happening to here…
Oh dear, there I go getting fed up with the resident in-laws for their apparent view that everyone, in the entire world who is under 25 or who sees the world in a way that is the tiniest bit different from them is devoid of any redeeming features and may as well be put in prison straight away and I go and say that…
No, actually I never said that all young people are feckless bastards… but by the laws of averages, some of the feckless bastards will have to be young people. It’s unfortunate that they’re the ones who walk home down my street every Friday and Saturday night.
Tossers.
Hell is other people… scaremongering gits who are already parents. 7, June 2008
Posted by babychaos in Adult Content, Art, General Wittering, Grumpy Old Bag, Life and living, Pregnancy Issues, whinging, winging.Tags: inducing birth, induction, labour, labour and pregnancy, labour nerves, laid back and pregnant, people and pregnancy, pre birth nerves, pregnancy, pregnancy and birth, Pregnancy Issues, reactions to labour, reactions to pregnancy
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Today I am in good cheer on the whole but a conversation I had last night is beginning to really get to me. So much so that I thought that if anyone else out there has had this kind of experience I should put it here. At least that way it it might help someone in the same boat to know they’re not alone!
If they want to leave a comment on this post it’ll help me to know they’re out there and all – although I’ve posted it on a forum, too, which should cover that side of things.
Ok, as ya’all know this is my first pregnancy and I’m on the cusp of week 42, with an induction booked for Wednesday and yeh, I’m nervous. I’ve never done this before and now it looks like I may have to do something which is already difficult in what is, reputedly, a fairly grim manner. Although the jury’s out on that, I like the sound of labouring fast, even if harder is a slightly scary verb!
Anyway, the way I see it, there’s no point my crying or railing or struggling because that’s a waste of energy, energy I’m going to need. My little one is going to arrive soon. Labour varies from woman to woman but the odds are, it is going to smart a tad and furthermore, in the days and weeks afterwards my world is going to turn upside down – in a hard way, yes but also in a good way.
If he doesn’t engage and arrive before Wednesday, being induced may well hurt more than ordinary labour. The only good thing is, this being my first, at least I won’t really know… and at the end I’ll get most of my body back and I’ll finally get to meet the little blighter!
Well, when people ask me how I feel and I tell them that, I could really do with just being jollied along or reassured – honesty is not a problem, telling me yes it hurt like hell but all things must pass is ok – and most people do just that, or say nothing.
However, there’s another element, among my friends who already have children, who seem to think that making me as frightened as they can is a helpful and constructive thing to do.
Why? Explain please?
We all know that one of the secrets to a good labour is to be as calm and relaxed as possible. These people are supposed to like and respect me so how do they believe putting me into a blue funk is likely to improve the experience?
When I tell them I’m just going to do the best I can they ask me if I fully appreciate how difficult it’s going to be or how much agony I will be in, whether I realise how important it is that I somehow force the baby to come before the hospital steps in.
When I say Mr BC and I will muddle through they ask me if I understand just what I’ve done to my life and my marriage?
Hmm… well, what do they think I am? Stupid? I’m a first time mum after 12 years of marriage at almost 40, do they really think we haven’t had time to think this through?
I know when you’re pregnant everyone thinks they own you, I appreciate you are far less likely to be treated with courtesy by people you don’t know, to be offered a seat on a bus or served first in a shop than if you are say, on crutches (I have done both). Those are strangers, though. These are my friends.
Is it me? Am I too naive or too laid back? Or is it them?
What the fuck is going on?
The worst thing is, it’s quite hurtful and it’s getting to me a bit… and I really don’t need that kind of thing right now, I have enough to concentrate on. So… I wonder, has anyone else had to put up with any of this kind of shadenfreude? It’s like they think they had a crap time and now they want to make sure I do.
Sighs. There we go. Rant over.
Fucking annoying bastards!
Oh well, on the upside, an old friend, who was given one of my names for each of her little ones, has been made a godmother and has contacted me to commission a framed name, along with three sets of flashcards!
Boo yacka!
It’ll also be something to keep my mind off the going or not going into labour conundrum next week and for the purposes of my maternity allowance my first “keeping in touch” day – I’m allowed 10.
Inducements… 6, June 2008
Posted by babychaos in Adult Content, General Wittering, Grumpy Old Bag, Life and living, not while you're eating, Pregnancy Issues, whinging, winging.Tags: birth, fed up, hormonal, induction, labour, overdue, overdue pregnancy, pregnancy, Pregnancy Issues, pregnancy the end, pregnant, pregnant and jaded, pregnant week 41, whinging
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Inducement booked for next Wednesday, 11th June. Difficult to explain how delighted I am that there is now a finite finish to this – it’ll be busy and I may not get in on 11th or 12th but I reckon I have to have managed it by Friday 13th.
So… though I’m glad it will finish by then, at the same time I’m not at all looking forward to the concept of being induced which has been given a pretty universal thumbs down – barring one, possibly the rule-proving, exception – from everyone who’s experienced it.
