A line drawn

We had our review with the consultant the other day. We went through the cycle in detail and discussed every aspect. He said that I was perfect, that the embryos were perfect when they were frozen.  He said how surprised he was and how he wouldn't have predicted this outcome for us with so many top quality embryos and having had a successful pregnancy from that batch. He said he know we are searching for reasons why but he just doesn't have any and he, himself, has searched for the answers too. He explained just how rare this is for him. We discussed our options and said how we didn't ever envisage that we would have to consider a fresh try if we wanted a third child. We asked about our chances of a natural conception since that's what happened with Lucy (and we have been trying again since March 2017). He said he would look at the last semen results from the sample that created Stanley. He said that the sperm were fine in quality (which I didn't realise, I always believed they were dodgy in all ways) but the count is "really terrible". He used those words. We asked what we can do to improve the count but there isn't much aside from the usual loose pants, no alcohol. He did say that his brother's consultant in Norway suggested he sat his nether regions in iced water three times a day. Can you imagine? I don't think that's something that we will be trying some how!

So there it is. The end of our reproductive journey. I doubt we will ever embark upon another fresh cycle (we simply don't have the money and have already had all the luck having S & L). But it is hard to get our heads around. My body has reacted badly to all the drugs, shock and upset and I've now been prescribed anti-depressants/sleep inducing drugs to get me through.  Work is looming after the summer break and I'm wondering if I'm able to function well enough to manage (I've already been offered a sick note from the GP but have left it for now). I know I am not coping. I'm a zombie and sleepy all morning. But September is a crucial time in my job and I have my exam classes to think about. I know many people would say that nothing is more important than your health but it's hard when you know you're the only one who can do your job, who knows your kids and their strengths and weaknesses. At present, I have no idea what I will do next week.

It was as we expected yet still feared

I haven't managed to post about it yet. But it was negative like we expected. I knew it would be. But I still didn't expect to feel as devastated as I did. I thought I had got used to the idea. But seeing a test with just one line was awful.

The end of the road has really reached us. Or rather, we have reached it.

Goodbye little embryos. You gave us hope.

The Night Before the End

Tomorrow is Official Test Day. OTD.

I'm sad. It's a weird emotion to feel but it's there because I feel that tomorrow will bring the final end to my reproductive chances; I doubt I will do any more treatment and so tomorrow will officially be the day that it all ends, that all hope of completing our family is gone.

I know we are lucky. We count our blessings every single day. But so do other people yet they still go on to have more babies. It feels like I am surrounded by people who plan their families and their families go according to their plan. It's really not fair. But when has life ever decided to play fair?

There's a tiny tiny sliver of hope deep down about tomorrow. But it's so tiny that I'm not going there, not letting it rise up and be counted as an emotion. Because that really would be getting my hopes up.

Eventually I'll update here with the result. It's less than 10 hours away. The thought of that has made me nervous.

How do I feel? Physically, my head and eyes have been aching today, almost like they would in a migraine but not as bad. I'm thoroughly exhausted (but we have just been in Scotland for a week, including camping for the last two nights with lots of walking). On day 8 past transfer I felt nauseous but other than that I haven't. I have felt hungry but then I always have a good appetite and high metabolism (mostly). The last couple of days my breasts have started to hurt at the sides. This is normal for me in the run up to a period. In fact, I didn't have aching breasts as a sign if pregnancy either time as far as I recall. I have had spotting on and off too but not in the last couple of days really. I know none of these symptoms mean much. But they might eventually serve someone useful.

Roll on tomorrow's first wee. I feel sick at the thought.

It isn't going well

Maybe I was right. Maybe we did use up all of our luck already?

Despite the cycle pretty much going to plan, when it came to defrosting our embryos last week it all came tumbling down. We decided to defrost 6 in the end, on the recommendations of the embryologists because we had so many and they wanted to grow them to blastocyst. In reality, when they defrosted them, 4 of them died, 1 lost a cell and 1 looked dodgy. We were so sad but tried to hold it together as we were at work. They decided to defrost the other six.

At this point I was upset because I thought we would get a few tries out of our 12 top quality embryos and now this was it. And it really was it. The new 6 were thawed and at close of play on the Tuesday 3 of them looked good. We had hope.  We still didn't know whether they would go for a blastocyst transfer or whether we would be in the next day for day three but they said that they would let us know. They did tell us that we needed to prepare for the fact that they might not make it at all. I spent most of the night in tears.

On Wednesday I'm somehow managed to miss the phone call but I called them back. It wasn't good news. None of the embryos had divided over night like they should have. There were four left. All poor quality. We were devastated. Our embryos, our last shot, Stanley's embryo twins, weren't surviving. I didn't stop crying for most of the day.

We went in for our transfer and the embryologist was lovely. She didn't know why or what had caused them to thaw so badly. The consultant also came to see us. He simply said "I'm so very sorry". It was like the words someone would use if they'd got very bad news. He said that he couldn't explain what had happened, that it was very rare.

I remember feeling anxious and upset at embryo transfer last time because they only let us have one back (Stanley) but that was nothing compared to this. I cried my way into the theatre, comforted by the nurses.

While I was laid down, legs akimbo in the stirrup footrests, a woman was talking to us. I think she was one of them embryologists that we had spoken to but I actually wasn't sure who she was. But she spoke about Stanley, of how they had just looked at the card we sent saying thank you after he was born. She asked to see a picture of him now. It must be amazing for them to see these parents coming back again, showing them the result of their handiwork.

Two embryos were placed inside me. The best of a bad lot. I have a scan picture of my tummy with a cross marking where they were placed. The fear that this could be my last ever abdominal 'baby' scan hit me like a tonne of bricks. M stroked my hair throughout. He did that last time too, I remembered when in theatre.

They now have a big tv screen and we got to see our embryos up close. We have a picture of them. But it felt futile. It doesn't feel like I'll be taking a photo of a baby every year on the 18th July like I have done with Stanley for the past 6 years. It feels like this was their goodbye. That these two embabies have come home to mummy to die in me.

I've felt so desperately sad. The consultant said it would take a small miracle. I already have 2 massive miracle children so another is really pushing it. I have cried so much in this past week or so. Last time I knew how many days past transfer I was every day. Now I can barely work it out. Now I'm 8 days post 3 day transfer (although the embryos were at day 2 cleavage stage).

I've also had a bit of bleeding and spotting so have had to increase my medication and pessaries. It really hasn't been a smooth two week wait. I have to test a week today. I already know the result deep down but it will still be hard to see the lack of a second line on the hospital test. I always thought I'd buy an additional test because last time the hospital one was rubbish. But I won't. It will tell me what I already know.

For now I'll keep shoving the pessaries up my arse and the pills down my throat, if only for another week. I am slightly hopeful every so often that we will be one of the miracle few who have this work like this in these crap circumstances. But I realise that it's not a straw that I'm clutching at here, it's a whisper of a seed from a dandelion, one tiny barb of a feather.  I know I'll be devastated on the 2nd of August.

I wrote in one of my newer posts that this was our last shot at completing our family and once the embryos were used up that would be it. But that was before we realised that this wasn't a fair shot. It's not a fair shot if your embryos don't survive the thaw and progress. All 12 of them.  So now I'm considering going again already. It's premature, yes. But I need to think about what happens when it fails.

