My first week of lectures has arrived. Theo Prana and I have been in the UK for almost 3 weeks now and my gosh this has been a change.

We flew over with my dad, who is currently here with me to help me settle in, and travelled to my grandparents so they could meet baby. This was sometime special because he is their first great grandson, joining 2 great granddaughters and I really wanted them to meet him. I am a fair distance away so don’t know when we will have that opportunity again.

Once back in Portsmouth we tried to sort ourselves out and I decided to dig out my Gina Ford book and have a look at it again. Before he arrived, I didn’t think that I could have such a regimented routine with Theo Prana, but actually when I used it as a guideline, it seemed to work quite well. Unfortunately, between Freshers Fayre, his first round of vaccinations and a (very welcome and happy) visit from his dad, Theo has been thrown out of wack a little and we are back to square 1. Earlier this week I could see that he was very confused and not the happy baby that I know he usually is for a few days, but we are working on it and I am hoping that he will settle soon. Thanks to my dad, I am staying fairly calm, and having him around has made a huge difference.

The first time Theo Prana cried for more than 10 minutes was in Gibraltar and I cried and cried too. I felt terrible, and didn’t have a clue what was wrong or how to settle him. Now, 4 weeks later, I am a lot more calm with him and know that eventually we will figure it out. It was only this weekend, after his vaccinations that I cried again because he wouldn’t settle and I felt like it was my fault. I didn’t know what was wrong or how to make it better… but I kept repeating “This Too Shall Pass” and even though the minutes felt like hours and the hours felt like days, it did pass, and he was fine.

We have definitely had some tough moments since he was born, and more so since being in the UK because I was on my own for a week before my dad flew back. Regardless, we have had some wonderful moments too; we had our first day of uni together, H got to give him his night feed, and this week we went to a mum and baby yoga class. Theo Prana is generally a very good and happy baby – I feel blessed and I am sure that the yoga and Kirtan has made a big difference.

Honestly the weekend with H was a mixture of emotions – we had to get used to being together again, and then as things started to feel normal, we were once again saying goodbye. I was nervous about seeing him after 7 weeks, and I was nervous about how Theo would react to him but they got really well and I fell more in love with H as I watched him with our son. Hopefully, he will be able to come down again soon so that he can have some more bonding time with Theo and also because I do miss him terribly. I don’t have a problem being on my own, and sometimes it’s easier because I just get on with everything but I do wish that he could have more time with us and I am looking forward to moving in with him and being a ‘proper’ family once I graduate.

Speaking of graduating, I knew it would be but my gosh university is going to be a major challenge! On many levels I am worried about how we will cope but even more than that I am determined to do it. My days usually start at 06:15, I meditate and if I can, express before feeding Theo, or if not, express after he is done. Then we have our days full of feeding, play, poop and sleep, and I hit the sack around 11pm. That said, recently we have had some lie in mornings until 07:30 and then I feel guilty for not starting the day properly but remind myself that my body is still recovering and I need rest too.

I do not want to fall into the trap of wanting to ‘bounce back’ because really, having a baby is no small feat. I know that women have done it for centuries and of course it is a natural process but it is also a big trauma for the body, and I want to make sure to nourish and love my body and mind, nomatter how hard that seems some days. Luckily, I have a good support system and my grounding in yoga does, I think make a huge difference in this.

My support system includes not only my family in Gibraltar but my in-laws too, and my yogi family, and friends here at university. I have my dad helping me at the moment and my housemates have been really great, plus a few of the guys on my course who check in with us regularly and are just genuinely really lovely people. The girl I live with, Rhi, has basically adopted Theo Prana and she has been dubbed Aunty Rhi. She has been a lifeline at points and I am truly grateful to be living with her this year. The boy, Dailen, though not a massive fan of my little miracle has been patient and provides great adult conversations and cups of tea. It seems weird that they are such a big part of life at the moment but in a years time I will live in a different house, on the other side of the country, living a very different life with my family.

Overall, I know that there is going to be some really hard moments over the next few months, and I know that there will be tears, but also that there will be lots of love, laughter and smiles. I keep this knowledge with me, and know that the hard times will pass. At the end of the day, I want to give Theo Prana the best possible, and I can only do that by taking care of myself as well. We will manage, and he will thrive, and when we graduate in July, it will have definitely been worth it.