No matter. The one positive comment came from somebody whose first child was induced. This is my first child, it’s not as if I’m going to know if I have a horrific labour. I mean, I am in that it’s going to fucking smart but since I’ll have nothing to compare it to, I will only really know if I have another and the labour goes swimmingly. Yes. Perhaps, in this case, ignorance truly is bliss.
Had my hormones “done” by the reflexology lady today. This should help the braxton hicks and other things that will cause the little blighter to lock and load, at the least. It’s not going to do any harm, anyway, which is the important thing. She suggested I have a sleep afterwards which I did… for three hours! I have woken a human dynamo!
Ah let’s hope they work and he locks, loads and arrives naturally before I get induced.
On a lighter note. Here are some of the things I am looking forward to after the baby is born.
1. Being able to sleep (this afternoon excepted) for more than 40 minutes at a pop.
2. Being able to see my feet.
3. Having ankles.
4. Being able to wear my engagement ring.
5. Being able to climb the stairs without gasping for breath and going blue.
6. Only my boobs aching.
7. Being able to bend down and pick things up.
8. Meeting my little one at long last.
9. Gradually, over time, being able to wear a variety of clothes rather than the ever dwindling number of outfits I can currently cram myself into – at present; a pair of winter cords for cold days and a pair of cotton capri-pants for hot days neither of which stays up.
10. Cutting my toe nails for the first time.
11. Doing one firm stool per day.
12. Riding a bicycle.
13. Being able to run.
14. Being able to wear more than one pair of shoes.
15. Being able to wipe my arse in ease and comfort!
16. Being able to sleep on my back – possibly even my front.
17. Not weeing like it’s a national sport.
18. Being able to dry my feet without pain and breathlessness to the point of almost losing consciousness.
19. Not having reflux.
20. Not having sinus.
21. Being able to stand up long enough to have a shower or blow dry my hair without getting so tired I want to go back to bed again.
22. An end in sight to the SPD exercises!
In short. Not being pregnant!
Meh for deffo. 2, April 2008
Posted by babychaos in Grumpy Old Bag, Pregnancy Issues, Small Scale Disasters, whinging, winging.Tags: chronic pain, dealing with pain, managing pain, managing spd, non-lifethreatening pregnancy complications, pain without analgesics, pregnancy complications, Pregnancy Issues, pregnancy pain, pregnant, recalcitrant babies, spd, transverse babies
7 comments
A meh day.
Ragged.
Last week, well on Sunday and Monday, the Muffin turned. No longer was he lying diagonally across me, with all his weight on the dodgy bit of pelvis he was upside down, the correct way and pain-wise, all was peachy. Hell on Monday I even cut the hedge…
Tuesday… the great conundrum… shall I go swimming or borrow my friend’s hot tub for an hour or two? Seeing as I feel so goddamn good, I’ll swim.
Noooo! That’s the wrong answer! Stupid, stupid, STUPID!
I go swimming, it’s lanes. There are two. Fast and slow. It’s a lie. They are splashy crawl and breast stroke. There is NO difference in speed. Both are fast.
Damn.
I get in and do 15 lengths of backstroke. I have to go faster than I want to because it’s very full and I am holding people up if I don’t keep pace – a pace I’d usually have no trouble with, I might add.
When I get out, I learn two things.
1. SPD and kicking. Absolute no-no! Whatever they say, breast stroke legs probably would be better.
2. At some point in the proceedings, the Muffin has retreated to the bottom again.
3. I can hardly walk to the changing rooms.
Nooooooooooo!
Night comes, pain comes, sleep – or at least deep sleep – doesn’t. I wake up feeling like shit and as if I haven’t slept.
Never mind. I have cheered myself up no end by having a haircut. For the next 24 hours or so I will look like a smart well turned out female. That’s good as for the most part I feel like there are actually three sexes, man, woman and pregnant. It’s great to feel womanly again.
This afternoon… not so great. I had a doctor’s appointment but the SPD smarting a tad I decided to eschew the bike and take my car. I jemmy myself into it, turn the key and what happens. Short of a sad metallic sigh, nothing. The battery is flat. It picks now, for the first time in about three years to die on me.
Arse.
I get out, lock it, admonish it for being a little bleeder and go get my bike. Luckily there is still time. I flee up the hill, or at least, creep up using the granny ring, all the while wheezing like an asthmatic pensioner with a 50 a day high tar fag habit. Just get there on time. Ask the doctor all my questions. She reassures me about the scary ones but there is no easy answer to the SPD. I will be in pain… for the next 9 weeks at least and for anything up to 6 months after the birth possibly ever, depending on whether it knits back right or wrong… oooh a post partum visit to the chiropractor essential I think..
She confirms my suspicions about the Muffin’s unusual diagonal position. Head on the left at the bottom, feet kind of half way up on the right. Unfortunately, the fact he tried two days upright and slipped back after the swimming is most likely to be less to do with the backstroke and more to do with his being comfy like that and therefore, disinclined to move to a less pain-inducing position.
Bugger.
Sometimes, even when life is great, it kind of sucks!
Random thoughts consigned to the scrap heap of cyberspace 