A completely average Wednesday morning, around 9:30AM. Rushing around my local Sainsbury’s with little L screaming, juggling piles of grocery shopping on the pushchair. Queuing at one of the few tills that hasn’t been turned into a ‘self-checkout’, I dare to look up and count annoyed co-shopper’s looks against encouraging fellow mummy-smiles.
Result: one cashier who looks like wanting to kill me, a drunken dosser who just about manages a smile, two annoyed grannies disapproving my parenting abilities, four silently smiling mums and six dads. SIX DADS? Now, what is going on here?
Have you ever been on a blind date with more than 17 participants? Well, I just came back from one. I was looking forward to this date with great anticipation, threw on my newest frock (Peggy ordered to buy one and off I went) and even applied some fake tanning lotion to my legs to look my best. Unfortunately, the self-tanning effect only kicked in a few hours after application, i.e. when lunch was served. I officially apologise to Being a Mummy to my left and Big M to my right for the biscuitty smell that developed slowly but steadily from underneath the table during mealtime.
Finally, I am not only allowed to drive again, I also feel capable of doing so for the first time in 10 weeks. In addition to the constant headache, sleep deprivation gives me the feeling of having a major hangover – without having had the fun of getting insanely wasted the night before. I don’t know if I am actually feeling better, or if I am just getting used to feeling spaced out all the time. What I definitely won’t get used to is being constantly weepy. It’s pathetic, really. There is not a single day where I won’t shed a few tears.
In my attempt to go over 42 weeks (despite UCLH hospital protocols and the likes), we went to have a check and the 3rd sweep at the post dates clinic on Monday, 6th. This is when they found out that the amniotic fluid had diminished. The consultant admitted that one of the sweeps could have caused a little whole and the leakage. Well, thanks for that! After a whole day of sitting around and waiting for scan appointments etc., I had to stay and finally agreed to be induced. The cost of a natural water birth seemed to be too high when paid for with a health threat for our unborn daughter.
After exactly 42 weeks, and when the hospital decided to keep me in for induction after a check rather then letting me go home, my waters broke all by themselves and little L began her journey towards us.
To my own surprise, I slept like a baby the night before our dreaded Post Date Clinic appointment. Apparently Big M soaked up all my frustration and my anxieties, as he was rolling from one side to the other and muttering in his sleep. Honestly, I think I would have gone mad by now, if he wasn’t at my side.
What is it with the NHS and midwife shortage in this country? How come they abandon you when you could need a little advice and hold you in their tight grip when you just want some peace and quiet?
The first time it hit me, I was walking down Islington’s Upper Street,
struggling under the weight of too many shopping bags, mobile phone in one hand, clutching files in the other.
I have never been known as the most esoteric person on this planet. I can hardly remember my star sign, let alone any implications that are supposed to come with it. And although my direct environment might not always come to the same conclusion judging my behaviour, I would like to consider my decisions to be mostly logical, thought through and goal oriented.