So You're Pregnant, Mothering a Toddler, and Playing a Nun in December.

Baby Bechaz #2 or The Singing, Pregnant Nun

Before I begin, I apologise for not continuing my blog since last year. My bad. Life got in the way. Please love me, internet land. In my absence, around 6000 people have viewed my blog -uh. Wow! Yay! Hope you all liked it and sorry if it was simply the ramblings of a narcissistic pregnant lady!  Hope you have enjoyed the sarcasm and blatant brain-ramble.

Guess what!  Hubster and I recently found out we were having baby #2. Apart from the initial (good) shock (WTF were we even trying for more babies right now? Yay us and our fertile loins!) and the blatant fear (oh my, how shall I deal with TWO little screaming, sticky, Peppa-Pig loving, Playdoh-eating, whirlwinds? Will I ever sleep again?) we were overjoyed! 

#1 (Isla) will be around 2years 4 months when little PeeWee is born, and though we aren’t sure how she’ll take it (loves being centre of attention like the majority of toddlers) she will hopefully love the little munchkin and be able to understand a bit of what is going on! So far she has decided the baby is a boy… no wait… a girl… no wait… it’s a frog. Called PeeWee. Peppa Peewee. (Pretty sure she was saying ‘Poo-Wee’ but I choose to take it how it sounded phonetically). And the Peppa part comes from a particular TV show that her grandparents have got her hooked on.

So PeeWee (Gender Neutral) it is. 

And enough about my fabulous first child and on to our second Wonder-kid. 

Little Fetus PeeWee is around 12 weeks old, and we are just finishing Trimester 1 this week.

Despite only just growing arms and feet, our second child has already demonstrated their complete disregard for the way things are done around here, and the standard set by the daughter-who-must-be-obeyed.

Firstly; Morning Sickness. Why do they call it morning sickness when it sticks around 24/7. The wondrous feeling of wanting to hurl your guts up but not actually hurling… (Lucky me doesn’t spew easily). Sometimes I wished I would just throw up to get it out of my system, but of course that’s not how morning sickness works. According to my all-knowing friends (many of whom have had several children) the act of throwing up does not disperse the nausea. So instead, I nibble on a cracker or dry toast, and hope it subsides. Some days are better, and this week (around 2 days ago!) it subsided almost completely, so I did what any sane mother-to-be would do, and visited Sizzler. Got a light bout of food poisoning, learned my lesson, and retreated to my salt and vinegar rice crackers.

Anyway, this morning sickness was far beyond what I had experienced with Isla. Some days it was to the point of not being able to get off the couch and allowing my toddler to watch an hour and a half of morning cartoons (something I promised myself I would never do…). Due to this, many people think we’re having a boy this time around.

Secondly: Aversions & Cravings. Oh my lawdy. Do not bring meat (especially red!) near me (just like last time!!). Anyone who knows me, knows I usually take my steak moo-ing, bloody, and sometimes cold in the middle (perhaps a vampire/caveman in another life?), but whilst pregnant, heaven forbid anyone should wave a charcoaled sausage within two metres of me! Goodbye meat!

Farewell Dairy, Sorbet, Coffee and all my favourite foods! Yep, they make me bloat like a pufferfish. 

In other news, Salt and Vinegar (which normally I despise and find very… stinky!) suddenly makes me feel so much better. Also chickpeas. And refried beans. And BABY CORN! OH holy crap how did I not know about the joys of tinned baby-corn before this? Drain them and eat them by the tin! To a lesser extent, water-chestnuts. Fortunately I have found a great recipe for a chickpea, babycorn and water-chestnut stir fry which I plan on trying soon.

Thirdly: I got fat earlier. Granted, was a few KGs heavier after Isla (yeah, probably not going to get into all the pre-maternity clothes I saved from 2012 after all…) but my lower tummy has popped out in the last week. Probably bloating (as I said, I did visit Sizzler and I now eat a lot of babycorn/chickpeas), but I treated myself to a new pair of maternity jeans all the same. The ones with the 30cm long beige elastic waist that reaches to my bra. Yeah, Justin can’t keep his hands off me. Fortunately, I can tuck that part in for a few more weeks and pretend to be a normal, hip and happening 28 year old.

A couple of things that are different to last time: 

1.       I have a toddler so don’t have as much time to feel pampered and excited and take tummy pictures. Though I did snap a pretty fabulous one with a  lime (baby’s size this week) while she was hoe-ing in to some avocado.