I wrote about my birth story as quickly as possible, and now, 15 days postpartum, I want to document as much of this as possible too!

I can’t quite believe that the last 2 weeks have happened; even living through it, the experience feels like a dream. My post about my labour ended after the I was given a recovery room, and so I’ll pick up from just before. The photos are of me in the labour room… looking completely washed out, and feeling much the same.

Just before 6am, after H had made me some toast, the midwives came in and asked if I was ready to move. I felt panicky, because I had a catheter in and my legs were stiff; the last thing in the world I wanted to was stand up and walk. Mum told H to go make me a tea, and when he left I consented to getting up. I had not been at all embarrassed or awkward throughout my labour, but I didn’t like the idea of H seeing me so weak. They brought a wheelchair in and coaxed me out of bed which honestly was more painful than any contraction I had experienced!

Once standing, I had the task of sitting in the chair; I ended up only half sitting and being taken to my room. With some difficulty I managed to get into the bed. Looking around the baby wasn’t there – he was still in the corridor with the other midwife; I got a bit panicked again but they brought him in and despite all the pain and exhaustion, I felt better.

Over the next hour I had more toast and got H to remake the tea as it was much too strong! I began to pep up a bit and started doing the rounds of telling people that Theo had arrived at last. Mum and H had done most of it for me, but there were some people I wanted to tell specifically. Mum left to get ready for work around 7:30 and I told H to nap – he was exhausted and I couldn’t sleep but I knew about an hour later I’d need to crash. It was quite cold in the recovery room so H covered himself with Theo’s blanket – not the best idea because baby couldn’t use it until after it got washed but oh well. The midwives came in a couple times to check on us, and then Mum brought my Grandma in at 9 am.

After that, I’m pretty sure I slept for a few hours. My Dad and brother visited… and Mum kept popping in. H did everything for me, including feed me lunch because I had both cannula’s still in and I was being given 3 units of blood. Every time baby needed a feed, someone had to prop him up and position him for me so he could latch – I felt entirely useless, and even though I wasn’t crying, I could feel myself sinking lower and lower. Being told at some point in the day that the haematoma would take around 6 weeks to resolve itself (and being given ice-packs to help the swelling; which really stung as well) did not help matters.

I had the catheter in all day and the next night too. They encouraged me to walk and after the blood transfusion had finished Mum helped me shower. I remember her using the soap sponges and washing the blood off my legs and then helping me dry. It was the first time I had really been able to see the swelling and it made me cringe. I wasn’t really able to move but rather had to slide my feet along the floor because lifting them was too painful – I was shuffling in a half squat because the swelling meant I couldn’t bring my legs together. The midwives told me all this was normal, so when they offered pain relief, I refused it – if I was going to be like this for almost 2 months, and I wanted to breastfeed, I did not want to be drugged up the entire time. Looking back now, it feels like a lifetime ago; I can’t quite believe the transformation.

The next morning (Friday) they took the catheter out which made things slightly better. Without the cannulas in as well it meant that I could hold Theo as long as he was given to me and then taken back to his crib. H still did pretty much everything but I tried my best to stay positive and avoided thinking about more than 1 day into the future. Obviously this wasn’t practical but it was the only thing that kept me going. The midwife told us that Theo looked a bit jaundiced so asked me to express some milk in case we needed to top up his supply because he wasn’t feeding enough – this was not what I wanted to do because my plan has been from the beginning to only breastfeed him for at least the first month and then I would consider bottles of expressed milk. The machine I had to use was extremely painful; I would compare it to a painful nipple twist being repeated over 15 minutes. They did light test after a few hours again and told me that even though he looked a bit yellow still, it was nothing to worry about, so the colostrum stayed in the fridge. I ended up requesting to use it on Sunday evening because I thought I’d go home the day later; we fed it to him with a syringe at 3 am but it wasn’t enough so I ended up feeding him for another hour anyway.

