My First Freak-out

Last Wednesday I had my first proper freakout.  My boy stopped kicking me reducing me to a shivering, quivering crying mess.  My boy has been a good wee kicker, a nice routine especially in the evening.  But this night, he just didn’t give me a nudge in the tummy like normal.

I’d been browsing the net after a busy day at work not really noticing when Jared asked if our boy had been kicking well today.  Then I realised I hadn’t felt him since I’d been home…  eek, worry starts to creep in.  Then off to bed when he definitely gives me a few quick kicks before sleep.  Still nothing.  I, we, lay there waiting for the movement. 

It’s amazing how quickly my mind flicked through everything I’d need to do practically if I didn’t get that kick, if that heart had stopped beating – go to hospital and confirm, ring work, deliver my baby, pack away all the blue I’d just filled the draws with so I’d now have one box of unworn pink and one of unworn blue newborn clothes!  All this while I was a shivering, quivering crying mess.

And then, my boy… he woke up and gave me a big kick in the tummy. 

My gosh how I LOVE that feeling.  How I cherish his movements, his confirmation that “hey mummy, I’m here and ok – I was just having a big sleep!”.  Darn it little boy – I love you soo much, no more giving me frights like that.

The next day at work I was telling a fellow male co-worker about my freak-out.  I know he was trying to be helpful but his down playing comment of “Oh Di, babies don’t kick all the time” really didn’t help.  Yes, tell me that once you have had a child die inside you and the sign that they had died was their lack of movement (pretty sure you wouldn’t if you had).  

I know you can’t understand but there is no way you can ever diminish my fear.  Don’t try to comprehend because I doubt you can.  The fear I have is real, based on experience.  I hope history does not repeat, but I know that it could and can. 

I love this child in my belly and am so glad that his kicks have returned to normal again over the last few nights.  So is his dad!!

The new kiddo

I’ve been slack at writing.  There’s so much to write about – lots rattling around in my brain, but its winter time in the Southern Hemisphere and I’ve been hibernating. 

I’ve been spending time with my growing bump, enjoying every kick that makes me know that the kid is there, rolling around getting comfy.

The new kiddo is tracking along well – measuring ahead at the last scan.  The new kid will be a little brother for Amelia.  

I love knowing he’s a he.  Connecting and bonding with my new little boy.  It still seems surreal that I might have a baby to care for outside of my tummy at the end of this pregnancy, forever hopeful but just unable to grasp the reality as strongly as I had already done with Amelia.  I’ve started the task for packing away all the girly pinks, peaches and purples and have started filling the draws with blues and greens – nothing new so far, I haven’t been brave enough to purchase, but a lot of hand-me-downs from his cousin Luke.

I’ve also had some aargh moments lately – getting frustrated still by happy people who are in their first pregnancy and just a bit frustrated I can’t just be like that too!  I get jealous of the people who already have babies and as Amelia’s first birthday approaches I think of other parents planning their babies’ first birthday celebrations.  I can’t imagine ever wanting to go to the parties and it makes be nervous that I’m going to be a bad mum to this new kid.  Will my unwillingness to go to these celebrations mean he misses out?  Will my own inadequacies, my own sadness at what his sister has missed or what I have missed out on with his sister, my own intolerances, my own fear – mean that he won’t have a normal childhood but instead one with an overprotective mother who can’t let him join his peers?  I hope not.  I hope once he is born my outlooks, my mindset will change.  I seem to do a lot of hoping lately!