Passing due dates and mother's guilt

Mother’s guilt is a terrible thing.

It strikes when you least expect it and makes you feel awful, usually for situations which are beyond your control.

I have been having full on attacks of it this week when it comes to Arlo.

I am worried about being in hospital and away from him when baby’s born but more than anything I feel bad about not being able to do what I normally would with him while I am heavily pregnant.

Today is my due date. I have reached that magic number of 40 weeks pregnant but this baby is showing no signs of making an entrance into the world any time soon.

I am shattered, I am uncomfortable, I get out of breath walking up and down the stairs, I waddle when I walk and I feel like I have a bowling ball in between my legs.

None of this is conducive to running around after a toddler.

In the last week I have found getting around more difficult, uncomfortable and at times painful as my pelvis feels like it’s splitting in half.

Fortunately, Arlo is at nursery on Monday and Tuesday and Johnny is at home on a Wednesday which means I don’t have to move around too much. But trying to fill our time on a Thursday and Friday is becoming more of a challenge.

I feel terrible keeping him in when the weather’s so nice but a walk to the park and then lifting him in and out of things is not doable at the moment. I also can’t chase after him if he runs off.

This morning my lovely mother-in-law came to the rescue and entertained him at home for an hour before taking him to the park where he picked me daisies and then put them in my pocket when he got home.

Tomorrow, Johnny is working from home so there will be help there if I need it.

But I am finding it incredibly frustrating not being able to do the things I normally would and although I know Arlo’s fine and happy, it doesn’t stop me from feeling guilty about it.

My mental, raging hormones aren’t helping matters either. In the past week I’ve gone from not wanting to get out of bed, to crying, to snappy, and then back to feeling my usual self.

I know this is all completely normal but I am so tired that I just want this baby out now.

Arlo was already nine days old by the time I reached 40 weeks in my first pregnancy and I had kind of set that as a milestone for this baby’s birth.

Now I am into the unknown and part of me is absolutely terrified about what comes next.

I just have to keep everything crossed (apart from my legs) in the hope that she arrives before next Tuesday when I am booked in to see the midwife and the subject of medical intervention is likely to be top of the agenda.

Twelve days and counting......

There are 12 days to go until my due date.

Although if our daughter arrives when her big brother did then I could be having a baby on Tuesday.

I have written my birth plan (although my midwife keeps telling me to call it a wish list) but I’m yet to pack my hospital bag, or a bag for Arlo, and I really don’t feel like I’m prepared for this one’s arrival at all.

What happened to me when Arlo was born has also been playing on my mind a lot.

A couple of weeks ago I had a huge wobble and sobbed all over Johnny telling him how frightened I was of going through the same thing again, and that I was terrified that I might die leaving him and my children behind.

Johnny just held me and told me that he would be with me every step of the way and that he would not leave my side. He is one of the most incredible people I have ever met and I am so lucky to have him as my husband and the father of my children.

The rational part of my brain knows I can’t let feelings like that overwhelm me, but it still niggles away at times.

I’m planning on a vbac (vaginal birth after caesarean) this time round as I really don’t want to have another section, although I know there’s a 25% chance it could happen.

Fortunately, I have remained healthy so far and I’m continuing to have weekly check-ups with the midwife.

I had a bit of a scare over the Easter weekend when my feet and legs swelled up as this was one of the first signs that something was wrong last time. But after taking myself to hospital and being tested for everything I was given the all clear.

Two weeks on I still have massive sausage feet and my shoes are proving difficult to get on but I know as soon as the baby’s born they’ll return to their normal size.

I’ve also been reflecting on how having a new baby around will affect my relationship with Arlo.

I’ve never spent more than one night away from him at a time so the thought of being in hospital for several days after having this one really worries me.

I love my beautiful boy more than I ever thought it was humanly possible to love another person.

This tiny, mewling baby is placed in your arms and even though you know that you will love them, you don’t know them. It’s like bringing a stranger home with you who cannot do anything for themself.

You are entirely responsible for them, you are exhausted from the birth and you have absolutely no idea whether what you are doing is right or wrong.

You don’t sleep, you barely have time to eat or look after yourself and half the time you don’t even get the chance to brush your teeth or even move off the sofa during those first few shell-shocked weeks.

But one day, you look at your tiny little baby and you realise that you have fallen totally and utterly in love with them, and that you would die for them.

Arlo has grown into a kind, caring, mischievous, lovely little boy. I look at him sometimes and still can’t believe he’s half of Johnny and half of me; that we made this amazing little person. I know Johnny feels exactly the same way.

And now another baby is imminent and I have no idea how I could possibly feel that way about two children. But I know that I will.