The weekend came and went, and I had some visitors – I stayed in bed, or shuffled slightly because I didn’t want to let on how bad things really were. H wheeled me into the day room once, so that I didn’t have to walk and sit down again… and I asked my parents to buy me a doughnut pillow to make things a little easier, as well as Arnica 30 which was recommended to bring down the inflammation. When people were around it was easy to be positive, everyone was excited by Theo and it was wonderful to watch and listen to them talk about this tiny human that H and I had created. It didn’t feel (and still doesn’t) that it was possible for me to have had him tucked away inside me for so long.

By Sunday, my baby blues hit. I was worried about coping at home and asked to stay an extra day. My midwife was great, and we talked about her son and things I wanted to learn or was unsure about. She never forced her opinions on me, but she was frank, she gave me the medical opinion, the alternative opinion and then her opinion as well. It was the first time I had spoken about Theo’s future since being pregnant. That evening I had my daily bath with lavender oil and milk; it was meant to help reduce the swelling, and lessen the pain a little. I used Theo’s crib as a support system as I walked to the bath and whilst in it, the concoction worked. The room was quite cold though so H took Theo back and I dried off and started to make my way back to my room – I got about halfway and I was in tears. H by this point had come out to see why I was taking so long and helped me back into the room – this time, I caved and asked for pain relief. It felt like instead of getting better, I was getting worse.

And I was right. On Monday morning, my midwife asked the consultant to sign off on my discharge and have a look at the swelling. At first she said there was nothing the be done, but on a second look, she saw I had developed an infection over the weekend and my body had tried to expel it. There was now an opening and so she said I was to undergo general anaesthetic and have it drained.

This was the worst day. 

Despite the pain and the discomfort, I had been “dealing” with it, but general anaesthetic was synonymous with poison for me. The few times I have been under it before, I have reacted very badly, and this was no different. I whatsapped my Mum and H saying that I wasn’t going home and that I had to go into theatre later in the day. Mum called immediately and told me she would come see me as soon as possible, and H arrived a little later. I was already hyperventilating by the time mum arrived and she took a long time to calm me down. Looking back, this was the lowest of lows for me.

I’d had breakfast so I had to fast and they said they’d take me in around 5 pm… it ended up being 2:30 pm which was good because it meant Mum and H had more time with me after – not necessarily great for them but much needed for me because I was a mess. I expressed some milk (by hand, the machine was much too painful) in case I wasn’t able to feed him due to being groggy, and it’s a good thing I did because the cannula in my hand meant I couldn’t hold him. The doctor I had was lovely, and very reassuring, though even still, as I got wheeled to the theatre room I took a picture of Sri Swami Satchidananda and was chanting my mantras the whole way.

Coming out of the anesthetic was even worse than going under. I react so badly that for over an hour I was dizzy, nauseous and a sobbing mess. Not the most attractive I’ve been but an unfortunate reality. At this time, H held my hand a lot but my Mum was the only one who could calm me. It was probably good for H to see me like that, but it was not something I ever wanted him to see.

Mum made me a few very very sweet teas and the midwife made me stand up and go pee. I was amazed – I could actually stand and I wasn’t 4 inches shorter than I should have been. Even better, I could almost bring my legs together entirely! Once the drugs had worn off, barring the fact I was to be on super strong antibiotics, I was like a new person; or rather, I was like myself again rather than the girl I had become. I didn’t have a bath that evening and I requested that they take the cannula out so that I would be able to hold Theo properly – this probably was a good thing for them too because they had 3 births that night so were kept very busy; the last thing they’d have wanted was to be called by me every time Theo needed a feed or change, and I wanted to be able to do it independently.

By morning I felt amazing. He woke up early and I spent the morning walking around and rocking him. I hadn’t imagined being able to do that for months. I was still sleep deprived and I probably should have slept a little during the morning but I couldn’t – I was too excited at the fact I’d pacified my baby by walking around with him in my arms!
I showered, put a little bit of make up on and put on my going home outfit as soon as the Dr came in and gave me the all clear. This was an interesting experience in itself; I had a different Dr from the one who did the surgery and he had a little bit less of a gentle touch. He examined me, and took out the packing that had been left to help soak up the blood, telling me that the wound would heal on its own now, and that I should only wash down there with warm water and no soap. He then proceeded to tell me his advice would be not to put a mirror down there to see what the damage was because it was really quite horrible. At the time, I was rather taken back by this, but now I just think it is such a funny thing for him to have said.