There's been no talking to the embryos from daddy this time. No 'inside cuddles' like we did with Stanley. I've not even been too bothered about eating healthily. I figured that the deal is made. Me eating some chocolate won't change that at all.

Above all, I'm desperately sad. More so because we know what these embryos can become and how amazing they can be. It's probably futile now. They've most likely long since stopped growing (they would have implanted by now if not). But I'm pleading ever so slightly with the tiny embryos that they give life a shot. That they come and be a part of our family.

Injecting headaches

I've been on Buserelin for 12 days now and AF arrived yesterday. My next appointment is on 29th June, a week tomorrow. In terms of side effects, the main one is a constant headache. When I do my nightly injection it basically feels like I'm injecting headaches!

I'm trying to eat well but it's not working. A busy schedule and meals out planned isn't helping. I have been drinking pomegranate juice and having decaff tea so I've pretty much given up all caffeine. From next week I plan to get going more with pomegranate juice, good healthy foods and pineapple for the week of embryo transfer. I'm supposed to have lots of full fat milk too!

Watch this space.

It really starts here

On Sunday I did my first injection for this frozen embryo transfer cycle. It didn't really hurt and was quite underwhelming. But finally I was at this point. The Friday before I had a transvaginal scan to check that everything was ok given that I have been having stomach pains for the last few weeks. It was absolutely fine and the sonographer told me that I had not long ovulated from my left ovary, which was interesting.

Now it's day 4, I've done injection 4 and taken my 4th of 10 antibiotics. Now all I do is wait until my period arrives next week before ringing up the hospital to see what happens next.

I'm still having acupunctue and can almost see the finish line now. Just a few more before I'm in the two week wait. For real rather than the vague wisp of hope that I've had each month since we started trying for number 3. After Lucy, I really was hopeful.  But I also felt that deep down we would end up using our embryos. I don't believe in destiny. But it does feel like this is the path that I always thought I'd end up on since having Stanley.

Acupuncture

I had acupuncture last time we did IVF and I remember how I wasn't sure if it was doing anything at all but in my desperation I was willing to give everything a shot. I had read online about it increasing success rates and so I was all on board with the idea.  I remember my acupuncturist saying something to me like "when you have your baby in 9 months' time...." I can't remember what the rest of his sentence was but I can remember him saying this as it was the first person who talked to me as if I was actually pregnant when, at this point, I had just had a 4-cell embryo put back in. PUPO (pregnant until proven otherwise).

When we decided to try again I knew that I would have acupuncture again. It is pricey (£40 a session and I've so far had 6 due to the fact that treatment has been delayed) but when you're paying quite a bit for a Frozen Embryo Transfer (FET) then it seems almost negligible. In fact, we paid for our transfer in early April and so all we have to pay for now is the meds that I will need soon.


When I went back to acupuncture it was remarkable how much my memory was jogged and taken back 7 years, to his little studio at the back of his house.  The way that the metal staircase sounded as I walked up took me right back to May 2011. The Chinese music that he played throughout the treatment was exactly the same, to the point I knew what was coming next despite never even hearing it or thinking about it or even really remembering it happened until I was listening to it anew.  Tears pricked my eyes then because right then I remembered that the last time I had been here I hadn't even had Stanley. I hadn't even known he was going to stick around and grow. The magnitude of the feeling that "Wow, it actually worked" was powerful.

When you have IVF treatment and it is successful there are many moments that feel like this, especially once you have given birth. I remember walking casually past Stanley in his moses basket and doing a double take that it was actually him, that he was real.  I also remember M saying when we brought Lucy home for the first time and picked up Stanley from my dad's: "Look in the back of the car". And there they were, there THEY were, together for the first time. A family of four. Stanley AND Lucy, just like this blog. We did it, we had them BOTH. I remember writing somewhere on here "... they will come. Maybe one at a time, maybe together. But they will come" (I'll see if I can find a link later).  The overwhelming feeling of them actually both being here after all our struggle is still incomprehensible. Even sometimes now when I say "Stanley and Lucy" it shocks me that they're real and they're now 6 and 4!

So, sitting back in that acupuncture chair, hearing the Chinese music (with its singing I don't understand but yet speaks so much to me) took me right back. The only thing that has changed in these 7 years is that the acupuncturist is slightly greyer, a few more lines on his face.

But then, so am I. Only today I looked at a Facebook photo of a friend of mine from university, someone how I haven't seen in years and who doesn't normally post many up close pictures and I thought "Gosh, you look like you're mid-thirties". To which, I realised, that so do I. That, actually, that's exactly how old we all are. Rarely these days do I get mistaken for someone much younger, as was often the case. But, if my life has taught me anything then it is to appreciate growing old. Wrinkles, grey hairs and chin hairs, who cares? Growing old is a privilege that many don't get. I would rather be plucking another hair from my chin amidst the chaos of toy pizzas and cups of toy mushroom and orange concoctions that Lucy has lovingly made for me, standing on a playmobil figure that Stanley has left on the floor than having a less-hairy chin and having all the freedom and time in the world to tackle said not-hairy-chin.  Who am I kidding? I'd have had hairs on my chin regardless!

So, what's next? Monday is our first appointment at the hospital for this round. There we will sign forms and go through the treatment plan and I imagine get prescriptions for the meds. I think I shall be starting on the Buserelin injections in about a week! I'm anxious yet eager to start. I can't really remember what injecting myself is like nor can I remember what the side effects of Buserelin are like! Not long until I am reminded I guess!

Waiting Again

It feels like the time has come to resurrect the blog.  Why? Because we are Waiting Again. 

If someone had asked me pre-trying for a baby back in 2009 how many children I wanted I would have said three.  As far back as I can remember I have always wanted three.  Of course, once we hit the sub-fertility wall just one baby was enough. And we did it, we climbed over the wall and found ourselves parents and subsequently parents of a second, rather surprising naturally conceived baby. Finally, we had our children for whom this blog was made, long before they ever were. 

But there still was the desire to complete our family with a much-wanted third child. Of course, we now hoped that we could do it on our own. Early in 2017 we decided we should try. And, like our history before us, we tried and tried.  Every month came with a sliver of hope that we could do this; we have proven that we can.  Yet, rather like that first time trying, it hasn't and we found ourselves facing the year mark and wondering if we should use one of our frozen embryos from 2011. The embryos have a ten year expiry date and we have 12 four-cell embryos frozen, identical in size to their older brother. 

Back in January we bit the bullet and booked an eye-wateringly expensive consultation with our former IVF consultant. It was at 7pm on a dark and cold January night.  We had left Stanley and Lucy with a trusted friend, one of only two people who knew what we were doing. 

The consultation was not really what I was expecting. When paying for private treatment I had envisaged a clinical, white, chrome and pastel office with bright lighting. In reality it was a ground floor room in a building in the centre of a small local town with a brown leather sofa in a waiting area and a small room at the end with an old wooden desk inside. Our consultant welcomed us inside like we were old acquaintances. Given that it was 7 years since our last meeting, he seemed to know our story, all our details. Seeing him again after all this time brought back the memories of one of the last times I saw him, when he told me I was pregnant with Stanley. It is etched in my memory forevermore as is he.  