2.       I am working part time at the high school whilst juggling the toddler and a home singing studio 3 afternoons a week. The tiredness just doesn’t cut it.

3.       I am playing Maria in The Sound of Music right as I hit approx 19/20 weeks pregnant. Yeah, I didn’t plan on getting pregnant when I auditioned. Fortunately I am making all my costumes and have given myself extra girth in the stomach region. And boob region. We all know how that goes. So, Biloela, be prepared to view the Pregnant, Singing Nun in early December! (Theatre-people, you get this, right? The show must go on!)

4.       I pretty much know what I want, what I don’t want, and what I don’t want to happen that has happened in my last birth/pregnancy! So as fabulous as Doctors & Midwives are, unless there’s something wrong, don’t bother me or tell me to do something different (ie: Labour in bed or that I should get induced, or that I am breastfeeding wrong!) because it ain’t gonna happen and you are just going to anger the beast. In saying that I really respect you and think you’re all fabulous… but please just don’t rush me this time! 

5.       I already have a lot of baby clothes/toys/etc as hand me downs so I don’t have to shop as much. (Huge down point.) On the up side, Isla is moving to a new room so I can re-decorate the nursery and her new room! Woo!!

6.       I am a lot more blasé about the little things, and a lot less worried. Which makes for a happier Bechaz household. Or maybe I just don’t have the alone time to worry as much ;) 

All in all! First twelve weeks have gone quite well! Here’s to hoping the next 28 go well and my toddler stops kicking me in the stomach all the time (We think she is trying to remain an only child, as the other day I said ‘Say hi to the baby!’ and pointed at my tummy, and she said ‘Kick it! Kick it!’ and proceeded to do just that. Apologies to second child in advance.)

Welcome to the family PeeWee!

Love xxx

The Life-Changing Question: Ballet or Football?

The Life-Changing Question: Ballet or Football?

Week of Pregnancy: 19
Fruit to Fetus Comparison: Mango or larger! We’re running out of fruuuuit!
Cravings: Kinda over them and trying not to eat crappy food. Failing on some days as I am too tired to cook something decent. Or lazy.
Aversions: Pork and pork products (weird, I haven’t really had much pork since becoming pregnant – and the taste has COMPLETELY changed!! It used to be my favourite roast meat!)
Husbands’ excitement metre: Trying to keep it in, but smug in his ability to predict our child’s sex.
Mini-Muffin Kick-Counter: Up to around about 10/20 felt flutters a day! Have decided it feels like your hands cupping a flailing goldfish, and popcorn – rolled into one.

In regards to the title... I’m hoping both for either gender, to be honest! Let’s not live up to those sexist stereotypes!

So, this week was the week! THE ULTRASOUND WEEK! Not only would we find out if our baby was healthy, but also what ‘favour’ of baby we were having! (These were exact words of one of my students in grade 12 – I jokingly responded ‘hopefully not chocolate, or I’m in trouble...  my husband is vanilla.”)

 Boy or Girl?! Did it really matter that much – not really! We were super excited to find out either way so I could so some serious shopping and start making gender-specific clothing for the first few months of our child’s life. You know, for before the stage where they get to a discernible sex and everyone says “what a cute little... boy? Girl? Monkey?” That could be awkward, I wish to avoid that if possible. If our child wants to dress like the opposite sex when they’re older, that’s up to them, but for now, I’m going to dress them in as much pink/blue as necessary.

So, day of the scan. 

Me = freaking out trying to find morphology scan referral, doctors notes, etc from our last visit. Cried a little when students were quite mean to me. Had a mini-break down. Freaked out that we would be late. Worried we wouldn’t find the hospital. Stressed about a multitude of things that could be wrong with mini-muffin. Excited and scared that we would/wouldn’t find out the gender. Excited for shopping.

Justin = played video games for a while. Chilled out a bit. Tells me not to freak out. Baby will be fine, and he believes there is no doubt it will be a girl. Promises me Sizzler for dinner after the scan to cheer me up.

Ah, Justin. He knows the promise of food will make me feel better. Sometimes I wonder how I'm not two-hundred kilos.

Skip forward to a two hour tedious drive in which every bump seemed like a roller coaster, as I am attempting to drink a litre and a half of water in the space of an hour and a half. Hard to do, surprisingly, especially while in the car and going up the ‘range’ of Mount Morgan.

