Less that two weeks to go and finally her head has settled in the downwards position. In the post, so to speak. Preparing to make her appearance. I guess this is what they call the ‘drop’. The baby has shifted to my lower regions, nestling comfortably on my bladder. Over the last couple of weeks I’ve been experiencing tightening Braxon Hicks ‘contractions’ on an adhoc basis, most noticeably in the supermarket mid-shop last week, which then lasted for the rest of the evening bringing nausea as a companion. However, no major side-effects that I’ve not experienced before. Heartburn is not so intense now. Happy days!
I continue with my light exercise Mon-Fri mornings, including my Body Balance classes. These are so good for stretching and balance. No matter how run down, tired or ‘out of sorts’ I feel before a class, I feel great by the end of each session. For me, fitness has always been part of my life and I’m determined to keep it up to the (messy?) end 🙂 of my pregnancy. No doubt to the concerned looks of my fellow exercisers!
The thing is, I’m supposed to be taking a daily ‘baby’ Aspirin to reduce the possibility of clots and pre-eclampsia, so this is my way of keeping the circulation moving! Whenever I took an aspirin tablet in the past I had nose bleeds early morning which I’ve never had before, so, to me, aspirin is not required. My blood pressure is excellent and no swelling on feet or hands.
Running around after 3 children (11, 8 & 7) is also a good way of keeping active! The food doesn’t shop for itself, neither does the washing, ironing or housework kindly arrange to be completed without manual intervention! Kids clubs and hobbies continue as usual and my husband and I are often going in opposite directions to deposit a keen swimmer, footballer or dancer at their chosen clubs!
Anyway, life will change forever shortly. And the little kicks on my right hand side below my ribs remind me it won’t be long now.
Hope, visualisation, sheer determination or foolhardiness
I didn’t give up hope of having my own child. I knew it would happen. I’m very optimistic , spiritual and stubborn (the taurean in me), so I knew it would …. one day.
Despite the years fleeting by, the failed fertility interventions, the frustrating holistic therapies which didn’t seem to work but may have helped in the long term (we live in a ‘want it right now’ society and are disappointed when we don’t get it handed to us on a plate), messages from beyond the grave (yes, my Dad advised, through a recommended medium I saw a couple of months after he passed nearly 8 years ago, that I would have a birth child), I played the long, waiting game. Because I had to.
As I write this, I feel her little kicks inside of me. I know she is there. She tells me. The hospital scans tell me. The 6 months of nausea shouted it at me. The indigestion and heartburn now scream it at me. But it still feels surreal.
She is due to arrive next month. I’m told my bump is petite – although it feels like a hard beach ball ensconced under my rib-cage – and growing nicely, keeping within the right parameters set out by the NHS.
So, I’m really pregnant and expecting a baby girl. Who would have thought it. Certainly not my friends, colleagues or neighbours. Even my hubby was taken aback. And to be honest, I didn’t really expect our agreed final attempt at IVF to work back in the summer, when I had come so close (positive pregnancy results!) only to fail in the past.
So this is the start of a new chapter in my story…fit, fabulous, fifty and with child.
Observations of life as a first time, full term pregnant 50- something, fit, fab, femme!
Little Kicks Inside
Well, as humans, we like to share our views and ideas with others and we also have a natural curiosity to know how others live their lives…..social media allows us to dip in and out of others’ realities looking for inspiration, advice, hope or just a good chuckle! My blog is now ‘out there’ sent with my good intentions to do just that …… inform, amuse and/or horrify (if you are of that disposition) of the realities of having my first bundle of joy at the ripe old-ish age of 50. Whilst juggling life, of course.