In the meeting, it seemed to be a fairly straight forward case of defrosting a couple of embryos and putting them back.  He told us that 4 of our embryos are top grade 4AA embryos and 4 are close at 4AB.  The others are slightly less but not bad by any means. He told us that given our history and success, we had about a 25% chance of success. Of course, I had been hoping for more. But, it is what it as and we have to have the hope that it worked once so there is no reason for not to work again this time. 

We decided that we would delay starting until after I had been away with work in early April. We were all geared up to start on the first day of my next cycle. However, I became really unwell with a whole host of ailments: a lump under my chin and a mention of breast pain at the doctors resulted in me being referred urgently to the breast clinic. Whilst waiting for that to come through I began to have significant pain in my lower right abdomen, had blood in my poo and generally felt unwell. I had an out of hours GP appointment but still ended up in A&E a couple of days later. They diagnosed a urine infection but had initially suspected appendicitis. I also had blood tests which were borderline but ok in terms of the markers for ovarian cancer, to my relief.  The pain faded but niggled on away in the back ground. The breast lump was a benign cyst and the lymph nodes that they were very concerned about reduced in size. I had the all clear so we were ready to go again. 

My cycle started and we arranged our first appointment to get going. Since then my stomach issues have returned and I've been referred for an urgent gynae scan. However, the GP does believe that the whole thing could be linked with constipation, which would make sense to me given some recent symptoms. I'm now waiting for medication to work. The joys! At present, we are still going ahead. I'm waiting for a call back from the nurses to confirm that they are all happy with this. 

In the meantime, we are just waiting. Also in the meantime people are getting pregnant and having children with ease and without ease.  Just yesterday I learned of an exciting twin IVF pregnancy. The world really can work miracles.  We just have to hope that we are allowed another miracle. Three is the magic number!  People may wonder why we are trying, why put ourselves through the stress, the medications, the heartache. But unless you've been in these well trodden shoes then you just don't understand. If you've had your children straightforwardly, or completed the family size that you wanted then it's impossible to grasp, and I try to understand that. 

I know that we just have to wait a little longer than most. If we use up these embryos and we are still without our third child then that will be it; we would not do another fresh round. But at least we will have tried. Maybe science and nature will be kind again. I can't help thinking we've used up our luck, but I don't really believe life works like that. 

I guess it's time to think names, albeit prematurely. After all, Stanley and Lucy had their names from some time in 2010 or 2011. Waiting for "baby 3" doesn't quite have the same ring to it!

My Stanley and My Lucy

It has been almost 4 years since I blogged. Life has most definitely got in the way. However, I am no longer WAITING. Not only do I have my Stanley (who is 4 years 4 months and going into reception in September), but I also have Lucy. Lucy Evelyn born on the 24th January 2014, 7lb 13oz.

Lucy is now two and a half. She came (naturally) 22 months after her big brother. Three years have passed since I found out about her impending arrival and I think, in some ways, it is still hard to believe.

So there you have it. I am no longer waiting for Stanley and Lucy, I have them both. When I created the blog I deliberately made the title of it "StanleyandLucy.blogspot" because I had hoped that I wouldn't always be waiting.

Lucy 

Stanley and Lucy

They're both such a delight. Our miracles in different ways. Stanley is bright and funny. He loves numbers, writing, colouring, dancing and paw patrol. Lucy is nurturing, kind and very stubborn and loves climbing, adventures and singing as well as playing with her dolls and anything that her brother has. She has also taken on her brother's previous love of Peppa Pig. She will eat anything and everything and lots of it!

Summing them up in such few words is hard!

An update

I'm pretty bad at updating this aren't I?

Stanley continues to be amazing, as ever!

Things he can now do:

• Roll on to his front from his back
• Rotate whilst on his back on the play mat
• Feed himself (well, help himself to the breast whilst we lay down to feed)
• Stick his tongue out on demand by copying us
• Pull the jiggly toy on his car seat so that it jiggles - I can't tell you how proud I was when he did that on the way to Scotland! He's learning cause and effect. I actually welled up!
• Pick things up straight away and pass them from one hand to the other

He laughs and smiles all the time and melts everyone's hearts, but mine most of all! His chuckle is adorable and he is ticklish under his arms.  He loves playing on his play gym and being outside.  He still loves swimming; we took him a lot on holiday. 

These last few weeks we have been incredibly busy and have been all over! We have visited friends and family and have stayed at Center Parcs, the Lake District, Menorca, Leeds, Sheffield, Scotland... Stanley is certainly well travelled! He takes it all in his stride and is such a good, relaxed baby. In the Lakes we went for a huge walk and got soaked to the skin (Stanley was in the sling) and joined in on the BaBs megameet! Menorca was amazing and very hot! Stanley was great on the plane and only cried a little.  We did lots of walking along the beaches and around the village and generally took it easy. We also visited a gin distillery and went on a boat around the harbour. We have just got back from Scotland and had a lovely time. I have another few locations for my 'extreme breastfeeding': a nudist beach in Menorca (I wasn't nude!) and watching two polar bears frolic in a pond at the Highland Wildlife Park in Scotland! 

We've been so busy that I'm struggling to remember everything we've done! He's well into his 3-6 month clothes now but will be in them for a while yet. Last week he only weighed 13lb 11oz! He's dropping off the 9th centile, but I'm not worried. He's happy and healthy and is doing just perfectly.  He's just little like his parents! 

Stanley cut his first tooth today! It's not quite out fully yet - just the tip sticking out! But it seems to have come as a surprise with none of the typical 'teething' symptoms that I've read about. 

Ooh! We now have a patio! My grandma mentioned getting Stanley a trike and it made us think that we don't have anywhere for him to ride it. It's fantastic and we're so pleased with it (and dead grateful to everyone who helped dig and lay it!). 

So, what's next? On Monday I'm doing a Keeping in Touch day at work.  I'm really nervous as it will be the longest I've left him.  I left him for the prom for a few hours and a couple of hours to go out for a meal but not all day.  Last night he successfully took expressed milk from a bottle so I'm hoping that he'll be ok. He'll be with my dad.  

In a couple of weeks we'll be starting weaning. I am planning on following the baby led weaning (BLW) approach - letting him self-feed rather than spoon feeding him.  I think I need to prepare for lots of MESS! I have already let him lick my canteloup melon - he pulled a bit of a face! He is certainly getting ready for it.  Everything is going in his mouth now and he watches intently while we eat and even grabs things off our plates if he's within range. 

Also, we have Stanley's service of thanksgiving coming up! It's in October but who knows if I'll have time to update this before then! We are looking forward to celebrating Stanley and saying thank you to everyone who has supported us over the last few years on our journey to becoming his mum and dad. We are even having a roast afterwards! 

All in all he's such a lovely little boy.  He's becoming just that - a little boy.  He's growing and changing so fast and I feel so lucky and blessed to be his mummy. I am cherishing every moment, even if I am sleep deprived and carrying baby weight.  Who cares when I have him?! 

What a difference a year makes!

One year since Egg Collection. Our boy has existed a year!

I thought perhaps it was about time that I continued a little with this blog.  Why today? Well, it's exactly a year since our miracle boy was created in that little petri-dish.  I cannot believe that a year has gone by since Egg Collection.

I think the title of the blog may need to be altered as we are no longer waiting for Stanley but we have him right here (this is why I made the web address minus the 'waiting' part, in the hope that one day we would no longer be waiting!).  It is going to take me a lot of catching up since he is now 14 weeks old, but I'm sure you can appreciate that it has been a very busy 14 weeks!

