Blimey, no postings for a month!  That’s what having a baby does to you.   The latest development is kinda scary though…

For two mornings in a row I’ve woken up to her having her top blanket over her face.

This has never, ever happened before – the weird thing is, although I always put her to bed as far down as possible so she can’t wriggle under the covers, she always ends up at the top of the cot in the morning, with her covers kicked off.  Admittedly though, when I saw she’d done it yesterday she looked so adorable as she was gurgling away while kicking quite merrily and when I lifted the blanket off her face I was rewarded with a huge smile.  Last night I made sure they were tucked in really securely but she managed it again this morning, although she was still sleeping when I took the blanket off her face so I had a bigger fright.

I’m going to have to tie those blankets down – better still, secure those wee feet!

That’s what our wee girl is, as confirmed by the health visitor! My great granny used to say that babies become more advanced with each new generation, but it’s still so surprising how quickly our wee one is coming along. She’s two and a half weeks old and already she’s lifting her head and moving it about well, in addition to the constant wriggling and iron grip in her hands. For a newborn she’s not all that keen on sleeping for most of the day either – she’d rather lie there gazing at things, and the health visitor today swore that she was focussing already!

Coming from a large family I have a lot of experience with babies and I really haven’t seen anything like it. I had a feeling through my pregnancy that she’d be a clever one and from what we’ve seen so far I think that gut feeling is totally justified

Well, it’s all over – I’m now the proud mother of an extremely beautiful ickle baby girl!

She was two days overdue, which isn’t really a big deal for a first baby, and had to be delivered by Caesarean section but when I look into those beautiful brown eyes of hers I think about my 24 hours of labour and forget all that pain instantly. It’s hard not to go into all the usual emo guff people like to trot out at these times but being a parent really is something else. People have made the usual jokes about how we will have to give up so many of the things we enjoy and take for granted but strangely enough it really doesn’t bother me.  And anyway, I come from a huge family so there’s always going to be a babysitter if I do fancy a night of drunken debauchery!

The thought that we are now responsible for a whole new life is such a strange feeling and it’s hard to put it into words, but at the same time it’s really exciting.  I’m really looking forward to being a mummy!

Well, today’s the day – yikes!

No sign of the little darling making an appearance yet, other than the occasional dodgy twinge and a feeling of being extremely heavy at the front. I have an appointment with the midwife later today who is going to do something called a membrane sweep, which sounds disgusting but is apparently just like a smear test. I can’t stand smear tests either! I just hope that this sweep works because I really don’t fancy being induced – an induction also means a wait of at least 10 days, although there is always the chance I could still go into labour naturally. My sister reckons I’ll go into labour tonight and have the baby early tomorrow morning (00:02 to be precise!) so here’s hoping she’s right!

*cue Joey Tempest and co.*

Less than a fortnight to go now, blimey! The little bugger’s being unco-operative as usual and has turned into the posterior position, which means that its back is at my back and it hasn’t ‘engaged’ yet (this is when the baby’s head enters the pelvis ready for birth). Had to go back to the physio to get my pelvis cricked back into position too; one side being higher than the other does not a good pelvis for childbirth make. However, I’m having fun trying out the different methods of getting the babby to turn round into the right position – curries, long hot baths (ruins your books though when you go to turn a page and realise your hand’s soaking), ’snuggling’ etc. The one I haven’t tried though is where you basically get down on all fours and rest there to let gravity do its bit – nobody but EV would see me doing that but even so it just doesn’t sound right…!

38 weeks pregnant and I’ve had enough now – will you come out now please!  This may sound strange but I reckon I’ll get a better sleep when the baby actually drops – every two hours, without fail, I have to get up for a wee even if I haven’t drank anything for hours; in addition to that there’s the whole procedure of trying to get back into a comfy position without disturbing my other half too much, bless him.

There’s also the fact that I’d really like to hit the shops and get some of the lovely new clothes that have arrived and I wouldn’t say no to a nice cool glass of wine either!  I’m now so huge I can hardly balance anything bigger than a bowl on my knees and my maternity clothes are starting to get a bit tight on me, which is reckon are really good signs that it’s about time the bairn made its entrance – my belly has more stripes than Tony the Tiger so letting it all hang out ain’t exactly the most attractive option…

After speaking with a manager about the form in the previous post, it turns out that it could be fraudulent that my midwife hasn’t ticked the box.  Oh, and she filled it out with blue pen when the rest of the form is in black.  So that obviously means it’s a fraudulent claim…

/sarcasm

I’m really starting to wonder if you have to take a Stupid Test when you apply to work for the DWP?  Now I have to fill out yet another form, which will contain exactly the same details.  Luckily I’m seeing my midwife tomorrow so I can tell her how she’s broken the law or some other pile of shite.  I reckon they make it up as they go along, I really do.

Just when things were starting to pick up a little chez Fords, I’m sitting here trying my hardest not to cry out of pure frustration.

As our financial situation isn’t all that fantastic at the moment, I was advised by my midwife that I am eligible for a maternity grant from the government, which means I fill out a form, she signs it, I send it off and I get £500 for the baby.  So far so good.

I sent the form off just before Christmas and got a letter back, saying that I don’t qualify because I didn’t include some certificate.  News to me.  So I phone them up asking them what that means, only to be told that on the page where the midwife signs there is a box she should have ticked, confirming that she has given me health advice.  I point out that well dur, of course she bloody has – she’s my friggin midwife!! I then asked the woman to add this to the application, seeing as it’s such a minor detail, but she insists that I must fill out yet another form.  I point out that in the letter I have I can confirm on the phone any minor adjustments to the application but she’s having none of it.

Now, for the sake of one stupid tickbox that I could have ticked myself (or someone at the DWP for that matter) I have to fill out yet another form and wait even longer for money that I am legally entitled to.  How do I explain to a newborn that because the Department for Work and Pensions is such a fuckup of a government department Mummy and Daddy can’t afford to buy it anything?

I don’t care if there are people hanging around this blog I’d rather not have. Why should I give up something I enjoy for them? Exactly.

But I am pissed off all the same. At the ripe old age of 26 I am fast becoming an Angry Young Woman -if something nice happens to us I will fall over in amazement and probably go into labour on the spot, that’s how good things are.

I just don’t understand why in Britain everything seems to be so fucking difficult! For example, the house we are renting at the moment is far too small for us as it is and there’s bugger all room for the baby, but we have to wait until it’s born before we can be classed as overcrowded. I enquired as to where we might even put the pram, explaining that we have just about enough room for a crib indoors (I have no idea where the bairn’s clothes are going to go either) and that we’re not allowed to keep anything in the close – downstairs is not our part of the property and putting anything on the landing is a fire/trip hazard. Anyway, the recycling boxes are there. And of course, once the bairn’s born we’ll probably have to wait months before we are offered anything that isn’t some shitty ned-infested place. As for going private? Forget it! As soon as I mention I’m not working (and for valid reasons as some of you already know) potential landlords run a mile. Why is it that people nowadays assume that if you are a council tenant you are scum? And conveniently forget that they could only ever afford to buy their house because they were council tenants too?

This is supposed to be the happiest time of our lives, but instead of having lots of fun decorating a nursery and spending far too much money in Mothercare we are vainly trying to clear a little space for a total innocent.

I suppose I could clear out a drawer and put the bairn in that, or put it in one of those storage boxes that fit under the bed…