There’s this thing that has appeared out of nowhere. It’s like a hard lump, solid and right in the middle of my body. I’ve noticed that when I bend down to pick up a fallen tea bag by the bin (always, who else has brown splodge splashes decorating the circumference of the bin floor?) that it’s in the way. It stops me mid bend, mocking me, saying whoa, hang on there a minute, where do you think you’re going – to the floor? Nope, try again sister. And so I do, sideways, like a giraffe lowering itself on an African savannah.
The lump is my bump. My pregnancy bump. The little baby that’s been incubating for the past six months in MY WOMB. It’s just that… well I kind of forgot it was in there. Once I was past the sickness (can’t even deal, don’t want to talk about it) there was a whole lovely phase of energy and feeling great and normal and not gagging when I opened the dishwasher or the bin to fling a tea bag near it.
I showed earlier, there was definitely more bump going on this time thanks to my already elasticated insides. But up until now, it wasn’t getting in the way.
I don’t feel guilty about not paying as much attention to this babog as I did the last one. This is nature. On your first, everything IS a first. The scans, the clothes, the bump, the everything about being pregnant that you’ve never experienced before.
Now I’m dealing with the demands of a toddler as well as the exhaustion of pregnancy. Not only that, but I know what’s ahead of me. It’s not as exciting as before when a whole world of baby squishiness lay ahead. In fact, adding a newborn to our current situation is quite terrifying – and sometimes I find myself drifting in a panic of c-section scars and two hour sleep bursts and squalling infants wondering how we’ll get through it all while still keeping the two year old safe.
Lately though, I’ve been feeling pretty calm. It may be one of those zen pregnancy hormones my brain is producing. ‘Be grand,’ I say waving my hand nonchalantly whenever anyone asks how I’m doing and how we’re going to cope. We don’t have much choice. Of course we’ll cope – we’ll have to. And besides, it’s not like a million other families haven’t done it before. It’s only baby number two. Be grand, right?
We’ve been teaching our daughter about the impending arrival. She fully understands that there’s a baby in Mammy’s tummy, although she insists on saying ‘gone’ whenever you ask where the baby is. Which sometimes scare the bejasus out of me. Does she have a sixth toddler sense?
She’s taken to going ‘aw’ whenever she see a baby on TV or in a magazine and I hope this bodes well for next year. In reality, she’ll probably be saying, ‘aw this is shite’, when she realises she has been completely usurped in a few months time, but that’s a parenting path we’ll have to cross when we come to it. It’ll happen just around the time she’s due to be toilet trained and moved into her own bed. No disruption there then atall.
The name game has begun. This is where the husband and I shout random just thought of baby names at each other while watching a film or flicking through our phones. The joy of not knowing whether we’re expecting a boy or a girl adds to craic. So far nada.
But this is how we’re doing it – any word, any sentence can trigger the name game. Because we went with August for our daughter, we feel obliged to go with something unusual again. And that’s a bit of pressure. How weird is too weird? Will our families give us the ‘you’re not really going to call our beloved grandchild that’ talk again? And will the child grow up to hate us and its dodgy name?
It’s hard to believe that in three and a half months the new splodger will here. Probably hard to believe because I’ve barely given it a minute’s thought until I sat down to write this piece. (What a great Mammy I am).
But we are looking forward to welcoming him or her. I’m looking forward to that first sighting, that amazing moment when you look into the face of the tiny life you’ve created. I’m looking forward to getting to know the person, to learning what he or she is like. Most of all, I’m looking forward to seeing the interaction between our TWO children and giving August a brother or sister. A bigger family. More chaos. More washing. More love.
Bring it on. And end this heartburn.
Thank you my poor little ignored baby bump.
We love you really. We do.