Newly born, the happiest moment of my entire life:

So, what have we, as a family of three, been up to?

After Stanley came home we had a huge influx of visitors for the first four weeks.  In fact, I don't think we had a day to ourselves for a long time.  It was great seeing how much everyone loves Stanley, how much everyone else has wanted and waited for him almost as much as us!

Here's a summary of Stanley's first few months:

Two days old: Stanley had his first trip out in the pram to post a birthday card. He had his first bath and daddy had made it too cold so he screamed the place down.  He enjoys his baths now!
Three days old: He met his very special auntie for the first time.
Four days old: We went into town and Stanley was oggled at by many a passer-by.
Five days old: We took him to our drama group's AGM! He came away with so many presents - a properly spoiled little boy!
10 days old: We met up with my bump buddy friend and baby (who was born the day before Stanley!)
12 days old: We did Stanley's first footprints

Two weeks old: His great-auntie bought him his jungle-gym playmat

19 days old: Stanley visits his grandma's resting place in the sling with his daddy
22 days old: Stanley was made official!
29 days old: Stanley's first proper smile, which I just happened to catch on camera!

I finally got discharged from the midwife at 29 days due to the feeding problems I was having (and continued to have up until 8 weeks!).  Bacterial infection, thrush... you name it.  But we ploughed through it all, mainly through sheer determination and will-power.  I said many times how I would have rather experienced labour or contractions again as the soreness from my nipples was that bad. I'm sure I'll write a post on breastfeeding at some point.





Aged 1 month:

In his second month Stanley has also been very busy! This month he:

5 weeks: took his boat for a sail in the local pond. It got stuck and daddy had to wade in to rescue it. He weighed 8lb13oz and he visited mummy and daddy's place of work, much to the pleasure of the staff and students.

6 weeks: Stanley brought his first painting home from baby social (his hand and footprints!), stayed on his own with grandad while I went to the dentist and he got his first cold! He weighed 9lb 6oz.

7 weeks: He visited school again and generally suffered with his cold. He also got his swing, which was a brilliant investment.

8 weeks: Stanley weighed 10lb 4oz this week and had his first waterbabies session. He even swam underwater! He also had his first jabs.  I felt awful in that I didn't get upset that he was in pain.  I perhaps felt that I should as my baby was suffering! I also met with a brilliant lactation consultant who helped with the feeding no end!

9 weeks: We went to waterbabies again and to the seaside for fish and chips afterwards. We also started baby massage which was great! This week we went on Stanley's first little holiday with our Drama group!

10 weeks: Stanley started to hit his toys on the baby gym and started sucking at his fists. We went to the farm to meet up with some BaBs girls and their babies and children. We also celebrated Stanley's great-grandad's 80th birthday and the Golden Jubilee.

11 weeks: This week was half term and we took Stanley swimming so that both of us could get in with him. He was such a good boy!

12 weeks: Stanley and I spent a lot of time this week working on a scrapbook for M's first Father's Day. Lucky M! Stanley weighed 11lb11oz this week. We also went to see the olympic torch! Stanley cried as it went past.

Father's Day:

13 weeks: It was daddy's birthday too this week - lots more presents and cards for M! We also took Stanley to watch his daddy in the choir concert.  It was the first time that Stanley had met the choir members.  The last time I went to choir was 5 days before he was born.

M's birthday: 

Looking cute: 

Three months: 

Stanley can now also grab toys!

14 weeks: Yesterday! Stanley now weighs 12lb 2 oz, so his weight gain is slowing. He is on the 9th Centile so is quite a diddy baby for his age.  I also got him some cream from the health visitor as I think he's inherited his dad's eczema, poor little sausage.

This is today - 1 year since he was created!

Baby Stanley

Here are a few pictures of my baby boy! Sorry they're not great - they're all off my phone for now!

I will try and do some proper updates with decent photos soon.

Stanley has arrived!

Apologies for the very (very) delayed post.


We were waiting for Stanley and he's finally here! He has been for a couple of months now but I haven't had the time or inclination to post.


Here is his birth story (gory bits and all!).


The Birth of Stanley Peter:


Sunday 18th March (Mother’s Day)


I woke up with a severe headache that I had had since the previous afternoon. I also thought that my lips and hands were a little bit swollen so at about 5:00am I decided to ring the Maternity Assessment Unit who told me to come down later to get my blood pressure checked if the pain killers didn’t work. I went back upstairs to find M in the shower. A while later M emerged from the bathroom and put his shoes on. It was only ten to six! I told him I was going back to bed and that we’d go to the hospital later.


At about 10:00am we went to the hospital and they checked my blood pressure which was fine. The midwife told me to get bouncing on the birthing ball to try and get labour going. After this we went to the supermarket and then had a mothers’ day lunch with my grandma, throughout which I felt a bit ill.
In the evening I got a really strong back ache and started to panic. I bounced on the ball and had more cervix pains (I’d been having them all weekend). M and I were playing scrabble and my mind wasn’t really on it because I was in pain. I was confused because it was constant and not contraction like or anything. When I went to bed I text my dad and asked him if he could come round the next day in case I went into labour.


Monday 19th March 2012


By the morning it was fine but dad still came round and we had a good chat. Later that night I was chatting on BaBs when I started to have slight period pains but they weren’t exactly noticeable though. We were chatting about laughing the baby out and having sex so when we went to bed that night I mentioned these two tactics to M who said that if we were going to have sex I’d laugh as soon as he got naked anyway. This set me off laughing and M continued to make me laugh for a while. He read the bump a story and all the way through he was being stupid and making me laugh.


Tuesday 20th March 2012


At about 4:00am I awoke with a pain in my back and it was very similar to what I’d experienced on Sunday night. I changed position to get more comfortable and drifted back off to sleep. A short while later I awoke again with the same thing, which surprised me. I decided to go to the toilet which is when I noticed a small bloody show in the toilet. Excited and nervous I grabbed a pad and went raiding my knicker drawer laughing quietly to myself. This woke M up and he asked what was going on. I said something along the lines of thinking that something was starting and he asked what I meant. I got back in bed and had a few contractions in the space of the next half an hour or so. I became more uncomfortable and became more certain that something was happening. I ended up on all fours with a pillow on the landing at one point. M was panicking a bit because it seemed really quite intense quite quickly. I began to curse M. I phoned the hospital who said to ring back when the contractions were three in ten minutes.


We decide that M would go to work. He was pacing about a bit and was even doing hoovering at 6:30am. I rang my dad at 7:00am and told him that I thought I was in labour and asked him to come round later on. M put on Absolute Radio on the Sky box and it stayed on this all day. Before he leaves for work I had a little cry and I made him kiss the bump, just in case the baby arrives without him there.


By 8am the contractions were about 5-6 minutes apart and 30-40 seconds long. I had a bath and even managed to shave my legs, some of my bikini line (that I could reach!) and my underarms. I started to cope much better and thought that they were slowing down a bit. I was able to snooze a bit in between contractions. I also began to think about how I should cancel my work’s leaving meal which was supposed to be happening at 4:30pm that night.


The post arrived and it was a little photo book from M's mum with photos from his birth in. He looked so cute and I spent ages looking at it, wondering if our baby would look like that.

