Ada and Sophie

When I found out I was pregnant it was my dream that the baby and Sophie would become best friends. Not straight away, but eventually. This was always going to be difficult because Sophie is a very particular cat (aren't they all). She won't sit on your lap unless you are sitting on the her expensive armchair with a cushion on your lap (never, ever directly on your lap). She won't sleep anywhere in the bed - it must be in the lower right hand corner of the bed i.e. exactly where I want to put my feet. 

Now that Ada is sitting up and taking things in she loves to look at Sophie and watch her walk across the room, jump onto things/out the window. For her part, Sophie has a healthy tolerance over her, coming over for a sniff or a hand nudge every now and again. She has never shown any aggression towards her (well apart from the first day we bought Ada home and she hissed at her, but I'm putting that down to her thinking it was another cat or something) which is good.

A couple of weeks ago Ada and I were lying in her room in the afternoon, just being silly. The afternoon is the best time to get Ada to laugh - she is just the right amount of contentedness and tired to find anything I do amusing. However that afternoon, she reacted to Sophie in a way that I've never seen her do. Although I found it really funny, I quickly picked her up and reassured her that everything was okay

For the record their relationship is usually like this

Ramblings about the last six months

I still find it odd to know what I was doing 'x' months ago. This time six months ago I was waiting to get discharged from hospital and take Ada home. (Side note: my anti-natel teacher told us when we want to get discharged to be incredibly insistent to everyone who came into to see us. And I mean everyone. Every nurse, porter, person bring me food, we would tell them that we need to get discharged, we are leaving today. The post labour ward was horrendous. The midwives there were awful, and the polar opposite of the midwives on the delivery ward. Part of me understands their attitude - they probably have twenty or thirty mums and babies to deal with, but it didn't stop me hating them any less. At one point during the first night, Ada was crying and crying and I couldn't get her to stop. Dave had gone home and I felt all alone. I called a midwife to help me and she said that Ada was probably hungry and why not try feeding her. Because she was little and I think newborn babies get tired very easily she wasn't feeding well. The midwife put her hand on Ada's head and practically shoved her face into my boob. A lot more roughly than I would have done. Again, I understand that babies are a lot more resilient that one would think, but she wasn't even a day old. It a lot to take).

Where was I? Oh yes, 6 months ago. I feel like having a baby has both made time stand still and fly by. A complete contradiction, but babies, or at least Ada, always is. I think some of the reasons for this, for me, was that I was living day to day, and then week to week. When she was say, two months, I wasn't looking down the line to five, six months. I was just in the moment, dealing with whatever was happening in that week. Consequently, when you stop and take stock of your life you think 'do I really have a six month old baby. How the hell did that happen?'. 

I was looking back at a video I sent one of my sisters when Ada was around two months, and said something like 'Ada really loves the toucan (a toy she had on her playmat). Looking at it now she was so disinterested but I was so excited. Comparatively, Dave and I took her to the playground yesterday and she loved the swings (not like last time)                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 and was so expressive. But it makes me think, in six months from now, will I think the same about her and the toucan? Who knows, but it will be fun to find out 

I'm still breastfeeding her (except at night when she has a bottle of {expressed} milk). I really didn't think i would be at this stage, especially since she has one tooth that has broken through. In fact I remember saying, aloud, I'm going to stop breastfeeding her when she gets teeth. But there is something really special about breastfeeding her. A connection that only her and I share. Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to feed her until she's two or three (not that there's anything wrong with that) and I completely and utterly understand why people do it. It's just not for us, long term. Also I'm going back to work in November (sob) so logistically it just wouldn't work.

Dave's boss at work said to Dave before we had Ada, watch out for the NCT mum's group - they tell each other everything. Dave laughed it off, thinking 'yeah right, that will never happen', but we probably do. I certainly don't (consciously) censor myself. I love my NCT mums. It's an odd concept NCT. Pretty much pay a couple if hundred pounds to make friends. And it really is pot luck as to whether you'll all get along. But we all do. There is something comforting about going through the same together, roughly around the same time. We catch up every Tuesday and take about everything under the sun, but poos always feature. I don't know what I would do without these girls. In the first weeks, months, I would be messaging the frantically about something that Ada was doing (pretty much always feeding related) and they would always reassure me that everything is okay, that their babies are doing the same thing too.

