Tuesday, November 24, 2015


It's been six weeks now since Ember arrived, totally chilled and completely ok with being outside of the womb. She's the total opposite of her sister and compared to baby Lil's behaviour, the perfect baby. Obviously I'm not that naieve and know there will be times in the future when she acts like an utter monster but for now let's just focus on these lovely peaceful times.

a lovely peaceful time

Having two kids is fucking mental. It takes two hours minimum to leave the house and I have to make sure everything is ready for us the night before... outfits, bags, nappies THE LOT because if it isn't then we are fucked, basically, and it adds on another hour plus. My bedroom looks like a launderette, my bathroom like Mothercare's baby change room, my kitchen like it's been trashed by the dog. I have a stack of magazines that are waiting to bed read, washing that needs putting away since last wednesday and so many emails to reply to. WHERE DOES THE TIME GO? Mental.

It is wonderful though, seeing the girls together. Lil loves her little sister so much she could burst and I can see that Ember feels the same. She smiles when she's around but it takes me some solid work to get her to crack a smile. High maintenance or what.

loves a cuddle, this one

I've really fallen behind with this blog and I'm cross with myself because I have so much to tell you and lots of lovely things to show you. Just give me 8 more hours in the day and we're golden.

Tuesday, October 27, 2015


My decision to have another c-section wasn't an easy one really. I was all set to go for a water birth and was feeling quite excited about it but things don't always turn out the way you want them to, do they?

Walking Lil to school and back everyday is quite fun. we play games and have chats and no matter what the weather is doing I always make sure we make the effort to walk (most of the time, anyway) but as my pregnancy progressed through the final weeks I found the SPD got worse by the day. I'd dread it but as I don't drive it was the only option really, although as soon as I found my legs and hips giving way on the walk, I knew I was absolutely fucked in terms of a water birth.

I spoke with my midwife about the pain and how I was worried I wouldn't be very mobile during labour and although the water would help with the SPD, I was finding it near impossible to get in and out of the shower, let alone a birth pool. She was very supportive when I told her I wanted to book in for an elective section and the consultant signed it off two days later. Such relief although I was disappointed.

I arrived at hospital at 8am on the morning of the 12th October, anxious but trying very hard not to show it. The midwife looking after me was so lovely and assured me it would all be ok. I met the surgeon while I was having my obs done and told him I thought he smelt nice and then realised just how nervous I was to be cracking jokes with the man who was about to perform abdominal surgery on me, I was mortified.

Soon it was time to walk to theatre and I said goodbye to my tearful mother, rolling my eyes that she was getting emotional. This was going to be a walk in the park! Stepping into the exact room where Lil was born was pretty surreal, especially as I was drug free up until that point and could see it with a clear head. I tried not to look around too much, it was a pretty scary scene with all the machines and stainless steel. The scrubs nurse just happened to be the midwife who was with me when Lil was born so I knew that was to be a good omen for this time round.

After the spinal (for which I had to lie down for because I had a bit of a spazzy dizzy spell) I felt very relaxed but could feel just how anxious my husband was. The anaesthetist keep me distracted from what was going on over the sheet blocking my view and before I knew it I felt strong pushing down on my abdomen and within minutes I heard a shrill cry. My baby was born to 'Crazy in Love' by Beyonce and sweet jesus was I crazy in love. It all happened so quickly, never has an hour passed by as fast as that hour did. It was surreal, insane, emotional, scary, sooooooo relaxed. I had skin to skin and she breastfed straight away.

Born at 09:54 weighing 6lb 10oz

Ember Dorothy's birth was wonderful. Although I knew recovery would be tough, and it has been, we bonded right away and she is such a chilled out baby. I made peace with the traumatic delivery I had with Lil and have recovered way quicker than I did with the emergency c-section. Although her birth story is short and sweet, it was a very powerful experience.

If this birth has reminded me of anything, it's how wonderful the NHS is. Alright, a c-section isn't ideal for anyone involved but my decision (although in a way it felt like a choice I had to make) was the right one. I now have two beautiful girls and I couldn't be more proud of myself.

Total mum-boss.