I managed to take a final bump shot:




I text my dad asking him to come at 9:30am ish. By 11:30am the contractions are about every 7 minutes and dad is just sitting in the corner drinking coffee and snoozing. We’re not really talking. In between contractions I felt hungry but during them I felt sick! Dad made me some brown toast though which I managed to eat.


At 12:00pm it felt like I had constipation and was not at all like I expected contractions to feel like. I still felt ok though and sent my dad home. M was due home at about 5:30pm. I had another bath and lost more plug. Whilst in the bath (and thankfully between contractions), my colleague rang and we cancelled the meal. She knew I was having contractions so I didn’t need to make up another excuse. I got too hot in the bath and went and lay on the bed at about 1:30pm where I started to think that the contractions were stronger.


At 2:05pm it was really knacking and I was beginning to make noise. I started to think about getting M. I text him asking him to miss his piano lesson and come home at 4:00pm after orchestra. Five minutes later I text him again asking him to miss orchestra and come home at 3:00pm. Two minutes later I rang school and got them to get M. The cover organiser appeared at his door and told him to come home. During this time I threw up and started to panic a bit.


When M got home I told him we were going to hospital and that the contractions were about 3 minutes apart. He started to put stuff in the car and I phoned the hospital but it was engaged the first five times I tried. Eventually I got through and the midwife said to come down but that they might send me back home again.
We got in the car and I had my first contraction about a mile away from the house. M started the next track on the Coldplay CD with each contraction so that we could time them. They were less than three minutes. We were driving down the bypass about 3 miles from home when M said “it’s ok, we’re nearly there”. I about lynched him because we still had 20 minutes of car journey left. I continued to contract as we drove through school traffic and lots of passers-by, where I was concerned that people could see me during contractions.


I started to get really uncomfortable. Contracting in the car was awful and I was really noisy. The contractions were about two and a half minutes apart. We arrived at the hospital and I timed it so that we left the car just after a contraction but I still had another on the way in outside the labour ward and was quite embarrassed as it was obvious that I was contracting and there were loads of people about (including pregnant smokers which I still managed to comment on, despite the pain!). We got to the maternity assessment unit and they weren’t expecting me it seemed. She asked how far apart my contractions were and I said that they were about two and a half minutes to which she said “oh right!”. We went to the waiting room and there was a couple in there and they looked nervous – she didn’t have a bump so I presumed that there was a problem as this is where we came when I thought I was bleeding. I had a contraction in the waiting room and then the midwife called me to talk to her. In the corridor I had another contraction and had to stand still on my own til it passed, with the midwives talking to me the whole time.


They then informed us that there wasn’t an available room for an examination so they were sending us to delivery to be examined. Upon arrival we were the only ones there and we were put into a really small room (we later think that this is because they thought that they’d send me home). The midwife introduced herself as Karen and she had a student, Rachel, with her. I was examined at 4:30 and I was found to be 5-6cm dilated which surprised me and made me really happy! I couldn’t believe I’d got to that stage on my own and wasn’t going to be sent home. Rachel was supposed to examine me after Karen but Karen said not to so I said “Rachel, aren’t you going to try?”. Karen replied with “Are you sure? You found it uncomfortable being examined!” So I said how Rachel had to learn some time and that we were teachers and understood the importance of learning! They were really surprised that I was so willing! Rachel didn’t really go as far as Karen so didn’t hurt me much at all. It was at this point when M said “well we’re not going to have that game of travel scrabble are we?” (We’d packed it in case I was induced or something and we got bored!). I burst out laughing and didn’t stop for ages, which they all found hilarious – that gas and air was good stuff!


When they’d gone I told M that I wanted Rachel to do the examination because that’s what my mum was like. She always insisted on letting students have a go at everything as they had to learn (she had loads of students with our birth because it was a multiple birth). I shed a bit of a tear and M stroked my hair. I sent him out to the car to fetch the bags now we knew we were staying!


I put on my nighty and sat on the birthing ball, bouncing away. I must have sat on the ball for a good couple of hours, puffing away on the gas and air and talking to the midwives. I remember telling Rachel that it felt like someone was “shoving something up my arse”...! Apart from that though I didn’t swear at all (except when they weren’t there!). I bounced on the ball and M rubbed my back with lavender oil and Karen showed him a technique to help. We stayed like that for ages. One of the midwives on shift was a parent of a child in M's form and she came to say hello which was nice as she ended up looking after me the following day. During this time the midwives checked his heartbeat very regularly, scaring me somewhat with the student not being able to find it quickly and also with the Doppler being crap, to the extent that they got a new one. They were really reassuring the whole time and were fully aware of my anxieties with the birth and of something happening to the baby.


At 7pm it was shift change and we were introduced to a new midwife called Laura who was blond, not that I actually looked at her for about two hours! I started to struggle with the pain and was asking for Meptid injection. She said that she was going to examine me at 8:30pm and see how far I was before seeing if I could have the drug. She talked me into having a hot bath and that was the best thing ever! The bath had lavender oil in and it really relaxed me. I was completely naked and wasn’t bothered. M did offer to get my bikini top but I really couldn’t have cared less. I had the gas in the bath and managed to stay there until I was examined at 8:30pm.


When I was examined I was 7cm and I was very disappointed and began asking for the drug again because I said I couldn’t cope with this pain if it was going to be that slow progression-wise. Laura told me to get back in the bath and she’d talk to her supervisor about progression and when to examine me again. She came back and said that she was going to examine me again in two hours despite her supervisor advising her to wait until three hours. The bath wasn’t as effective now but I think that’s because the contractions were much more intense. Whilst in the bath I felt like I was doing a big poo and kept grabbing at my nether regions as if to hold it all in. This happened a few times and I made a bit of a guttural noise. I said again that it was too intense and I needed some help (for what it’s worth I didn’t actually want to have drugs, I just couldn’t see a way through the pain for endless more hours. And after each contraction I was glad I didn’t have drugs). I also felt a really small gush and told the midwife that I wasn’t sure if I’d just weed in the bath. She decided to get me out to examine me and then she could assess and weigh me if I still wanted the meptid. It was around now that I noticed that she was pregnant herself (25 weeks!). I hadn’t even really looked at her before now.