                        

Flying solo

On Wednesday Dave went to Lisbon for work. I say work in the looses possible way because it was more eating and drinking. And by eating and drinking, I just mean drinking. Which meant that I was playing single mum for a couple of days, which is hard work. 

We tried to keep busy by filling our days up. On Wednesday, Allie, her baby Poppy, Ada and I went to 'The Cornershop' a shop where everything is made entirely out of felt. It was pretty impressive. I wish I had the dedication to sit for seven month and make endless amount of felt crisps. 

(continued after the jump)

A birth story

I ummed and ahhed about posting this. Part of me thinks does anyone really care? Is it incredibly self indulgent? Do I want acquaintances (hello!) knowing? But then I thought, I'm already forgetting what it was like, six months on. Who knows what I will remember a year, two, six years from now. And it is something I would like to tell Ada, if and when she wants to know.

Ada was due on the second of February and that day came and went with not a peep out of her. I had seen my midwife the week before and she said that she was spine to spine and not engaging. I was devestated. I had planned to have a home birth and the longer I went overdue the more chance I had of being induced and ergo not having the baby at home. 

I tried to keep myself busy with various things - meeting my NCT mums, seeing people for lunch. On Thursday the sixth of February I had a pregnancy massage booked that Emily, a NCT mum, recommended. I told this lady, Fiona, that I was four or five days overdue, that I was feeling a bit down about it, planning on having a home birth etc etc. She gave me a lovely massage, and afterwards gave me a big hug and a kiss. It was almost as though she filled me back up with positive energy. I left the massage feeling less sad about the situation and went to meet Dave for lunch. The next day, the Friday, I had another meeting with my midwife. Nothing had happened with the baby, I don't think it was spine to spine, more on it's side. She did a sweep (it's gross and I wont go into the detail, suffice to say it is supposed to bring on labour) and I left to meet two good friends for lunch. I was relaxed after my massage and lunch with Dave the previous day, and this further added to it. Great food, a nice glass of wine, and laughing a lot with friends. I left feeling rejuvenated.

Dave and I lounged around that evening and around midnight we went to bed. We had only turned the lights out for ten minutes or so when I felt a distinct drop, which was most likely the baby dropping into my pelvis (I presume) followed by a contraction. But not knowing what the baby engaging would feel like, or a contraction for that matter, I kept saying to Dave 'I think this is labour? Do you think this is labour? It must be labour, I haven't felt anything like this before'. So we (or I) concluded that it must be labour. 

We had also hired a birthing pool, which Dave set up that evening. About an hour or two into it, the contractions were coming strong and fast (in hindsight) but I just remember feeling incredibly tired. I kept trying to sleep between contractions, but it was no use. I was also prescribed cocodamol, which is paracetamol and codeine, which I was told could make me nauseous, but was good for pain relief (at this point all I had at home before a midwife came with gas and air was the birthing pool (water) and a tens machine). After I took it, I was violently ill and threw up that night's dinner in the middle of a contraction and lost my mucus plug (again, gross, and I wont go into the detail). I completely freaked out. We called the home birth midwife, but the local midwife was not available so we were redirected to the second on call midwife, who was an hour or so away. But at three in the morning, it only took her forty-five minutes to get to me. 

Once she was here, she checked to see how far along I was, and concluded that I wasn't four centimetres dilated and that my waters probably hadn't broken (either of which would have meant that she would have stayed with me). She said to call back when my waters broke or I had three contractions in ten minutes. 

Looking back, Dave and I were timing my contractions completely wrong. I had an app on my phone and would tell Dave when the contraction started, but it was more like when the contraction was getting strong. I went to a yoga birthing workshop and the teacher said that contractions are like walking up a hill. It starts off gently, you get half way and then when you think you can go no further, you're at the peak of the hill and the contraction has stopped. I was telling Dave they started when I was halfway up that hill.

So we trundled on, mistiming our contractions. Somewhere along the way my waters did break, but I have no idea when, or why I didn't call a midwife then. I think I was waiting for the contractions to be more frequent. I would move from the birthing pool, to kneeling in front of the couch and back and forth. The water was good, but I was so tired, I just wanted some where to lay my head between contractions, so the couch was good. 

