As I write, I am 30 weeks pregnant. I honestly don’t know where the time has gone. Elective Caesarean pending, Kev informs me Baby #2 will join us in 65 days. 9 weeks. I swear it was only yesterday I took the pregnancy test that announced the pending arrival.
But we, but the world has been through so much since that positive test result. I have said repeatedly said that we’ve barely had time to catch our collective breath, to prepare. But happen it will. The baby kicking away against my tummy is coming to join us.
I have been so lucky in one sense, that the pains and trials I endured through my pregnancy with Squidge were so delayed this time around while our family went through so much.
Even lockdown has its advantages. With nowhere to go, following guidelines and making the personal decision to implement them until Baby’s birth, I have managed to rest more than I would if life had maintained its previous pace. I am incredibly fortunate that being furloughed in early April did not impact us negatively because Kev has carried on working from home and our bills have reduced.
But I am certainly feeling very, very pregnant now. Not being able to access my healthcare professionals has not been good for me. The savings pot I have for renovating our forever home doesn’t agree and I’m glad to make headway on the long list but I cannot tell you what I’d give for some physiotherapy and a massage right now.
I’m still often convinced my baby bump isn’t big. Until I stand up straight and up it lifts. I measured +1 week when I saw the midwife last week so we’re confident Baby’s growing big and strong, actually projected to weigh approx 9lbs if they stay on that 97th percentile. Mind you, so was Squidge and she came out a perfect 8lbs 2oz so we’ll see!
The midwife also complimented my strong tummy muscles, which I honestly didn’t imagine I’d have after a previous section, so I was oddly proud of this comment! But my God, they ache.
I find myself bending forward a lot to compensate for the weight so am entirely unsurprised that I ache all over; back, pelvis, bum, hips, shoulders. There’s such a toll being taken on it all and it’s not nice feeling so helpless about it amidst everything going on in the world.
At my 16 week midwife appointment, she referred me to physiotherapy because hydrotherapy helped last time. She warned me they were slow and to chase after 4 weeks. But I didn’t because lockdown happened and we’ve all seen how stressed our wonderful NHS has been in these times.
When I saw the (different) midwife last week, I repeated the above.
“Not lockdown,” she told me, entirely unsurprised, “just that slow.”
So communication hasn’t been great either. I’d had 3 separate appointments in 7 days that I was only told at the second one could have been done all in one go. The midwife offered to chase physiotherapy for me but it seemed pointless – another 13 week wait would come after Baby’s birth. Except now, I’m really struggling to move. My hips often feel stuck in the same position and like my legs cannot hold up the weight of my bump. This is familiar to me and I probably do need the hydrotherapy and the pelvic support belt to hold up my bump and offer some relief. Still, with 9 weeks to go and the current situation, I sincerely don’t expect either of these things to be forthcoming.
It feels lonely. I’m here, resting in bed ar lunchtime, Squidge by my side watching YouTube because getting up when she called at 7am, Kev already at work in his home office, was too much on so many parts of my tired body.
But she doesn’t complain. She tidied up after herself, brings me things I need to take care of us both.
In these strange times, I am luckier than ever to have her with me. I wonder if either of us are prepared for what the next 9 weeks will bring both the world and our little family.