I got on the bed and was examined – this was about 9:40pm I think (though it could have been much earlier or later!). She said that I was 9cm and had just a lip of cervix left! I was in shock quite a lot. She also said that she thought my waters would go with my next contraction. Sure enough they did, all over the bed and the midwife (in her hair she said!). I was shocked at how much there was and how warm it was (why I’d expected it to be cold I had no idea!). I started to feel like my body was pushing even more and I didn’t like it at all. I rolled on to my side and the midwife said I needed to get off the bed so that they could change the sheets as I’d get really cold if I stayed there wet for hours. I complained and said I couldn’t move and Matthew told me forcefully to get off so I did slowly. As I stood up I turned and rested on the bed and had another couple of contractions which were so intense and my body was pushing and I tried to resist until they told me not to. I just wasn’t sure I was allowed to push since I was only 9cm dilated. The midwife told me to go with it and let my body push. I did and she said that she’d soon be able to see the baby’s head. I asked if it was crowning and apparently she and M exchanged glances as if to say “not yet pet, you’ve got a long way to go!”. I fell to my knees and the midwife said I needed to lift up so she could put a pillow there. She told me I’d have to open my legs is I was going to give birth at which point I told her I couldn’t and she told me I had to. M grabbed and moved my legs apart and it did feel better. More water gushed out with each contraction and I was making such a mess. I remember saying to M how it felt bizarre, that I couldn’t believe it was me in labour and that it was like an out of body experience. I felt the need to push and so I did and this sound escaped me, like nothing I’d heard before: a guttural groaning sound that was cave-woman style. I was surprised that it was coming from me. The midwife and M told me to stop making it as it would make pushing more efficient so I did and I noticed the difference straight away and really went for it. I felt his head descend and commented how it was the weirdest feeling ever. The next contraction came and I pushed again and felt the burning and knew I was quite close. I wasn’t prepared for just how close it was. The midwife asked M to press the buzzer for the second midwife to come and assist. Then he slipped out, all in one go, head then body. The midwife caught him and he cried instantly just as the second midwife arrived. I heard the cry and thought “eh? There’s a baby crying. Oh my god my baby’s crying”. I was in shock that he was there! She passed the baby through my legs (or rather I actually grabbed him according to M!) and she told me that the cord was short so to be careful. I sat on my legs and held the baby to my tummy crying “oh my god, I’ve done it, oh!”. M cried (not that I could see as I had lost my glasses somewhere along the way). After a little while I realised that we didn’t know if the baby was a boy or a girl. All along I’d wanted M to tell me but for some reason I took over and just looked. I figured that if I showed him I’d still see first because the cord was short and he was still attached and facing me. I shouted “it’s a boy!”. I was genuinely shocked; I really thought he’d be a girl! M cut the cord once it stopped pulsating and we got on the bed. They asked if I wanted the injection for the placenta now and I said yes. They normally do it earlier but they knew that I was very anxious throughout. Surprisingly I flinched at the injection going in and felt like a right wally after all the pain I’d just gone through. The placenta came and it coming out was actually rather pleasurable or satisfying (?!). I asked to see it and she showed me it all and explained which bit was which.


I cuddled up to my boy and could not believe that he’d just come out of me. Incredible! He looked so much like Matthew it was unreal; exactly like the pictures I'd been looking at just that morning.


After about an hour they came to take me to stitching. It was nice because I actually got to look at the midwife in the face and we had a nice chat between my legs. I had a second degree tear, a labial tear and also lots of labial grazes. Being stitched wasn’t that bad really. The worst bit was the hips that locked as we tried to get them out of the stirrups. We’d left Stanley with M and he hadn’t cried the whole time we were away, which was about fifty minutes. We then made our phone calls and sent our text messages and I had a bath.


After some tea and toast (which was the nicest thing ever) we tried to get some sleep which I found impossible. I just kept staring at my little boy in his bassinet. He slept constantly that night and pretty much all day the next day. M slept really well and didn’t even notice that the midwife and I had a chat and put the light on and 4am!


The next day dad came to visit with his girlfriend at 12:00pm ish and it was lovely seeing him with Stanley. We came home at about 2:00pm and just stared at our boy in his car seat. The following few days we just stared and cried at how perfect and amazing he is. We have been so emotional and can’t believe how lucky we are, that we made him (with help!) and that he is actually ours to keep forever. I am so proud of how I grew him, of how I gave birth to him. It feels awesome and I love him so much.

Welcome to the world Stanley Peter!

38 weeks and a day

Meaning that there are only 13 days until my due date, the date that has been etched on my mind for nine months now.

Last week's midwife appointment was exciting in that she told me that the baby is 3/5 engaged. I thought he/she must be because my heartburn was a lot less than it had been. I next see her on Tuesday when I'll be 38+6, then after that I'll be on to weekly appointments! this can only mean that things are scarily close!

How do I feel? Impatient, a bit scared, very excited.  How's M feeling? Pretty much the same! Every time I wince at a pain (i.e. a baby headbutting cervix pain or hip pain) he looks all concerned and does a few deep breaths!

Full term bump:

38 weeks:

What am I worried about? Visitors, feeling overwhelmed by it all, not knowing when or how it's all going to happen.  But these worries are mild; normal mum-to-be anxieties.  I actually feel like I am normal.  In fact, I had my last CBT last week and it was great! I just walked out and was happy.  My earlier pregnancy worries have vanished, and while my personality dictates that I will always have a bit of anxiety, the excessive worries I had have gone.  In fact, I'd forgotten the extent of them until I looked at the stuff that he'd noted down early on at the first appointments (November I think).  He even showed a graph of how I'd been rating things every time - a nice downward stepping pattern to virtually negligible anxiety at the last time.  I had forgotten how worried I was that ICSI meant he/she may have abnormalities.  I had forgotten how I couldn't switch off my brain and followed and chased thoughts about delivering early and having the baby not survive and how I would back up these chased thoughts with images in my head.  So my worries now about too many visitors, although not insignificant, are mind-numbingly boring worries in comparison.  And, above all, completely NORMAL.  I like the word normal.

I've been thinking about what kind of mum I'll make.   But then I'm reminded that I had the best teacher for motherhood, the best teachers for parenthood.  They taught me what being a parent should be like and, while I'll never claim to be perfect just as they didn't, I have had the best guidance to what being a parent is about; the best experiences to back it up.  I know that a lot of people can't say that.

I know mum would be so sad that she isn't here now; it saddens me too.  But it serves as a comfort to me (and would be to her if I could tell her) that she has taught me and shown me everything that I need to know already.  I'll always have questions for her, who wouldn't?  But, I know that I can hear her voice if I think hard enough.  I don't actually have to think that hard. I can think of how she would advise me, what she would say and I don't think I would be far wrong if she could tell me these things herself.  Her grandchild will get to know her through me (and his/her auntie) through all the funny stories we will share and because of the way we were parented; a way that was perfect for us, for our family.

This week I have been busy.  On Monday I was disappointed that I couldn't initiate my nesting instinct.  I knew I wanted to deep-clean the kitchen.  I had hope that I would suddenly be all "ooooo cleaning I can't wait!" when it clicked to Monday. It didn't happen.  Still, I managed to pluck up enough enthusiasm to do it and I ended up spending 2-3 hours cleaning.  I decided to go into town afterwards but as I was ambling along the high street I suddenly hit this wall of pain and tiredness.  I managed to hobble to the bank and then did the supermarket shopping.  M wanted to meet me in town but I really couldn't face it and so he saw me at home, stuck to the sofa, having found a pot of pasta sauce on the drive which I must have dropped in my haste to get the shopping inside so I could crash.

When he came in he gently told me off, as did my dad when I spoke to him later.  "You're supposed to be resting and taking it easy!".  I know, I know.  But sitting doing not a lot has never been me and, as I said to both of them, I felt fine at the time.  I never thought that I would pay for it later. But it has made me realise that, despite what they tell you about getting on all fours and scrubbing skirting boards being good for labour and baby's position, I really do have to pace myself.  I can't do as much now.  Having never been restricted movement-wise in my life before it's quite difficult to remember that I can't do certain things.  So, having had plans for Tuesday (seeing my bump buddy friend who's due on Saturday) and Wednesday (meeting the grandparents and cousin for lunch and shopping) I decided that today would be a lazy day.  It's really hard being lazy for me. I actually have felt guilty about it, spotting things to do! I have to admit I did put washing on, did put my clean clothes away, and did the last of the baby clothes ironing (for the last time I promise!).  We do have plans for tonight though!