At some point that morning, perhaps around seven am, I went to the toilet and noticed (what I thought was) a lot of blood. I panicked. The thoughts that ran through my head was 'something is wrong with the baby and I've made this really selfish decision to have this baby at home, and now i've endangered this baby's life'. We rang the local midwife, but still couldn't get through to them, so we were put through to the midwife that came out at three am. She was now an hour and a half away, and it probably would have taken her at least that time to get to me, given the fact that it was early morning now. We didn't know what to do and she said to call an ambulance. 

So Dave called the paramedics. Whilst he was on the phone to them, the first responders came. They took one look at the blood and said 'it's nothing'. But not knowing what a normal and abnormal amount of blood is during pregnancy, they said my reaction was normal. The paramedics in the actual ambulance arrived not long after (the first responders probably took three or four minutes, max, to arrive). Dave was on the phone to the midwife as well as speaking to the paramedics. They asked what I wanted to do - did I want to stay at home or go to hospital. I couldn't make a decision. A huge part of me wanted to stay at home, but desperately wanted someone to stay with me. The night shift home birth midwife was switching over to the day shift midwife, and we just couldn't get hold of anyone close by. In the end, the midwife on the phone to Dave just said take her to hospital (side note: I went to two home birth workshops and one of the things that came out of it was that the always err on the side of caution). So with the decision made for me, Dave and I got in the ambulance and made our way to St Thomas'.

I got into the labour ward at around eight / eight thirty, and had a midwife, Olivia, came and checked how far along I was. She was a young midwife, perhaps mid twenties but beyond lovely and positive and kind. She said she was newly qualified to the head midwife would come in from time to time. I remember Olivia asking how far along did everyone think I was. The head midwife said five centimetres, Dave agreed with her, and I said seven centimeters. It turned out I was right. I had gotten to seven centimetres dilated without any pain relief except for a tens machine (and a bit of gas and air in the ambulance ride over). Olivia said that she would be staying with me now and that the labour would move along quite quickly. I think I contracted for the next two hours and around eleven am, I got a strong urge to push during a contraction. I told (or rather screamed this) to Olivia, and she said if that's what my body is telling me than just go for it. 

Now if someone were to say to me describe on contraction, apart from comparing it to that walking that hill, I have no idea what the pain is like. I remember after I gave birth to Ada I thought I would never forget it, but now? Nada. However, the sensation of pushing her was horrendous. But a good horrendous. I think in my mind I knew the pain wouldn't last, so I could handle it. And, obviously I got to meet our baby in the end. 

After an hour of pushing, the baby crowned and Olivia said that it would be out with the next contraction. And pop! next thing the baby was out, and Dave told me it was a girl. Our Ada was born, on the eighth of February at eleven fifty-seven pm, weighing seven pounds eleven ounces. 

I didn't get the home birth that I wanted, and part of me will always wish that I did. I would have loved to have crawled into our own bed with our baby afterwards, but it wasn't meant to be. I still had a great birth, largely due to our midwife who just a ball of happiness, and no matter where I gave birth, as long as Dave was beside me, I would be okay.

We didn't have many pictures of the birth, but I'm pretty sure that this is the first photo of her

A walk in the park

On Tuesdays Ada and I catch up with the other NCT mums and babies. This past Tuesday we went to Allie's house and afterwards Allie and I went Southwark Park to take Poppy and Ada on the playground.

Ada was impassive about it all. Completely devoid of emotion - except perhaps a slight interest in what the other kids were doing. In hind sight it was probably because she was tired. Hopefully our next trip to the park will be more exciting.

Six years...are jus serious?

Dave and I got married six years ago today. Six bloody years. It feels beyond ridiculous to write that. It still feels like yesterday. So much has changed since then. I've moved jobs, we've bought a house. I've made new friends, lost some, turned thirty oh and had a baby. But I think the biggest thing that has changed from year five to six is the love that I feel for him. I was worried that having a baby would affect our marriage (doesn't every movie tell us this is what is going to happen?) and it did, but for the better. The love that I have for him is magical, all encompassing, never ending.

Hunny, I love you to the moon and back.