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Heart Attack?
Almost, I'm sure. I so hate little scares... especially when they involve Jake.
I'd just finished bathing him, dressing him and brushing his hair. I left him standing in the living room, leaning against the window ledge and watching TV. I walked down the hall to Jake's room to hang up his towel and was almost finished when I heard him scream. I dropped everything and ran.
When I got to the living room a split second later, Jake was crying. He walked toward me with his arms out to me. There was thick, red blood in his mouth and all over his chin. And more was coming. I grabbed him and ran to the kitchen, shouting "what did you do". He screamed and kicked while I tried to ascertain whether or not he'd bitten his tongue in half, which was what my imagination was telling me he'd surely done.
Finally, after several sheets of kitchen towel, the bleeding slowed. By this time, I'd repeated "what did you do" a zillion times and Stephen was standing beside me, wondering whether or not a trip to the hospital was needed. With very shaky hands, I poked and prodded Jake's mouth and came to the conclusion that he'd badly bitten his lip. I can only assume that he'd tried - again - to climb onto one of his toys and had stumbled, banging his chin on the window ledge.
As a means of calming the beast (distraction!), I took him out on the front porch and let him watch the birds and cars. Within a minute, the tears stopped and we went back inside.
And while Jake ran off to watch Barney, I sat down and shook like a leaf and wept like a baby.
I never again want to see my son's blood.
Birthday Party!
We went to my Mum's house yesterday to celebrate Jake's 2nd birthday and, boy, was he spoiled! My brother and sister were there too, along with their partners. Not only did everyone bring gifts for the boy, but they brought BIG gifts.
Now, not only does Jake own tents, a wagon, a tricycle, a bouncy castle and the zillion other space-taking items, but he also now has a car, a lawnmower and a picnic table! And all that is in our small living room right now.
We tried to rearrange things and put a few toys away, but we're quickly running out of space!
The car:
The table:
The lawnmower:
Poor kid, knackered:
When things get to be a bit too much
My Mum lit the '2' shaped candle on Jake's birthday and we all started to sing. As you can see, Jake was pleased with the attention... at first:
Bridget Jones' Diary
Yeah, finally got around to seeing that last night. I liked it. Funny and charming. No boring lulls.
Recommended... if you haven't already seen it.
Testing, testing!
I tested yesterday. I was 5 days late on my period. I had no menstrual symptoms, but have been feeling a bit nauseous and I've also been having that achy feeling that happens a bit higher up in your tummy. Menstrual cramps are low down - these aches were similar to the stretching feelings I had when I was pregnant with Jake.
I haven't seen a doctor yet, but I calculate that I'm 5 weeks along with a due date of December 11th.
We're thrilled! Jake doesn't have a clue what's happening yet.
So, I guess this is back to being a "baby" blog!
Bleugh
A few days have passed since I tested and, unlike my pregnancy with Jake, I feel pretty lousy. With Jake, the sickness started later on (hell, I think I only found out I was pregnant at 7 weeks!) and even then, I only felt sickness in the late afternoon. This time, I feel nauseous on and off throughout the day. Like my insides are churning! And I'm only 5 weeks along. Ugh.
And nothing takes my fancy to eat for supper. Nothing. I look in the fridge, then freezer, then the fridge again. And everything looks so unappealing. I had toast for supper tonite.
And to top it all off, Jake and I have colds again. Runny noses, sneezing and sore throats. And I can't even take anything for it.
It's 8:30pm... I'm tired... I'm going to bed...
Midwives versus Ob-Gyns
I've contacted the local Midwife's group in my area. They are a group of 4 midwives that, up until recently, only dealt with women who were having home births. As it is the norm in this country to be delivered by your ob-gyn, the midwives are under-used, to say the least. As of September, I'm told, the midwives in this area will finally be given their hospital rights in our local hospital. It seems that each hospital hands over those rights as the demand warrants.
So, there are 4 midwives in the city where I live and they have an office at a medical centre not far from our house. I contacted them the other day and was told that it was good that I'd called early in my pregnancy because they get booked up quite quickly. Luckily, the December delivery time was still available! Obviously, people are using the midwives in lieu of doctors, but it's not yet like in the UK.