Tonight is our tour of the hospital maternity suite.  On the 10th of March last year we had our IVF information session at the same hospital. So 364 days later ('cos it's been a leap year) we are having another information session but from the opposite perspective.  Unbelievable. Amazing! How things's can change in a year.

I've been thinking about this a lot - how things can change I mean. My friend who I saw on Tuesday gave me a book written by one of her best friends who would've been our age who died aged 22 of cancer.  Reading it I was so inspired by her and her positivity and I feel like I really got to know her.  She wrote about how you can measure a year and quoted the song from the musical Rent, Seasons of Love:

Five hundrend twenty five thousand 
six hundred minutes
Five hundrend twenty five thousand 
moments so dear
Five hundrend twenty five thousand 
six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year

In daylight, in sunsets, in midnights, 
in cups of coffee, In inches, in miles
in laughter in strife,

In Five hundrend twenty five thousand 
six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year in the life?

Since then I have had this song as a kind-of ear-worm, constantly bobbing up from time to time. It reminds me of the last year, of what we have achieved.  How would I measure the last year?

Some of the ways I have measured the last year of my life have included by counting injections, pills, medicines, days in hospital, days to go, days to wait, symptoms.  For what? What purpose does my counting have after all? To outline just what a rough time I had?  I'm not going to deny that it was rough, it was horrible, and it was and is still the biggest and scariest thing that I have ever had to endure.  But, that's it. It's almost over now (or just beginning!) and I have (or nearly have) all that I have ever dreamed of.

I went through 'all' of that.  A few short months.   Compared to the person who put that song into my head it is nothing. Nothing at all.  It made me think of mum, of course. Of what she endured.  How she never moaned even on her darkest of days.  She was inspirational, too.

I'm no inspiration.  I'm not special.  I'm just a normal girl who (selfishly?) wanted a baby and who has (almost) got one.  These people, who endure illness forever, for the rest of their days, who suffer indescribably, do they moan?  I've found that they are (generally speaking) happy people, people who are grateful for all they have, all they have done and seen, and all they are.  They don't pity themselves.

I should measure my year in those moments where you just 'be' and savour things.  Measure it in smiles, in laughs, in cuddles, even in copious amounts of cat-fluff that appear from nowhere after I've just swept the floor.  Measure it in the kicks I feel in my tummy, even measure it in the few stretch marks that have started to appear.  I don't mind these stretchmarks.  They're nothing.  They're not scars of pain or cancer, they're the marks of mummy-hood; marks for which I am grateful as I got what I wanted, what I needed, when so many people's scars are true scars. I could measure my year in the friendships I've nurtured and grown, in the children whom I've taught, who've said "I get it, Miss!", not in the number of detentions I have given out or the reports I've completed.  I should measure it in the number of thank you and good luck cards I have received, the number of presents, both for me and the baby - symbols of how lucky and loved we are.

I know that what I have been through isn't insignificant.  It certainly hasn't been from our perspective and I think it would bother me if I or others thought it was.  Infertility does leave scars too.  Yet, now those scars may start to heal and we are coming out of the other side, the lucky ones. The incredibly lucky ones. The ones for whom it worked, who get to take home a baby at the end.  Our nightmare is over.

I am the happiest I've ever been since those naive days of childhood when my sister and I used to play mummies with our black baby-dolls given by grandma, with their short afro hair and knitted outfits, making them cots from cardboard boxes and copious amounts of sellotape.  I am happy, albeit tainted with the loss of my mum, but still happy because she would be happy. She would want us to be happy more than she would want anything else.

So, now, every time I see another pile of cat fluff, I will be grateful. Grateful that it's there at all, that I am here, now, only having to worry about cat fluff.  Not worrying that I'll never be a mummy or that I'll even live another year. I feel inspired to seize every moment, just as these inspirational people have done. How would you measure your year?
.

Happy Maternity Leave!

I can't believe I'm actually on Maternity Leave.  This is such an odd feeling! I still keep having moments of wondering why I'm at home (well, today has only been the second day!) and then remembering. Quite often I do actually forget that I'm pregnant. And then some nudge in the ribs (or worse, cervix!) reminds me of the miracle in my tummy!

I had the date of my maternity leave etched in my mind all through the school year.  Hoping I'd get to that point, not actually imaging that I ever would. It's very odd! And now it's here, it's been and gone! I've said goodbye to my form class and have started my "year off".  I am going to take the full year that I am entitled to. We will probably be skint by the end (we haven't actually worked out what we'll do...!) but we know we will manage and we know that this is what's best for our family, especially given that there is a high probability that I won't have the luxury, or rather opportunity, to do this again.

I am trying to relish every second so far. I haven't got dressed yet, nor was I dressed at this time yesterday. But I have still had some accomplishments! Yesterday I sorted out a lot of the baby's things and tidied the lounge and filled the cupboards with food.  Today I have done more sedentary activities so far such as... um, watching a film(!) but I have also changed three direct debits that I have been meaning to do since we were married two years ago and I have also changed my name on several household bills/insurances etc. These are things that I have put off for such a long time that even though it required little effort, I feel like I've accomplished something today! I have my 36 week midwife appointment this afternoon.  I am 37 weeks (full term!) tomorrow! I am hoping that the midwife will tell me that the baby has started to engage.  I haven't noticed anything like waddling (no more than usual!) but I have been having less heartburn so who knows!

So, what have we been up to in the last couple of weeks?

Half Term


In half term we did the last of our pre-baby visits.  We went to see M's brother down in Wales and had a lovely time! We also saw his nanna and auntie, who we haven't seen for over a year.  It was such a lovely weekend.  I also spent time with friends and met the newborn namesake of M, which was lovely!

Work


 I left! But you knew that! Work was busy during my last couple of weeks.  It included half term but I did a lot of work during the holidays and then subsequently in my last week after the holidays to ensure that everything would get done. By Wednesday I knew I'd done everything pretty much so on Friday I was actually twiddling my thumbs waiting for the bell to go at 3pm!  I spent over 12 hours on Thursday (my day off) 'working'.  I say working but it wasn't really, despite tiring me out completely and being emotionally exhausting.  I made and wrote cards for each of the 23 students in my form group - each one different with different messages.  I also made a video of their old photos that was over 11 minutes long. I  cried doing it! I was so emotional.  I have seen these students almost every day for five years and they are my first ever form group and so they are extra special in my eyes.  I also got them some nibbles for our picnic and made them a cake.  On Friday we had our picnic and watched the video - a few of the girls wiped their eyes.  They gave me some wonderful presents - baby clothes and a bracelet and wrote some lovely cards and messages.  I definitely had to hold back the tears!

On leaving school just after 3pm the sun was shining and it was so warm.  I had the biggest grin on my face as I silently left the school alone, walking with my coat slung over my arm and a bag of gifts.  It was a lovely way to end the week and start my maternity leave.