When we reach the hospital, we park at the complete wrong end, and are currently running 5 minutes late. We race through the hospital and find CQMI (imaging/ultrasound/x-ray) and, slightly exhausted, are told by a nice lady to wait for our turn and to fill out some forms. We wait in the waiting room for what seems like forever (really only 20 minutes) before another nice young lady invites us through.

I swear, 90% of all ultrasound technicians are tall, blonde and have model-legs, which makes me feel like a heifer with a fat tummy and a butt the size of Tasmania. I forgive her because she has warm ultrasound gel, rather than the freezing stuff that most ultrasound facilities have.

After a moment of holding our breath, the wait is worth it! After a few seconds we see...

 Mini-Muffin! 

The baby is a lot more squished this time around, as I’m holding a litre of water right next to its house, and it’s grown a lot! I mean, A LOT! Legs are proportionate, body has caught up (mostly) to the size of the ginormous head, little arms are waving madly!

We are patient as we let the technician do her work – measuring the head, brain, spine, liver, kidneys, stomach, and anything else she can find! She tells us that Mini-Muffin is indeed healthy, and perfectly average in every way, shape and form! Here's a 3D image of Mini-Muffin with hands in front of face:

Current measurements

Approx weight – 280gms
Approx height – 20cms (including legs)
Heart beat – 137 beats per minute 

Right Hand with the correct amount of fingers!! --> 

All normal, all functioning, all fabulous! Our little Mini-Muffin is perfect!!

And then our patience pays off...

Ultrasound Technician: “Are you ready to know the gender?”
Me: “OMIGODYES!!!” (Almost wee with excitement and the fact that I’m still holding on to 1.5 litres of water)

She moves so that we get a good view of our baby’s privates...

 

“It’s a girl!”

Me: *SQUEEEEALLLLLL!*

She then proceeds to point out all the reasons why Mini-Muffin is a girl – but I am too ecstatic and over the moon and don’t hear a lot of it because of the current visions of tutus and pink. And soccer and boxing, if she so wishes. 

Justin smirks smugly. Yes, he was right all along. He has not once deviated from his belief that Mini-Muffin was a girl – and I have to admit it! I utter the dreaded words... “You were right.” And I get the notion that I will never live that down and it may be brought out as ammo in arguments for the rest of our lives.

It’s so strange how gender gives you a better idea of what your baby could be like. Immediately, I feel so much more bonded to my daughter growing inside my tummy simply because I know a bit more about her – the simple fact that she has ovaries instead of testes. Boy or Girl, I think I would have felt this way. Suddenly I feel like I know my child, not their favourite colour, whether they like broccoli, what their hopes and dreams are for the future, but that she is healthy, and she is a girl. Two things, really! I am then allowed to empty my bladder, which is about the best feeling in the world. 

The small fact that our baby is a girl almost allows me to ignore the next piece of news;

The placenta is awfully low, and very close to the cervix. Not great news, in the long run, if it chooses not to ‘move’. Basically, if the placenta covers/is too close to the cervix, that makes it hard to give birth naturally. All my thoughts and dreams of a natural, no-drugs water birth go flying out the window as I’m told I may have to get a C-Section, but not to panic, as there are still many weeks for it to move, and we will check it out at the next ultrasound.

I take the news surprisingly well for someone who’s never had to be cut open before. I still have my appendix and tonsils, and all I’m missing are my adenoids (which, really, isn’t much of a surgery). So I grin and bear it.

 If (I say that very strongly!! IF) a C-Section is the best thing for Mini-Muffin and me, well, that’s what we will do. I’ve heard it’s the ‘easiest’ birth, but hardest recovery. But, of course, who wants to be cut open. Really? 

If, on the other hand, the placenta decides to move, Justin and I may have some more arguments about me wanting to be a screaming ball of mess when our child enters the world.  (He’s all for drugs, I’m sort of ‘meh’ about the whole anaesthesia idea and would rather experience the whole thing... but still reserve my right to have an epidural!). Whichever is the safest and best choice (which we will weigh up when the time comes) we will do. No point in arguing with the doctors who know what they’re doing!

So, finally, we go to celebrate at Big W, and I buy five pink/purple sets of clothes for newborns to baby size 0. (Including the most adorable frilly dress and a pair of purple stretchy jean shorts) while Justin rolls his eyes. THEN off to the real celebrations at SIZZLER! We eat, we chat, we laugh, and then we drive (with very full bellies) home! I grin the majority of the way home, thinking of the wonderful, special, active, and amazing little girl I am growing my tummy, and how we will be parents in a matter of 19 – 21 weeks.

