Well that was an awesome weekend. I felt like a human being. I talked to people, a variety of people. I talked, sometimes about things other than my health and pregnancy. I wore clothes. I blow dried my hair and put on jewellery and make up. I almost felt like I had a life. I even drove the car, once. There were three days of hub-in-boots that were even relatively free of football. I feel like my head has been washed clean of the past few months.
After quite a few conversations with other women who’d had natural births and c-sections, I’ve kind of stepped back and been able to go, hell yeah, I’m disappointed. Hell yeah, we’ve been ripped off, it’s been absolutely shite, we are both wounded, but what counts, what really counts, is we are still going. Birth is one thing, the big issue is baby. However he comes. And with an immaculate sense of timing, Gumby has joined in the conversation.
On Thursday night, after the nightmare doctor’s visit, after all of that hell on legs, in the middle of a deep deep calmbirth meditation, Gumby made his presence felt. Right at the moment when the tape said “imagine the day of your baby’s birth”, Gumby went OFF. Deep into a meditation on breath, I felt like I’d been slapped. What was that? Concentrate on your breath. I breathed, then slap! it went again. I yelled out to hub-in-boots. Bugger the meditation.
He put his hands on my belly. “Woah! what the HELL was that? Was that him?”
“Woah! Was That GUMBY? What are you? Freakin Sigourney Weaver in Alien? What the hell?” . We were both grinning like idiots.
Gumby likes the couch. After all, that’s where he’s probably spent the most time this pregnancy. He always kicks when I sit stretched out on the couch. And in bed. Not so much when I’m up and about, though that could be the anterior placenta. He’s going quietly nuts right now. It’s pretty cool. No butterfly in a jar anymore. This is a proper booting I’m getting now. He even aims for hub-in-boots’ hand sometimes.
So Friday, we had a long skype session with my cousin who is a financial planner, given our new financial situation with me out of work. It was long overdue, we’re both kind of hopeless with money. We like travel, restaurants and bands too much. The stupid thing is, I understand it all, I’m great at managing other people’s money, but my own I just seize up. It’s the emotional content of it I struggle with. And the session dealt with both the practical and the emotional. Perfect. Despite dreading the “home truths” I finished it feeling enabled and positive.
Then we went to the traditional Good Friday barbeque with a crew of friends we haven’t seen since the whole infertiltiy / IVF shebang began. And just at the time when we would have shared we were pregnant, the whole thing went pear shaped. So it was good to see them all and catch up, sit in the sun. I sat out all the fresh seafood and wine, snuck in a few garlic prawns freshly cooked on the barbie, and ate a Vegemite sandwich on the way there. It was funny being the sober one! People worry so much about you missing out, but really, it’s not so hard when you know you’re making a choice for a really important reason.
We stayed longer than we’d planned, and by the time we got home I was exhausted. I mean exhausted. I was asleep on the couch at 8, in bed by 9. Gumby was up and ready to party. Sorry Gumby.
Saturday my cousin was up from Melbourne, and she came over for lunch with my mum, brother in law, sister and niece. Hub-in-boots was at football dawn til dusk. We had a great day, a bit of a backyard sit, excellent weather. She brought two of the five kids with her on the day, and we had a really nice time. It felt so normal.
I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed tidying up the house in the morning. Just quietly working my way from one thing to the next, uninterrupted, getting things how I wanted them, no one fussing over me. I am not a housework person. But it is amazing how the quiet satisfaction of getting things done seems like such a great rewarding thing after bedrest. There’s still limitations. I don’t do floors or vaccuuming. I don’t lift, or empty bins or full laundry baskets . I watch the clock and plan a sit down every 45 minutes so I have no chance of getting overinvolved and doing too much. I ache a lot when I move, as I think my body is not used to bearing the pregnancy weight in an upright position. So the sit downs aren’t really optional.
Sunday was off to Mum’s for a roast lunch. I was awake early, a rough night’s sleep unfortunately. More stupid pregnant dreams. They are so involved, and go all night! apparently something to do with the hormones leaves you with more REM sleep. Fact. Very rude. That and dickhead neighbours coming home at 3am. It was one of those nights that I just couldn’t wait for dawn.
Mums on sunday was nice and mellow, as only family days can be. We hung out, had roast turkey (yum) and I even got some easter eggs which I am attempting not to eat, except in 20g doses after meals…. Gumby got some more presents too, some Dr Suess books, and an awesome basket of goodies from my niece.
Was hoping to share the Gumby kicking action but he was pretty quiet all day.
Again, out to it on the couch at home with Gumby kicking, at about 7:30pm. My cousin came back over at 9:30 with her oldest daughter and we had another good catch up once I’d wiped the drool off and hub-in-boots administered tea. So tired I felt like I’d been drugged. But it worked well as I wasn’t tired when they got over, got to have another few hour long girly natter whilst hub-in-boots went into the man cave and watched the Paris Roubaix cycle race on tele.
Monday was barbie number two, another lovely afternoon out with people we hadn’t seen since all of the pregnancy thing began. More presents for Gumby.
A lovely alfresco sit down lunch for 17 or so that looked just like a magazine spread, kids in an easter egg hunt, and finally convinced hub-in-boots he didn’t have to play nursemaid and could relax, talk to the rally boys, drink wine, and I drove home. Such a grown up! Driving home! I was so excited we had to have an unscheduled drop in on the way at unofficial Grandma 3’s house (my ex partner’s mum. I suspect she’s planning on being the worst of the doting grandma’s spoiling Gumby).
More leftover turkey. Can’t get enough. Again, asleep on the couch at 9pm. Full of sun, and good food, and good company.