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Chocolate oat cookies

I am in the final few weeks of my pregnancy and god what a chore. I'm too tired, really, to be bothered to do anything strenuous and as my SPD seems to have gotten a lot worse over the past week my daily seven mile walks have had to stop. Ahoy continually expanding arse.

What I have continued to do though is cook and bake and I've been thinking of yummy things to make to put in Lil's lunchbox (little fusspot won't eat school dinners unless it's fish friday). She is a massive cookie lover (definitely my child) so I've been trying to come up with a recipe that doesn't contain a shit ton of sugar because I don't want a bollocking from the school about healthy packed lunches. So after some experimenting, here we go...

100g butter, softened
4 tablespoons of sweet freedom (or agave syrup)
1 egg
120g plain flour
120g rolled oats
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon bicarb of soda
Chocolate chips (I added 6 tablespoons of dark chips)

Mix the butter and sweet freedom together, add the egg. Pour in the flour and mix then add oats with the baking powder and bicarb of soda. Once mixed altogether add the chocolate chips. Roll into small balls, about 5cm, and flatten out. Bake in oven for 10 minutes at 180 degrees.

It's really as simple as that. No faffing. And they're super tasty. I didn't just eat three of them.

Thursday, September 24, 2015

The hormonal bear

I can't hold it in any longer. I HATE BEING PREGNANT. I really hate it. I mean, it's amazing to be able to grow a baby and being a woman shits all over being a man. BUT I just really don't like being pregnant. I'm at that stage where I'm moaning to anyone who will listen and even if they aren't listening I'll still moan. 

I'm uncomfortable. And not that annoying uncomfortable where you've eaten too much and can't get comfortable (that normally happens to me on a regular basis), OH NO. I'm so fucking uncomfortable I want to punch myself in the face so hard to detract from the uncomfortableness I'm feeling. Or maybe chop the top of my finger off or something, just a slither of finger that will grow back. I feel like if this baby gets any bigger, my stomach will split open down the middle and blood and guts and baby will fall out. And if I have to turn over in bed one more time my pelvis will crunch and crumble into a billion pieces of bone. I am a large, slow bear who just wants to hibernate. That is what being heavily pregnant relates to. A big old bear in the winter. I am a hormonal bear who wants to hibernate but can't because she cannot get comfortable.

I can also imagine this is how it feels to be three years old and have to exist. To be asked to do something by your parents like pick up a toy or eat your pasta and it's like how fucking dare they ask me to pick up this toy? Who do they think they are? It's a bit like that. I want to throw myself on the floor (it would be a struggle) and scream and kick until I turn blue. How fucking dare I be this heavily pregnant and uncomfortable. It's awful. Something so amazing making me feel so irate all of the time. And this is the part where you go, oh but you're so lucky to be pregnant. I KNOW I AM. I am blessed (vom), I understand that. But it doesn't make it any fucking easier carrying this great lump of a child. I'm five foot two and I usually weigh the right amount for my height and right now I weigh almost two fucking stone over that. DO YOU KNOW HOW UNCOMFORTABLE THAT IS FOR SOMEONE SO SHORT?? I don't think you do because I am the only pregnant woman in the world.

So I'm going to God damn complain about it because as a woman whose body struggles with pregnancy, I'm allowed to. I'm tired. I ache, like devastatingly ache. I'm devastated that I ache so much. That it hurts so bad. I want to be one of these women who are so at one with being pregnant but I am not. I hate it. It is a means to an end, the end being a baby who is no longer kicking the shit out of my insides but who is keeping me up all night screaming. THAT I can do. I'm happy to do that (not that I will have much choice, it's what I signed up for... I just didn't sign up to feel devastatingly uncomfortable). I'm welcoming the pains of labour, I know they hurt (I laboured to 6cm) and I know it's going to hurt even more if I end up having this baby naturally. Well bring that shit on. I want a burney vagina, not burney ribs. Not sore insides. I want a sore vagina. Cracked nipples. Give me all of that just, get this pregnancy out and give me that baby with her high pitched screams and tiny fingers. 

I am never doing this again.