It truly is life-changing... and scares the pants off me...

Love

Rhonie

Dear Mini-Muffin - Week 17

Our Dear Mini-Muffin,

You are Seventeen Weeks and 3 days old today!  

You have grown almost to the size of a small Sweet Potato or a Turnip, according to the blogs your Mummy has been reading.  

You Weigh around 100 grams, and are around six inches long from head to bottom!

We haven’t felt you move yet for definite, but there have been a few flutters in your Mummy’s tummy.  

We saw you jumping up and down like a jumping bean on the sonogram a few weeks ago!  

Mummy is getting bigger and bigger each day. 

 Daddy thinks you might be a girl, while Mummy thinks you might be a boy! 

Our favourite names for you are Max, Sebastian, Tristan, Anastasia, Isla and Eve. 

We had a little scare the other day when Mummy got a sore tummy, but she rested a lot and now it seems everything is dandy! 

 Mummy sings to you and hopes you can hear her. She sings very loudly, so that is quite probable. 

Daddy is at the snow falling off his snowboard a lot and having lots of fun, but rings up to check on you and Mummy each day. 

This is what he might look like snowboarding:

Or it might be this... We will have to see how many bruises he has when he comes home...

We love you very, very much already and can’t wait to see how you’ve grown in our next Sonogram!

Lots of love, 

Mummy and Daddy

The Story of Rhona and the Burmese GP, Sonograms and Blood Tests.

Quacks, Blood Tests and Sonograms!

 

Week of Pregnancy: 13/14 – Apparently we were a week behind according to our sonographer J

Fruit to Fetus Comparison: size of Lemon – approx 47g – and still growing! (Approx 10cm from head to toe)

Cravings: Nothing. I don’t want to eat. (Who are you and what have you done with Rhona?!)

Aversions: Meh – just don’t want to eat.

Husband’s excitement metre: Upping the scale – especially with the sonogram!

So this week’s excitement started with me getting a lot fatter all at once, and not from eating (although later it was from eating...)! Now my fat jeans won’t fit unless I tuck them under the ‘bump’ that is forming. Also, boobs are freaking massive. Justin somehow does not mind this new happening, however I find myself running into things and knocking things off tables at chest height where before I would have squeezed past with an inch to spare. Damn you hormones! 

Secondly, we are about to complete the first trimester, which ultimately means much less risk of miscarriage. Of course, this is awesome, but doesn’t stop me worrying. For a while I think ‘maybe I’m just getting fat and the baby isn’t really there anymore’ – from previous experience, miscarriages can be rather uneventful and it scares me how silent and unnoticed they can go for a while. But, as I’ve had no symptoms of miscarriage or anything else ‘wrong’, I choose to try and stay positive and not worry. Worrying makes you stress, and stress is not good for many reasons. 

I promise myself I will eat healthily over the school holidays. This does nto start well as we have fish and chips for dinner on Thursday, Thai for dinner on Friday (damned social obligations!! Haha), and (I’m ashamed to say) fish and chips again on Sunday. This is horrific. I blame the weather and my exhaustion, and conveniently leave out my laziness and the fact I don’t really want to cook.

Apart from my horrible diet (IT WILL GET BETTER! I SWEAR! Look, I’m getting out the dried apricots and walnuts!) a couple more exciting and frustrating things have occurred over the last week.

IT”S ULTRASOUND WEEK!!! WOOOO!

But I’ll get to that in a minute. First, the story of Rhona (NOT A RACIST!) and the Burmese GP. 

In order to see my obstetrician, I need to get a referral from the GP... so I make an appointment and toddle down to the practice on Thursday morning in my spare. 

I wait 50 minutes past my appointment time, am still not taken in, and tell the receptionist that I have to go back to school to, you know, do my job. Kind of understandable - these things can happen.

She makes me an appointment for 4pm, and I promise to return.

*Skip day of teaching wherein we find we have to move everything out of our rooms for painting and flooring by the next morning... but that’s another story*

At 4pm I toddle back to the GP, who only makes me wait 40 minutes this time (Score!!) he is a very nice man who happens to have a very thick Burmese accent that I find hard to understand sometimes (awkward!). He then proceeds to tell me I am a) 22 weeks pregnant , b) maybe I will need a blood test.

Sigh. This will be harder than first thought.

