Random ramblings from the Texan in London.

So, we had our first full-body poo this morning. *grin* I ate something in the last day or two (I'm suspecting onion in the pasta sauce) that really screwed with Madam's insides. She's been fussy and clingy for the last 24 hours or so, which saw us downstairs on the couch at 2am this morning so as to allow Himself some sleep. We migrated back upstairs when he left for work around 6am, and only regained consciousness when Herself began to stir around eight. I rolled over to give her a cuddle, only to find that in her nocturnal travels she'd managed to cover her entire front side in poo. We're talking, soaked through two layers of clothing and into the sheet. *lol* This of course led to stripping the baby and the bed, putting the baby in the sink for a bath and the sheets in the wash along with her clothes and a fair amount of stain remover. She was massively unimpressed with the bath, even though I thoughtfully lined it with a towel so her little cheeks wouldn...

Madam has landed. You'll forgive my lack of posts in the last week, we've been a little preoccupied around Chez Gabs. Things didn't go quite as planned. We had hoped for a tranquil water birth, no pain relief except the soothing warmth of the pool... that was before my waters broke and 24 hours passed without major happening. After 24 hours, for those of you not in the know, the risk of infection precludes water birth and I wasn't allowed in. Fair enough, we're flexible, so we adjusted and moved on mentally to a natural non-pool birth, with the addition of a cannula in the back of my left hand to push IV antibiotics (which took three tries and eventually a doctor to insert, but we won't go into detail on that one). That was, of course, until they decided things weren't moving as quickly as they would like, and took advantage of said cannula to drip syntocin into my unsuspecting body. Apparently I'm ridiculously sensitive to syntocin, because not o...

This morning at twenty past three, Himself and I were awoken by a gurgling "hurk, hurk" noise from the foot of the bed. His cat had chosen that opportune moment to sick up in the floor in front of my chest of drawers. Both of us rocketed up out of bed, more out of sheer reflex than a belief that swift movement would change the situation in any way, shape or form. Himself cleaned up the mess (because he loves me, you see), I went to the toilet... again... and we went back to bed. Twenty minutes later, I was suddenly awake, and not quite sure why. Something was weird, and JB was kicking up a storm (like, making a break for it kind of kicking). I stayed there, taking silent and still stock of my surroundings, and then it hit me. I leapt up out of bed as my waters broke, miraculously leaving the bed dry, and simultaneously scaring seven hells out of Himself. I blurted out "my waters have broken", he tossed me a towel, and I got straight on the phone as previously...

It's funny. I've always been backwards. Awkward. Abnormal. Whatever you want to call it. I didn't expect that to extend to pregnancy. All my friends/colleagues/family members have said pretty much the same thing about when they were pregnant. The first few months (at least) were normally ridden with nausea, then things evened out and became... well, pleasant... until the last few weeks. In the last few weeks, the waiting game played havoc with their nerves/patience/fortitude to the point that misery ensued. The swollen hands and ankles, the endless bathroom trips, the constant indigestion, but mostly the incessant wondering as to WHEN THIS TINY HUMAN WILL VACATE MY BODY. I've been the exact opposite. The first four months were definitely rocky with nausea until I figured out it was the dairy making me feel awful, but rather than things settling down I began to deal with the complications brought on by hypermobility. Constant pain isn't really conducive to ...