H arrived soon after I had got ready, wheeling in the pram, and he was amazed to see the difference in me; I told him all about my night and morning and that there were 3 new babies. Then the midwife I had that day came in and gave him the Vitamin K, showing me how to do so because the last dose will be at home, and then came the heel prick test. This was torture for me – he cried so much and all we wanted to was cuddle and comfort him. It took forever as well but finally H was able to give him to me and I put him on my breast to calm down. We went into the dayroom and met 2 of the new mums, I had my lunch and took my antibiotic while Mum spoke to the sister of the ward about my experience – apparently she had only seen 3 cases like mine in her 30 years of working in midwifery.

Finally we were ready to go. I had been allowed to leave on the condition of coming back the next day to be checked again, but that was worth it to go home. It was a hard walk, and the pram was very much needed as a support system for me, but being outside, being able to walk home with my baby, and most of all, being able to go home before H left back to the UK.

The 5 days were some of the most difficult of my life so far, and now 3 weeks later I don’t feel like it really happened to me. It’s like remembering a good dream turned bad. But every time I look at Theo, even when he’s been up for 12 hours straight or won’t let me put him down, I would do it all again. He is thriving and I fall more in love every day.

I am 8 days post-partum but this is going to take a while to write- I want to document my birth story as fully as I can … first though, Theodore is crying so I need to go see him.

Back!

H arrived a week before my due date – and I gave birth at 40 weeks and 2 days, 2 days overdue and desperate to have the baby – not because of the pregnancy being a hassle; I think I had a fantastic pregnancy, but rather because we could see the days going by and I wanted to maximise the bonding time H had with his son.

We tried pretty much every natural method we thought safe to encourage – NOT to induce – labour… and for a while sex seemed to do the trick. I had contractions for several hours after sex, and drank a lot of cinnamon tea, but it didn’t really have the full effect. By this I mean, I had contractions for about 6 hours, small ones, and then they would disappear; it happened 3 times! By my midwife appointment on the 26th, I had resolved to ask for a sweep and see if that would work, because if not it felt like H would be saying goodbye to me and my big belly, and would have to wait at least 2 months to meet his baby.

Luckily, I was 1cm dialated when the sweep was performed, and less than 24 hours later Theodore Prana was born. He was and is a healthy, happy little boy, absolute perfection in our eyes, and this is my experience of his birth:

We went in to the hospital with my resolve to ask for a sweep, but with H also knowing if it didn’t work, I did not want to go further and ask for an induction. As much as possible, I wanted a natural experience, but by the 26th, I felt like I needed to have this baby out of me, and I wanted so much for H to be there. Thinking about it, maybe my labour would have started anyway, but I am glad I pushed and got the sweep, it meant that we got a whole week as a family before H had to say goodbye.

Once there, the midwife did a vaginal examination and told me I was 1cm so she agreed to perform the sweep – but did warn us that really this procedure was not done until 41 weeks most times so we were asking for it against normal recommendations. It was uncomfortable but not painful… the amount of blood shocked me a little bit, but she said it was normal and that unless I had bleeding heavier than a period or contractions coming regularly, or my waters broke, I should just ride it out. So we went home, and then decided that because it was still early, we would take a walk to the beach.

By the walk home I had some twinges but I didn’t want to get H’s hopes up again so I did my best to be discreet and just be aware of them without making any sort of faces. This was around 11 am. It worked until we got home and then a few hours later they hit properly. I remember telling mum that this was it – the contractions were making me want to cry so I was hiding in my room with H and napping in between each wave – they were about 10 minutes apart so I managed quite a few hours rest and every time one came, I would wake up, be on all fours and just breathe as much as I could.

I have never been more thankful for doing my prenatal teacher training as I was during my labour. The only thing I wasn’t prepared for was the nausea. Before being on the pill I would get extreme nausea during my periods, and this was exactly what happened, so anything I tried to eat, I would bring back up – not a pleasant experience.
We started my labour playlist of mantra’s around 4 pm and H let me squeeze his hand to distract from the pain. Mum gave me a mini massage on my lower back (H tried but his hands are bigger and heavier than mums… plus I wanted him next to me, even just being able to see him and hold his hand made such a big difference to my mental state). In between contractions I did some crochet, though that didn’t really happen for long. All of this worked really well until at 7 pm I went to the toilet and saw blood, more than I had expected.

We decided that to be safe, we’d take a trip to the hospital, so with me walking slowly, we made our way. On the slope in my estate I had to stop and throw up, which awkwardly was when we met a family friend… but she was quite relaxed and wished me luck and we carried on. In hospital they told me I was 3 cm dilated so to go home, but they gave me an anti-nausea injection which helped bucket loads! That said, I did ask Mum to get my Dad to bring the car round because walking home did not seem like an option by that point – my contractions were 4 minutes apart, and even though I knew my cervix was still relatively closed, it did not feel like it.

By this point I was in pain but still feeling quite controlled. I was worried about H and how he was handling things but at the same time I kept trying to concentrate on what baby was trying to tell my body. I really didn’t want to use pain relief or as little of it as possible so I was quiet and though aware of the other people, I am pretty sure I ignored them most of the time. This is probably partially why H told me he felt useless afterwards but I know that if he hadn’t been there I would never have been so calm. I know I made lots of faces, and I wanted to cry a lot, but at the same time, I was aware that my body was doing exactly what it should and that at the end of it all, I would be glad of all the hard work.

The car ride was awful – or so I thought until later.

At home I took 2 paracetamols and stayed in my room. Mum soaked a cloth and put some lavender oil on it and this stayed with us until I needed to push hours later.
Lying down was not comfortable so I was on my knees for most of the time. Even standing and squatting didn’t really seem to have much of an impact on the pain. H was a gem through it all… though at one point I think I kicked him out because I didn’t want to squeeze his hand anymore and he was making me nervous. I wanted him to have a good experience of my labour, but I wanted to not have to worry about how he felt either.

By around 10:30 pm I decided I couldn’t take any more without some stronger pain relief. Again we journeyed to the hospital and this time, the car ride genuinely felt like torture. Sitting was so uncomfortable!

Thankfully, when we got to the hospital they told me I was 7 cm dilated. I had the option of stronger pain relief or a bath with gas & air.
I chose the bath… and though I absolute hate feeling drunk, the gas & air proved to be just enough for me to get to almost 9 cm before coming out of the bath and going into the labour room.

The labour room is a little bit of a blur. I remember getting onto the bed and being on my knees. I was still using gas and air and I tried holding the metal at the back of the bed, but preferred H’s hand because it meant I had some contact with him. I don’t remember thinking very much at this point, apart from when I needed to breath and I could hear H and mum telling me to do so. I know that I used the lavender cloth to cool down at points, and that mum gave me a massage too.

The midwife I had was wonderful! She came in repeatedly to check on us but mostly just left us to ourselves. I do remember thinking as the contractions got longer and with less breaks that I was crazy not to have taken more pain relief but looking back I am grateful that I avoided it. I do remember being told that I could do small pushes in between contracts if I felt it helped, and thinking that the only thing it would result in was me passing stool – which it did, but it also helped push baby a little.
When that happened mum said not to be embarrassed but all I could think was, why on earth would I be embarrassed, I’ve had multiple people stare and prod at my nether regions today, everyone in the room can handle a little bit of poop!

Unfortunately, the amount of people who were going to stare and poke me down there was only going to increase… but we’re not quite at that part yet.

When she checked me next she told me I was 9.5 cm dilated, and by then I had told her I needed to push. She told me to wait and after being at 10 cm for a while, I asked her to break my waters because I was running out of energy and didn’t know how much more I could handle. I was so tired.
This is where I regret not taking any anti-nausea medication earlier, because if I had, maybe I would have been able to hold off a little. Still, she broke the waters and then I was allowed to push.

Finally!

The pushing took about an hour. I switched from my knees to my back twice, finally giving birth on my knees. I think generally they prefer you to give birth on your back, but he kept ‘turtling’ so I needed the help of gravity. Every push he would poke his head out and then burrow back in. H and mum kept me going, encouraging me and telling me I was almost there. H saw me crowning which was brilliant, and I wish I had been allowed to video it so I could have watched it back.

