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45 days old today …

June 20, 2011

The Spaniard is 45 days old today …

woke up this morning thinking about that … and I felt a little queasy, which was reassuring and continued the tingly achey chest feeling … and I’m sure they’ve become a little fuller.

Settled into a comfortable ‘being looked after’ routine at Mummy’s house has been wonderful … I’m so so lucky to have the chance to share all this with her. Sleep, work, walk, eat, sleep … not setting the world alight right now but hopefully providing a safe little world for The Spaniard to thrive and grow in.

Seeing Mr Lees and Dr Hall on Wednesday … looking forward to that … and dare I say it beginning to feel a tiny bit more ‘pregnant’ and optimistic … no I don’t dare say that, it feels too much like tempting fate.

Sun is out today – off for a walk around the Magog Trust land … my circuit – takes about an hour … lovely out there … and have set the world to rights this morning talking to friends about how they felt … so so reassuring that Becca didn’t throw up at all.

Thanks also to my friend Lindsey for sending me a real ‘reality’ check message about resting … I guess compared to how I normally am doing a bit feels like resting but compared to a ‘normal’ person I’m still doing too much … so weird all this .. at this ancient age it’s hard changing habits but I’m going to have to be changing alot more than this and worrying far more about this small other person than myself.

I hope Roy settles into things a bit more he is very unsettled and unhappy at the moment.

Hey ho

2 Comments leave one →
  1. June 24, 2011 12:05 am

    Ooh, I got a mention! And I did seriously mean that you need to rest, rest and rest again hun. Slow it right down. I’ve known you for long enough now to know that you probably shouldn’t be doing even 5% of what you think is ‘taking it easy’.

    OK, here goes my little bit. I, as you know, was pregnant with twins. Half Spanish. Who are now 17. I had one day of being sick throughout my entire pregnancy and the doctor reckoned that was water poisoning, not morning (all day and night actually) sickness.

    I didn’t even look pregnant till I was 5 months gone and even then apparently looked like a bit of knotted string. But then I am a ropemaker’s daughter so I guess that is appropriate. I didn’t find out it was twins till 6 months in, and did pretty much everything wrong throughout the entire 8 months – they were premature. That included drinking, smoking and being hit by a 40 ton truck in France on my way back to Spain and then threatening the truck driver with bits of his own vehicle. I ate all the wrong things, comprehensively – untreated fresh goat’s cheese, Canarian chorizo which is raw, etc etc) and only had cravings for rice pudding which I am allergic to and couldn’t force down because my survival instinct kicked in!

    The only thing I did right was take iron and folic acid, but that was only if the doctor agreed to stop trying to make me get rid of my cats and stop his harping on about toxoplasmosis. (As it turned out I had the highest count of antibodies for TP they had ever seen when I finally insisted they test me – I used to eat the cats’ food before I could even walk and have never been without a cat in the house or bus).

    The girls only started to wriggle when I finally stopped rushing round Europe like a headless chicken who thought her life was about to be over. The birth lasted 1 hour 50 minutes (once I realised that it wasn’t the cat who had weed on me in bed), and 2 hours before the girls were born I was sitting, extremely bored, on a hospital doorstep with no shoes on (had left them in the ambulance) having a fag whilst they looked for a doctor who fancied birthing twins. The kids’ Spanish dad was lying stretched out on the floor of the maternity unit unable to move with lumbago. He had been carried in on the stretcher, not me!

    Am not proud of how casual I was about pregnancy, but suffice to say, we are all different, and my kids have survived not just being inside me, but also my haphazard approach to motherhood. I had never even held a baby before they were born, nor changed a nappy, and it was 4 days before I summoned up courage to go and ask one of the old ladies in the village who had had 14 kids how the hell you washed a sprog in a bath. We had no electricity nor water in the house and at a few days old only, I deemed it a good idea to take one of them to Womad in Las Palmas!!

    Spaniards are tough as hell Ellie, and I’ve got two of ’em despite my best efforts ;o)

    • June 24, 2011 2:59 pm

      Thank you so much Lindsey … I hadn’t realised the girls were Spaniards … my admiration for you knows no bounds … your energy, determination and passion … you really are (and always have been) someone I aspire to be like.

      Thank you for giving me a bit more courage when it was very needed.

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