Babymoon (attempt 2):

Well, after our fiasco with babymoon attempt no. 1, which had ended up to be not what we had hoped or expected, M had informed me that this weekend we'd be having a "big weekend". In early January he had come along into the living room with the calendar and proudly stuck on the "big weekend" sticker but had not given me any more information than that! Over the weeks I tried to coax out some information but failed.  He was very good at keeping things close to his chest.  In the lead up I managed to glean that it was somewhere within two hours drive and somewhere south as he said "driving down".

On the morning M became upset as the hotel he had booked months ago decided to cancel on him because they'd double booked.  In the end he said that it had worked out better for us, but I still had no idea what was happening!

We set off after a little lunch and headed for the A19 south bound.  On the way M deliberately drove round a few roundabouts purely to confuse me.  He asked me where I thought we were going and I had thought of Leeds, Harrogate or York, secretly hoping it was York as I love the place! We turned off the A19 into direction of York and I was very happy! M then explained a little about the original hotel. It was a four-poster room in train carriage in a quirky hotel about 10 minutes drive from York.  However, we were now staying in a more expensive hotel, on the top floor with views of the Minster and only a 10 minute walk to the city centre, which definitely worked out better.

In the afternoon we went shopping and picked up a few bits.  We walked around the shambles and ate crepes from a stall.  We went and spent a bit of time in the Railway Museum, one of M's favourite places! After our time out we headed back to our hotel and I had a little snooze before getting ready to go out for some dinner.  We decided to try a quiet Tandoori Restaurant which was lovely! Afterwards we walked around the city, holding hands and talking excitedly about the baby.  I was always trying to get information about the following day but I did not manage to get much information, other than the fact he was sending someone text messages, which I thought was really odd.  Who texts when they make arrangements for something? He also said that he didn't choose York, York chose him, that there was an event on in York just for this weekend.  I was even more confused! Especially with the messages that were flying back and forth to M's phone.

On Sunday we got up and had a leisurely cooked breakfast.  I was aching all over from the walking the day before and the four flights of steep stairs up to our hotel room (which was actually a suite with a kitchen!).  We headed out of the city by car and I was nervous for what was ahead.  M was joking about bungee jumping and things.  So we drive out of the city and M pulls up into the park and ride! I was even more confused as we headed back into the city!

We ambled around for a while and popped into a few shops.  M told me that we had about an hour. About half an hour later his phone rings in a shop and he answers it and speaks on the phone.  I tried to move away but I did hear him say "What do you mean it's been put back? But I booked it for 1pm! So 3pm? Right. Ok, that'll have to do."  Then he hung up and got a bit huffy and looked anxious.  I became a bit more nervous and was a bit inwardly fed up that I would have to suffer my nerves about whatever it was to be for two more hours! I was also aching like mad by now. I was quite thirsty so M suggested we got a drink.  I opted for a pint of tea from Greggs and we sat on a bench.  About two minutes later M suggests we "stretch my legs" and get going.  I happily obliged, letting him take the lead but I was secretly thinking "my legs ARE bloody well stretched.  I'm aching all over!".  A few minutes later we were standing outside a shop that we had been in the previous day. M starting acting weird, asking me if I wanted to go into the shop again and insisting that he held my still-full cup of tea.  Then he asked me to hold the door to the bar next door for him.  I sensed that this was "it" but was still confused! I walked along the dark corridor and into a restaurant/bar and looked around. There was nothing out of the ordinary, no event like he'd said but I was sure that this is where something would be happening.  M asked for the booking by name at the bar and the lady behind the bar said "The baby shower?".  M rolled his eyes and I just looked and thought "huh? baby shower?".  We were pointed towards the rear of the restaurant and then I saw a banner with "baby shower" written on.  I was still really confused - how could there be a baby shower for me here in York?

Then I walked around the corner and saw someone I thought I recognised. Yes, it was definitely her! But, hang on! She lives in Edinburgh!?!  It was then, as my eyes darted around the room that I realised that it was full with girls from BaBs, my wonderful, supportive online refuge, or should I say "haven". First words out of my mouth? "OH my God", which I think I repeated for ages, accompanied by many tears, hands over my mouth! J came over and gave me a hug and shortly after I did the rounds hugging each person in turn. Including children, there were over thirty people there. People had travelled miles, stayed in York overnight, just to do this for me. I was "overwhelmed" (as became my 'word of the day'!).  There was food, presents, decorations... it was amazing.

These wonderful, wonderful ladies had spent months organising it via facebook since about November, as I later found out in reading all the secret group posts on there! I had had no idea. Not even when I posted on BaBs that "M was up to something" for this weekend.  They were all innocently suggesting ideas for what he had planned when really it was them planning something and liaising with him to get me there! Reading through all that now is so funny, they really had me going and I have discovered that they are very good at subterfuge! All of the things over the past 24 hours then fell into place... York choosing M, the comments on the thread about M being up to something, the text messaging when in York.  The phone call didn't add up but M admitted that that was all fake, he'd just set him alarm on his phone to ring like his ringtone, just to confuse me and thicken the plot!

I just can't thank them all enough. To spend months organising something so wondeful, to getting so many people on board, to all the lovely wonderful gifts and messages, not only from people who were there but lots and lots of others who couldn't make it, is such an amazing thing. It is the epitome of what the pink place is about.  People who do wonderful, unbelievable things for others all of the time. Not only supporting them through their darkest times but also celebrating their most wonderful times too, for understanding when few do.It's hard to explain to a non-Babser just what it's like.  But these girls, although they may have started out as online friends, years later they are so much more.  They are Real Life friends too and I feel very honoured to be a part in such an amazing group of people.

If any are reading I just want to say Thank You. Again. Because I really can't thank you enough.  The euphoria I felt on Sunday was just like I felt on my wedding day - blissfully happy, anxiety gone, lucky, special. It takes something really amazing to have that effect on you.  I bounced home, grinning from ear to ear, still in shock! M keeps saying how obvious it was to him just how much you all love me, how highly you think of me, and it has been such a boost to me (not to mention my ego, which I will certainly keep in check haha!).  I can honestly say I've never been so surprised in all my life, not even when M proposed (as, after five years, I kind of expected that!).

What a start to my maternity leave! The rest certainly has a lot to live up to but I am certain it will. I am now so impatient for this baby to arrive! I want to know who he/she is - is she a she? Is he a he? Every time there is a baby on TV or in the street, M and I both go gooey and he says things to my tummy like "you can come out now!".  It won't be long, I know. It could be any time, it could be up to five weeks yet (please no!).  Now things are ready I am desperate to meet this little person, the one who will fill the babygros, the socks and grandma's knitted cardigans, that will sleep (hopefully!!) in the moses basket that is set up in our room ready and waiting.

I know, through inside info from the girls!, that there will be tough times ahead but I am finally on my way to being a mummy. The end is in sight, an end I never dared to dream about.  I still suffer from bouts of anxiety about it all but I know that, at this late stage, that's normal. We're about to become parents - there's no going back, no get-out clause, the most important job that we could ever have. We are so looking forward to it.  Of course, it is filled with nervous anticipation, a bit of panic, but I do know that if I don't know what to do or I'm having a bad day then there are a host of people that will help us. I feel very, very lucky to have such a wonderful family and wonderful friends. I can't imagine doing all of this without any of them.

Not long now til we all get to meet the littlest person! 22 days til my due date... not long!

Here are some pictures:
35 week bump:

About to go out for the meal on the baby moon (36 weeks):

The surprise baby shower: