Tiny Hearts

Today has been a very stressful day but thankfully it has been a very, very good one for us. Today was Alfie's second hospital appointment of the week. His first was yesterday. Yesterday we came home with a referral to another department and an appointment for the senior consultant but other than that, no news.

Today was his appointment with the paediatric cardiologist from Leeds. Alfie has had a persistent, prominent murmur since he was four months old. Since he had bronchiolitis. It never went away so they decided to check it considering he has a lot of other problems, they thought it possible the heart murmur to be linked. I am so happy to tell you it's not. The murmur is just a murmur, nothing more sinister as the consultants first thought. I am one extremely happy mummy!

The appointment was straight forward, listening to his heart, checking his pulse and then a heart scan. The scan is similar to an ultrasound. The doctor was fantastic with Alfie. He even got Thomas the Tank on his iPhone for Alfie to watch while he did the scan! There were a few tears, mainly because Alfie was frightened. I mean the poor kid knows exactly what goes down in hospitals with the amount of time he spends in them! The doctor announced that his heart was very "whooshy" but that it was definitely nothing to worry about and it was probably caused by his poorly chest. So happy that his heart is OK!

After the heart scan, we had to have blood tests done for yet more tests to be run on something else. I put the Emela cream on an hour before in the hospital cafe. You'd think I'd stuck needles in him with the amount of crying and screaming he did. He was so distressed. My guess is that he knows what happens when he has that cream on. That makes me really sad. My baby is so familiar with hospitals and procedures he knows what to expect. He calmed down once chips, juice and cake were offered. The blood taking wasn't so easy. The nurses were brilliant and tried their very best but his veins are tiny and he's a chunky boy. They kept disappearing. Eventually the decision was made to prick his foot and squeeze the blood out. This didn't go exactly to plan either as Alfie didn't bleed very much. After lots of tears, patience and pricks to his foot they got the amount of blood they needed. Alfie was given a teddy bear of his choice for being so brave!

We have to wait until we see the consultant again for the results of the blood tests. We have a lot happening over the next few months with hospital appointments and what not. We are still none the wiser at what's next but for now I am concentrating on the positive: my baby's heart is fine. That makes my heart swell with absolute joy. Very very happy with that result :)

Mummy Madness!

Saturday morning we got up, got dressed and then Mr L dropped Alfie and I off at Meadowhall. For those of you who aren't from Yorkshire, Meadowhall is a shopping mall. Yes, you read correctly, I took my toddler to a shopping mall on a SATURDAY. It gets better...not only did I take my 22 month old toddler to the busiest place on earth on a Saturday but I took him without the pram. BY CHOICE.

Mr L was working an afters shift so he couldn't come with us. Meadowhall is notoriously busy most days, weekends are BEDLAM. I don't drive so I had to catch the train home. We have a Quinny pram which isn't the most petite of prams. I made the brave (mad) decision that we would go without the pram to save face on embarrassing situations trying to get the pram on and off a heaving train.

I expected a tantrum as soon as we arrived. Alfie is a daddy's boy and I thought once he realised daddy wasn't coming, I'd be in for tantrum number 1. It didn't happen. We took our costs off and deposited them in the safe lockers. Still no tantrum. I put his backback with integrated reins on. Surely a tantrum would be on its way now... Or perhaps not? He fell over when we arrived at the entrance of Marks and Spencer. No tears still. All the way through the busy upper level of M&S my usually very difficult toddler, toddled on. No tantrums, tears or whining. Winner.

We arrived at Waterstones so far unscathed by a tantrum. Aha! There it was! A tantrum. Alfie saw the boring adult books and wasn't having any of it. Here we go...I'd prepared myself for this moment. I'd packed alsorts to ensure a smooth shopping trip. I was army ready. Then, Alfie saw the children's books. He stopped crying and pointed. He shouted "book book!" And that was the end of that tantrum! Less than 30 seconds. We looked at the books, he showed me his favourite book "Dear Zoo" and pointed "mine" at the Mr Men books.

Our shopping trip lead us to the Disney Store. A real treat and test all in one. Alfie looked and pressed the buttons on Buzz Lightyears and "ooohed" at the floor (very sparkly!) he even shouted "UMO" (Nemo) when he saw the Nemo toys. I pulled him away to look at big boy cups. Not once did he tantrum or cry or whine. I rewarded him with a new plate, cup and cutlery set all in Nemo. He was a happy boy. I was a happy mummy although slightly nervous as a toddler without a nap who hadn'tyet tantrumed was bound to explode at some point. Right?

Wrong! We shopped, we went for lunch, we browsed and we walked a lot. He only wanted me to carry him a handful of times when it was really busy with crowds. We finished our trip back where we started at Waterstones where I bought us both a book as a reward. Mine for being brave. His for being so good! He loved the train ride home. He's a massive train fan do knew I'd have no problems there. A train and a bus ride and we arrived at my mother in laws, unscathed by tantrums or tears. Perfect!

Until bedtime anyway....!

Ugly Duckling

I hate the way I look. There you go, I actually said it. I've always hated everything about my appearance from being ridiculously young. I remember primary school and realising I wasn't one of the pretty girls. How fucked up is that? When asked what my "best feature" was I would always reply "my nails" because before I had Alfie my natural nails were actually really nice. Long, strong and white at the tips. A nail technician once told me she wouldn't touch my nails apart from with gel because she didn't want to ruin them. Since having Alfie my nails are brittle and constantly breaking. My nail polish is always chipped too. So there goes my best feature.

I absolutely hate compliments. They embarrass the hell out of me. Someone called me an "attractive young woman" once and I actually felt sick. If I don't like myself then none of you lot can either *points finger* I mean friends *have* to disagree with me because they are friends and they love me. My husband has to agree with me because the poor bugger married me! My family have to tell me I'm gorgeous because what else are they supposed to say? They don't want to hurt my feelings. The fact is, I'm a nice enough person so people WANT to be nice to me. This means lying through their back teeth and saying I'm half decent in the appearance department.

What don't I like about myself? Pretty much everything. My skin is ridiculously pale and so sensitive that the slightest touch makes me flare up in red, blotchy patches. It's a mixture of dry and oily. I get spots despite having a really good skin care routine. My hair is that horrible curly, wavy, straight mix that means unless I straighten it, it looks shit. My eyes are really narrow and really dark brown. I used to get kids at school calling me "black eyes" because they're so brown. My figure is crap but this is my own fault. I'm a lazy cow. I used to run and train religiously but since settling down, I haven't made the effort. Poor Mr L. I'm slim but have a horrible tummy, legs and arse shape. My posture is like something out of an evolution poster. My boobs are fake and despite that are still not fantastic. In fact, I got called flat chested the other day! Not bad for a 32C/D (bra dependent!). My nose is huge. In fact, I think I'm spawn of a witch its that big. I have 3 massive moles that are totally horrid: my neck, my arm and under my armpit. My teeth aren't straight or pearly white. I try to keep up with fashion but when you don't feel great you tend to dress in clothes that hide you best. I'd live in my pjs if it was socially acceptable in places other than where Jeremy Kyle participants live!

On the days I do dress to impress, I feel even more self conscious. The Christmas party I wore a lovely dress, spent ages on my hair and make up and even wore suck in the tummy undies. I walked in the room and felt tiny and inadequate. At work, I make the effort sometimes but its a waste of time. I feel stupid and uncomfortable. No one notices if I make an effort or not so I figure, why bother? If you know me you know I hate Facebook. Ok so I hate it because its full of nosey fuckers but I also hate it because of all the photos. Why would I want to go make myself feel even worse by looking at photos of the girls I went to school with being all glam mummy's even when they think they look "rough" - come to my house love, I'll show you rough looking! Or the girls I used to work with on their work photos looking like freaking Barbie dolls. Or the girls I work with who are always looking hot to trot on nights out! Fucking hell there's even a girl who looks fantastic at the gym no matter how hard she works and trust me, she trains damn hard!

So today after much thought whilst shopping in Aldi, feeling inadequate to the glam granny who I almost rammed with my trolly for isle blocking, I have decided I am not one of life's beauties. I am one of life's, for want of a better word, mingers. I am going to embrace my inner minger and just get on with it because I am fed up of feeling so shitty about the way I look all the time. I'm a nice person, I love my friends and my family, I give to charity and I help old people so give me a break ok! I can't be sexy AND fucking wonderful now can I? That would just be greedy!

Birth Story: Baby Quinn

Z had a miscarriage just 2 months before she found out she was pregnant again with her son Quinn was born.  Please note Z had a traumatic birth experience and although her son was and is fine, the details surrounding her labour and birth are a hard read.

"Pregnant again 4-5 week approx after suffering a miscarriage only two months before.  I'd had a d&c to remove the remains of our pregnancy.  Nervous doesn't cover how I felt.  I told no one and purposely took the test on our anniversary - this time it had to be ok.
Our due date was 9/10/10 that date came- along with swollen hands and loss of dexterity -  1 week later no sign 10 days and a failed sweep (infact she didn't attempt as baby wasn't in the right place < note that part.)

So I was booked in for induction on the 21st October 2010 - I was petrified but at the same time was ready ( more than ready ) for pregnancy to be over.I was put on a 4 bed ward with my oh and monitored on and off all day and given two peseries . ( turned out I was already in labor before they even started induction)
so my hopes were high for a speedy birth.  Well after OH went home I was in agony not exactly crippling pain just not nice - I asked if I could have the pain killers they offered earlier to be told "are you sure you might want to wait a bit" no I wanted a bit of kip so took them. However about 1 hr later I was writhing about and walking up and down the ward - ok I thought this is it I felt sick with pain but tried again to get in bed. A little later still awake I felt a grinding pop jumped out of bed to see the waters had gone. I buzzed for someone who said no love you have wet yourself !!!!! I hadn't by the way as you'll find out in a bit.

By 6AM with no sleep and in lots of pain no spare clothes & distressed I rang OH to get to the hospital ASAP as I was getting a feeling that surly after 22 hours something would happen soon. The doctor arrived at 7.30am who was a butcher by all accounts and couldn't determine if I was dilated or not - now even I knew it would be best for her to wait till my next contraction but the midwife had to tell her this!! It was the midwife who established I was about 1.5 cm and it would be ok for me to go to the labor suite. So off I popped determined to carry all my bags lol! Then through the doors to my relief was my OH.

After a 30 minute struggle with me refusing a cannula throwing up through sheer fear of needles combined with erractic contractions i wasn't very good . Eventually after gas and air ( for the cannula I add :)) I was attached to the drip which resulted in back to back contractions ( ouch !) this went on for a while - the butcher arrived to check me and tried 3 - 4 times to break the remainder of my waters ( it was the hind waters that went in the night) again it took the midwife to do it !! about early evening I was asked if id like an epidural - well after all them hours I'd had enough and said yes ( looking back I knew why they wanted me to have one - read on) . Well the butcher returned and it is she I blame for my bad back up to this day ! She ruptured a blood vessel and caused nerve damage, the epidural only half worked! A senior doctor came in and administered lydicane which was the most relief I'd had although not great.

So time was ticking throughout all this my heart wasn't taking things v well and at one point the midwife brought someone in to check I was ok . According to OH this was very worrying , I'm fuzzy in my memory I just felt really out of it like I was really ill not in labour . Eventually it was declared I would need an emergency c section . And finally in theatre the epidural was declared failed and I was given g/a and finally knocked out ....

The next full memory I have is registering my baby's birth 3 weeks later and realising he was a boy!!!
I have bits and draps of memories of trying to feed him and dress him despite been hooked up to transfusion bloods.  I had a morphine drip in my stomach too which was removed shortly after I'd gone to the ward.
My OH had been waiting 2+ hours holding our son who was born not breathing but was resuscitated and was fine and very alert already holding his head much to the amusement of the ward staff and oh :) Finally I was delivered to a 4 bed ward woken up told to look at the baby and asked what I thought the sex was. Its all a blur to be honest and it was gone 2am our son was born at 12.07am.  Turned out I wasn't as critically ill as originally thought but I'd lost a hell of a lot of blood and was severely anaemic.

We went home on the Monday after the Saturday he was born. After much begging from me and pretending I was fine when really I was in agony with my back but I had threatened to discharge myself. I suppose my story concludes almost 4 months later when I went to read my notes with a senior midwife, it turns out our baby was never in the right position to be born as the midwife who attempted the sweep discovered his head never engaged - I'd gone through all that for nothing as after the hind waters had gone his head should have engaged, he was layed sideways with his foot stuck in my rib (I felt this so knew) normally a c section would have been advised but the butcher never noticed so my anger still fires when I think of it.  I suffered severe post traumatic stress for months for a so called doctor who might I add was a trainee !!!
It's a very long story as you can see my baby's birth wasn't something you generally read I never expected it to be like this It has caused a lot of heart ache for me and the bond wasn't there initially it took for me to take him swimming that triggered something inside me.

So Quinn was born on 12.07am 23/10/10 weighing at 7lb 11oz.  He is two now and I can openly say I don't just love him, I adore the very bones of him he is my light my smile my life."

Quinn on the day he was born

Quinn and his mummy now

Endometriosis Awareness Month

I was 17 when I had my first operation, six weeks before my 18th birthday. I'd had painful periods from the first day Aunt Flo showed her ugly mug. I remember feeling worse and worse. I went to see my GP expecting to be fobbed off with antibiotics for some phantom infection or told I had IBS (irritable bowel syndrome) again. My bowels were fine! My uterus was not. I was sent straight to hospital in an ambulance. I was taken to ward 13. Women's Services. Gyne. At 17 this was horrifying. A doctor was going to want to examine me *there*. I'd been having sex since I was 15 so I was no prude but the thought of a doctor examining me was terrifying. Painful sex was something I thought was the norm. I never said anything because discussing sex was so embarrassing at that age.

I was examined by lots of doctors and consultants. One consultant said I was "too young" to have a gyne condition. A scan confirmed otherwise. The pain completely disabled me. I laid in the bed crying, writhing in pain. I had never in my life experienced anything like it. Almost 9 years on, I've become used to that pain. The scan confirmed I had a very large ovarian cyst about the size of a grape fruit. It also confirmed I had "bits" in my womb. It was endometriosis. I was taken to theatre where I had a major operation to remove the cyst and to investigate the endo. I basically had a Caesarian cut along with three key hole incisions. I came back from theatre a very poorly girl. I was on regular morphine and stayed in hospital for two weeks. No one talked about the endo. They removed it and I thought that was the end. None of my family had ever heard of it even my boyfriends mum, an ex nurse hadn't heard of it. I thought it was rare. I was wrong. Around 2 million women in the UK alone suffer with endometriosis.

I went to Barcelona for my 18th birthday and thought that I was better. It was just one of those things. 9 years on I have had 11 operations, countless hospital stays, more pills and potions than a pharmacy wagon, endless "routine" scans and an appointment to start IVF.

My husband and I had resigned ourselves to the fact I was faulty. The endo had knackered my womb up. The number of operations I'd had meant my insides are a tangle of scar tissue. This caused one of my tubes to block. I had an operation to unblock the tube and more diathermy to the endometriosis but my consultant booked me in for an appointment with the fertility specialists for December. He wasn't convinced I'd conceive without help. In September 2010 I fell pregnant with Alfie. My endo problems stopped. I was blissfully happy. Endometriosis can often disappear once a woman has had children. In May 2011 my beautiful boy was born and I couldn't have been happier.

In March 2012 I was admitted into hospital once again. I had an ovarian Cust that was strangling my ovary. It was filling itself up with fluid and endometriosis from my insides. Getting bigger and bigger. Had I not had the operation when I did, my ovary would have died. Nearly a year on from then, I've had bad days but I always get through them. Endometriosis will not beat me. It's a tiny part of who I am but I will not let it run my life.

It's a condition that millions and billions of women suffer in silence with. I've often had people make remarks at me that "it's just period pain". Yeah. I'd like to see them go through the same hell. Just because you cannot SEE an illness does not make it any easier to deal with or any less painful.

Silent Sunday

Birth Story: Kayleigh Marie

Today's birth story comes from Yummy Mummy Kayleigh. Kayliegh is a young mum to two very beautiful boys.  This is her story of how Louie, her youngest son came into the world...

"It was January 2012 when I found out I was pregnant. After 3 negative pregnancy tests, the doctor confirmed that I was indeed pregnant. I just knew I was. My partner and I knew it was going to be hard having another baby as I already have a six year old son to my ex and we weren't in the best situation financially, but we decided we were going to love this baby and do what ever we could to give him a happy, healthy life. 

Pregnancy didn't agree with me. I had terrible morning sickness and aversions to foods and drinks that I usually loved. I was always tired which was hard as I still had my little boy to take care of. It did get better around 24 weeks when the sickness had gone and I had extra energy. I really enjoyed my pregnancy from about 24-32 weeks. I felt like I was "blooming." I would lay for hours watching him move inside my belly. It's the best feeling in the world.

I didn't expect my pregnancy to last much longer as I delivered my first son at 33 weeks. He weighed 4lbs 14oz. I was convinced I would give birth to this one around the same time. 33 weeks came, and went, as did weeks 34, 35, 36 and 37. I finally started to believe I was going to carry this baby till the end. I was HUGE. I really did look like I was about to pop. It felt like it too. It hurt to walk and I had intense braxton hicks daily. I was ready to meet my baby. We all were. 40 weeks and 2 days and still no baby. I had my induction date set and so now it was definite that our baby would be here in the next week. That night, on October 2nd 2012 around 8pm, I was experiencing the worst braxton hicks so far. They weren't painful but they were strong, and coming regularly. Anyway, I decided there were nothing and went to bed about 10pm. At 12am I woke up and the contractions were worse. I knew it was time. From getting out of bed to getting to the toilet I'd already had two contractions. Something kicked in and I went down stairs and made my oldest Sons packed lunch and got all our bags ready before phoning the labour ward. The midwife gave the usual advice "take a bath and see how you are." So I did, I woke my partner and he helped me in to the tub. The contractions were coming every 4 minutes and lasting about a minute at this point. The bath didnt help so we decided it was time to go up to the hospital.

 

We dropped my son off at a friends house and off we went. I remember saying "I bet I'm not in labour, I bet they send me home!" As I'd never been this pregnant, I really didnt know what to expect. Walking in to the hospital and I had to stop and hold on to the wall while my contraction past. I couldn't talk and I closed my eyes as I breathed through them. They were coming thick and fast now and almost made me go in to a daze. I got to the labour ward and gave the midwife the heads up and all my details  I went to the loo to get a urine sample for the midwife and it was then I got my "show" After that, the midwife checked my and she said "okay, so you're 8cm dilated  My partner and I could not believe I had waited that long. I didn't even know I was in labour at first. It was all systems go now. The midwife ordered my partner to fetch her an instrument so she could break my waters. I didn't feel anything when she did this, all I could feel was a trickle of water. I asked if there was anything I could have for the pain and she said "no you're to far gone, you'll have to do with gas and air" Which does nothing for the pain when you're that far in labour. She said "you'll probably want to push soon" before she left the room, I wanted to push. I began pushing around 2:45am. I pushed for an hour and I could feel that I'd pushed him down the birth canal. It was hard work. I was physically exhausted  Gritting my teeth as I pushed with all my might. The midwife told us that the baby was facing side ways so it was harder for him to get out. His heart rate was fine so she wasn't concerned and carried on letting me push.

 

I pushed for another hour and he still wasn't moving any further than just before the exit. I tried pushing on all fours and still nothing. When I finally put my legs in stirrups he started to crown ever so slightly, but not enough. The midwife decided to bring in the doctor who was going to assist me with forceps. At this point I just wanted him out. As the doctor was setting everything up and approached the bottom of the bed I gave one almighty push. The midwife said "wait shes going to do this on her own" I knew I was going to get him out with the next push. Sure enough, the next contraction came and I pushed my baby out. He was placed straight on my chest which was a new experience as my first baby was whisked away to SCBU. My partner cut his cord and that was that. He was here. Baby Louie born 3rd Oct 2012 at 4.52am weighing 9lb 5oz.I felt like super woman. I couldn't believe Id just delivered this beautiful boy. After that, I could not move. I was a zombie. My ribs, my arms, my legs even my teeth ached. I couldn't lift my arms to brush my hair so it was hard feeding my boy. Luckily I had the help and support of Louies Daddy. 

We went home on the 4th and I started to pick up. It took around 2 month for me to get back to normal. Id had stitches and I remember thinking it would never go back to normal, but it did. Thankfully. My son is 4 months old now and he is amazing. I would do it all again in a heart beat. Being able to carry a child and bring them into the world is the most amazing feeling I have ever had and I am so proud of what I have achieved. I'm really enjoying being a Mummy again and I'm lucky to have such a wonderful partner and two beautiful Sons."

 



Kayleigh's baby bump at 40 weeks +1