Good grief. It’s 2015.
All manner of things have been going on and truth be told, I’ve been avoiding this place. Mainly because I filled it to its limit and had to delete some things, or else cough up some money to turn it all .com-y. I didn’t want to do that. So I deleted a whole lot of photos and didn’t realise the mess it was going to make in the appearance of the blog. I saw everything all skewiff and then simply closed the browser and didn’t come back.
I’ve just spent the last little while patching things up and I think we’re all set to go again.
Look at my girls! They are so big now. So the main thing on the list of All Manner of Things to report is that those two girlies are not going to be just two for much longer… we are expecting a number THREE.
As Birdie would say: “Oh Dod.”
We are very excited, full bellied, amazed, happy, and a wee bit frightened… all at once. I have been – somewhat obsessively – following every mother I can find on instagram who has three babies, or is pregnant with number three. Trying to ascertain how it is done. It looks like they are all surviving, so I can only assume that my chances of getting this right are fair to good.
Well that’s a good start, right!
I always wanted a big family, it wasn’t something I thought was optional, it is just inside me somewhere, a longing, an itch. I have to have it. And now it’s here. A full blown mother of three… almost. People react differently when you tell them you’re having your third. A lot of excited-congratulations-great-news, but also a fair amount of eyebrow raising and “was it planned?” It seems that having a third baby is fairly eccentric these days. Who knew! I come from a family of many babies, and people having many babies. I love it.
I don’t know where to start about pregnancy number three. Having just gone through all my old posts to clean up the photo issue, wow, it takes me back! I remember devouring books and websites and everything I possibly could that was pregnancy related when I was pregnant for the first time. I lived and breathed pregnancy. The second time I had hideous morning sickness and an ongoing breech baby which took up a lot of my time and energy and research of a different kind. The third, it has just felt like coming home. I feel like I am in my own body, truly and really and honestly planted here, growing with this tiny babe. I truly believe my body knows what to do: it’s doing it. I didn’t have a lot of morning sickness this time around. It was there, but it took a back seat. I do have some pregnancy books on my bedside table but I haven’t really felt the urge to read any of them yet. I have just been enjoying feeling my way through, remembering and piecing things together from the other two times.
I am monstrously frightened at how big my tummy already is at eighteen weeks. But I’m trying to let go of that.
I sometimes catch myself remembering my breastfeeding woes with my darling Pixie. But I’m trying to let go of that.
I wonder a bit about how we are going to fit in our little two bedroom house. But I’m trying to let go of that.
I find myself eating things that I suddenly remember I’m not meant to eat. But I’m trying to let go of that.
The idea is that number three is our final baby, you see. So no matter what, I am trying to let go of it all and just bundle this short lived experience up, to hang onto it and relish it and remember it and savour it.
I know only too well now how quickly it is all over, and life just ploughs on ahead.