I politely tell him ‘No – I’m around 12 weeks pregnant – here’s my ultrasound from 6 weeks, and that was 6 weeks ago’

Dr: “It’s very small”.

Me: “WHAT? They didn’t say anything about it being small!”

Dr: “It’s very small for 12 weeks”.

Me: Sigh... That’s because it’s 6 weeks at the time of the ultrasound.

Dr: “Ah. Well then it’s fine.”

I quietly try not to blow him up with my mind.

Secondly, as I explain to him, I will not only need a NUCHAL SONOGRAM, but I will also need a NUCHAL BLOOD TEST. (Nuchal tests discern things like possibility of Down’s Syndrome and other chromosomal abnormalities quite early in the pregnancy – Justin and I both decided we want to know anything and everything as early as we can.)

Dr says that is fine, happily writes me a referral to my Obstetrician, referral for blood test and sonogram. Whew! Mission complete. (Though on my referral form he does put 22 weeks, and some other incorrect things)

Disclaimer: Not many GP’s – and perhaps not this one either – are complete imbeciles. Perhaps it was the language gap, perhaps he’d just had a long day, but he pretty much screwed up everything he possibly could. Please note – he is a lovely guy and I’m sure he’s done wonderful things for many people. Just not me.

Also Justin told me I was being racist because he was Burmese. I told him I didn’t feel comfortable with him, not because he was from another country or I couldn't understand him all the time, but because he seemed rather incompetent. We agree to disagree. I decide to see the other Burmese doctor next time, as perhaps he will be a lot better.

SO! Skip several days to ULTRASOUND DAY!!! WOO!

Got blood test on Friday morning (easily! Apparently being pregnant makes it easy to find my veins – one jab and six vials later I am a little less blood-filled.)

And go in to get my Nuchal sonogram, husband by my side.

After a 6 hour drive we toddle in to the radiology clinic looking a little bedraggled - less like Sunshine Coast Chic and more like Biloela Hick (PS: Biloelians are not hicks, just to clarify, we simply dress very differently to the Sunshine Coasters in their boutique slacks and fifty dollar thongs) and check in. She asks for my blood results, and I hand them over.

Bronwyn the lovely receptionist: Are these your only blood results?

Me: Yeeees... (confused)

Bronwyn: Hmm... well, your doctor has ordered you first trimester bloods, rather than nuchal. I can’t do the nuchal scan.

Me: WHAT? (Actually do try to blow up GP with my mind)

Bronwyn: Wait – let’s call him and see if I can get a referral for another blood test – you can go next door – and then we can do the sonogram.

Me: (Pretending to be calm) Sounds great. Thanks so much for your help.

I give Justin the ‘I told you I wasn’t being racist, that GP really is a Quack’ look. He rolls his eyes as a gesture of surrender (or at least that’s what I make of it).

Bronwyn: Also, he hasn’t ordered you a nuchal scan, he’s ordered you a vascular and uterine ultrasound.

Me: What are they?

Bronwyn: For veins and uterus. Not pregnancy.

Me: (Plotting GP's murder) Okay... So where does this leave us?

Bronwyn agrees we can still get the ultrasound done. I jump for joy inwardly, as I am rather tired at this point and all these ‘bad omens’ are not pointing toward a good ultrasound. My superstitious side sometimes gets out of control, if I’m completely honest.Thank God they don't allow black cats into the radiology clinic.

GP sends through form, I get another blood test (whoopee?!) and we go in for the ultrasound.

All the screw ups, the waiting, the blood tests and the stress are worth it. 

We see little Mini-Muffin looking like an actual person – not an alien – and he/she is moving around like a little jumping bean!

ALL IS RIGHT IN THE WORLD!!!!

I have a little cry and Justin squeezes my hand tightly, though he swears he didn’t tear up at the sight of our 14 week old unborn child. Too early to find out the sex, but our lovely radiologist tells us he/she looks healthy, good size (for 14 weeks! Woops! A week behind!) and very unlikely any abnormalities. 

Mini-Muffin jumps for joy, rests his/her head on hand, pushes up against the side of my uterus with his/her little legs to stretch out. I think it has Justin’s nose, but he disagrees. 

For 20 minutes I couldn’t take my eyes of the screen. I laughed a lot, which didn’t help and made the poor thing jiggle around like it was on a rollercoaster, but it was just amazing.

Here is the little face that made everything worth it:

Love

Rhonie xxx