At one point near the end, when I was on my back, they said I was almost there and I wanted to tell them to stop lying. I felt like if it didn’t happen soon they were going to have to cut the baby out because I couldn’t push any harder. But the pushing didn’t hurt. It felt natural. My body knew exactly what to do when I stopped thinking and let it.

I know H at this point was flitting from watching the baby to holding my hand, but when I turned onto my knees I think he walked back a bit. I can’t quite remember what anyone else was doing, I just remember feeling Theo’s head inch further out and then retract. The midwife, said that once the head was out there would be some stinging, and oh my gosh there was, but she guided me through every mini-push and once his shoulders were through, the baby just slipped out. I turned back onto my front and Theo was put onto my chest. We opted for delayed cord clamping so H cut the cord after a few minutes and Mum took some photos.

Then baby was taken away and they pulled out my placenta. This is where things got scary.

I remember the placenta being pulled and it hurting a lot!
I remember looking at H with the baby and feeling exhausted but wonderful.
I remember him picking an outfit that said ‘Flying High’ and joking that the gas and air made it a fitting baby grow.

And then, I remember them pushing against my stomach and feeling the blood spurt out of me.
I remember feeling sleepy, and I remember looks of panic.
Mum switched to speaking Spanish and kept saying the word theatre.
H told me I wasn’t allowed to sleep – he looked really scared and I could feel the energy draining away from me.
I had a cannula inserted into each arm, and every time the midwife pressed my belly, more blood would spill out. I was at this point in a panic. They called the consultant in, and I kept hearing the word “theatre”, nobody had checked to see if Theo was okay, so H and mum were with him, and I felt useless. I wanted to be able to hold my baby and all I could do was lie there and fall in and out of consciousness.

The consultant came in and ordered 3 units of blood.
She had a little fight about her suture kit and then told me she was going to sew me up. Apparently it was the tear that had caused all the blood, not my uterus which is what the midwives had thought. Whilst she did that though, I remember her criticising my mantra’s as I tried to sing along to them; but they gave me some comfort and at least by then I knew I wasn’t going to bleed out.

I saw H’s face, and remember him saying “never again” and all I could think was that you hear horror stories of babies being fine but labour being too traumatic for mum’s to handle. I was scared that he wouldn’t be able to handle whatever came next, and I was scared that I wouldn’t be able to do anything for my baby. Even writing all of this down brings up that emotion and I am crying. My perfect labour ended so traumatically and I kept wondering what I had done wrong. I looked over at Theo, and told H to take lots of pictures. I didn’t want to miss the first few hours of his life, even if I would have to catch up on them after.

Once the consultant finished she said I had a hematoma that would have to resolve itself. I vaguely remember mum comparing my vagina lip to the size of a pineapple, which she later corrected me and told me she’d said apple. I was scared to move, but 3 hours after Theo was born, after H made me eat some toast, I painfully shuffled off the bed into a wheelchair and got taken to a recovery room which would become my home for almost a week.

My birth experience was wonderful, but the immediate after was awful and the days after left me depressed; though I didn’t realise it at the time. Now, 12 days postpartum I am like a new person, but my postpartum experience is something I will have to write about later.

For now, I am signing off on this story. Every pregnancy, labour and birth story will be different, and I am sure that in the future, if and when we decide to have another baby my experience will shift entirely, but this is what I know for now – labour is portrayed as a big scary thing, but actually it doesn’t have to be. Of course, sometimes things go wrong, but when people ask about my labour I have told them it was brilliant; for me the hard bit came after.
That said, I am loving motherhood, and I am lucky enough to have a lot of help. I look at Theodore and I know that even with all the scary bits, I would do it all again.

Dear my Theo Prana,

You are 12 days old as I sit to type this. I have spent time staring at you and decided that maybe there is a small window of opportunity to try and write to you. It is easier to do this than write about your birth.