After I was asked about my last menstrual cycle and my pregnancy with Jake, the midwife asked me how I'd heard about them. My answer was simple: in the UK, it is the norm to be cared for and delivered by a midwife. I'd had a successful and enjoyable (if one can called delivery 'enjoyable') time with my last pregnancy and birth and I was keen for the more personal feel of midwife-care this time around.
So, I have an appointment for May 8th, as they don't want to see me until I'm 9 weeks along. I have been warned to call ahead of time in case my midwife, Veronica, is away at a birth. They are, I'm told, trying to make it so that another midwife will be able to take over, but they're still trying to work that out. There just aren't enough midwives! And budget, I'm betting.
I'm still feeling pretty yucky in the afternoons. Supper tonite? A croissant with butter. That's it. Healthy foods, you ask? I had lots of salad for lunch. A meal where I feel that I can eat just about anything and everything.
And I'm drinking ice water by the gallon! Peeing a lot, as you can imagine.
Jake's New Trick
I gave my darling Jake his sippy cup earlier today and he ran off with it, while I made lunch. With food in the oven, I headed to the living room to check on him. His cup was on the floor, empty.
"Boy! You must have been thirsty, Jake."
Jake turned to look at me and I saw that he was soaked. The front of his t-shirt, his vest underneath, his pants. Everything. How on earth did he do that? It's a non-drip cup!
As you can imagine, the boy just looked up at me with his lovely, impish grin. But he wasn't talking.
So I change his clothes and we ate lunch.
Later, I give him another drink. As he ran off, I chased behind him quietly.
I watch him as he started sucking, filling his mouth, then he opened his mouth wide and let the liquid cascade over his chin and down his front. Before he could do it again, I took the cup from him and tried sitting with him while he drank. But that wasn't fun, so he ran off to play.
Mummy always puts an end to the funnest games!
The Midday Blues
Jake, my angel boy, usually sleeps until about 7:30am. Today, he slept until 8:30am! I never would have expected a two-year old to sleep that late. Especially as his room is bright with sunlight by about 6:30am!
And seeing as I go to bed around 10pm most nights, I certainly don't think that I'm sleep-deprived. But I'm finding that exhaustion is overwhelming me around midday, everyday. From about 11am to about 2pm, I yawn constantly. I have no energy and, today, I was especially weepy.
Let me try to explain the weepiness:
I was feeling exhausted and frustrated and Jake was moaning. Just walking around, moaning. For no apparent reason. I offered food, drink, bum-change, etc. Nothing worked. He was simply in a crappy mood, in my humble opinion.
It was a beautiful day outside so I decided that it might do both Jake and I some good to get out to the park. I put his shoes and hat on (I put them on him, not on myself) and popped him in his wagon. He seemed happy at first, but really just moaned all the way to the park.
You know the kind of moan I mean? The really annoying one that it is simply a soft moan on the exhale. Inhale, moan, inhale, moan, and so on.
We arrived at the park and, once clear of the road, I took him out of the wagon to let him run. And he ran back toward the street! I tried numerous times to head him toward the swings and the jungle gym, but he didn't want to know. In fact, he would just go "all floppy". You know, like "if I make my legs go limp and drop to the ground, she can't make me walk anywhere".
Back in the wagon he went!
We got to the swings and my little angel kicked and screamed as I tried to give him the pleasurable experience of going on the swings. How stupid of me. The seesaw? No way. The jungle gym? Sort of, but that lasted about 5 seconds. Run around in the grass? Only toward the road! Grrr!
So, after chasing him back several times and feeling my blood pressure rise as I desperately tried to share an enjoyable moment with my beloved son, I popped him back in the wagon (unceremoniously, this time) and walked home, feeling pleased that I'd worn sunglasses so that no one could see the tears.
I got home feeling more tired and frustrated than when I left the house. Stephen was suitable sympathetic and took us all out for lunch. That did the trick and I felt better. Calmer. Still exhausted, but calmer.
Now, at 9pm, my energy levels are a bit more stable again. But I'm not looking forward to midday tomorrow!