My gosh darling how much you have grown in these last days. I wish your dad was here to see it because even since he left you have developed so much. The days are a blur, meshing together as you cry, and feed and sleep.
It’s so hot here and I know you are uncomfortable, I wish I could take that away and make you feel better but please know I am doing my best for you. Every day you change your pattern and I am trying to adjust, you don’t know it know, but maybe if and when you have children of your own you’ll understand the work a baby is. I knew that my life would change but I hadn’t quite realised how much you would affect me.

Your Granny and Grandpa are amazing. We are still living with them, and we have exactly 5 weeks left here before travelling back to the UK for me to finish studying. The whole family have been wonderful, even after you threw up in Big Nani’s mouth, and despite Uncle Paul thinking you are a little boring because you sleep a lot – without them all, I know that having you would have been so very much more difficult. They are looking after us really well so that me and you have as much time together and I can focus entirely on you.

Sometimes I get sad because you don’t seem to settle with me. A few times the only person you will quieten for is your Granny but I think that that’s because of her calming energy. I hope that some of it rubs off on me before we go, because I don’t like seeing you so upset and it’s hard when I can’t make you feel better.

Still my darling, one day you’ll all the pictures and read all about your life – as much as I am able to document – and you will see how precious you are. You have the sweetest half smile, and a face like an old man, when you are fully fed you stick out your tongue slightly and have very full lips, and when you are alert you make an O shape with your mouth and look pensive. I could watch you for hours like this, with the expressions on your face changing. Sleeping away in your cot next to me you look like the most peaceful child and I hope that you can carry that through life. I want you to have peace, and joy, love and light in your life always.

Lots of love,
Mummy xxx

My hubby arrived!

Last Saturday I had a really weird night with cramps and back pain and a really bad need to go to the toilet – and all I could think was “please let this not be it… please let me last until Tuesday”.

I managed to make it – and now it’s Friday and I am still very pregnant.
That said, we’ve had a few questionable situations since then where I’ve wondered if maybe this was the start of labour, and been confused and disappointed when it wasn’t.

Tuesday my hubby arrived in the evening and was very glad to see me and bump still attached – it meant we got to spend the night snuggling (ish – it’s very hot here!) and be a couple.

Wednesday morning, I was up at 04:37 and spent an hour trying to go back to sleep – eventually I gave up and woke H up instead. We made love for the first time in months and it was wonderful to have the opportunity to be close physically like that again.
Afterwards … from about half six in the morning I started having contractions – not very strong ones but definitely noticeable … when this went on for a while I started timing them. All morning they kept going – we went for a walk, and they got stronger … and then we sat down for lunch and they stopped …. and disappeared.

It was SO frustrating!

But we went to Satsang, and we spent time together and have been trying to just enjoy our couple time instead… I do want to make the most of having him here after all.

Thursday I had some back pain and cramps in the evening but nothing major – the whole day was quite confusing though because after the possibility of labour, I have almost been just waiting for it without doing much else. We spent the day just being together and I had my second session of intravenous iron (I am very low so they are giving me a big boost) which probably contributed to my being tired and wanting a chilled day to be fair. Nonetheless, baby was super active, though he showed no real signs of vacating my belly.

Now it’s Friday – and it’s been almost a repeat of Tuesday except with more painful cramps and contractions but a lot further apart during the day. I have spend the day doing lots of walking and back stretches, lots of hip rotations and we went swimming too. We made love this morning, and I have been drinking cinnamon tea… mum also gave me a massage earlier with the hopes of helping things along.

I don’t want to chase the idea of labour and I am in 2 minds at the moment about it… on the one hand it’s something I am quite anxious about and want to happen – I am curious and excited and want to have the experience – plus I really want H to have as much time possible with baby before he leaves again. But, on the other hand, even with the back pain and tiredness and cramps and sharper contraction pains, I know baby is still preparing, and I want him to be as ready as possible before he comes into the world.. I want him to have a positive experience of being born and I want to be able to give him the trust and the time to know when he is ready to meet us. I also know my entire world will shift upside down and so I am enjoying have H as my husband while I can.

I did a visualisation of my cervix dilating and baby moving and wiggling out of me, and saw in my minds eye my newborn being given to me for skin to skin – but I did not visualise a time frame, rather my focus was on having a healthy and happy baby, and having a happy husband beside me too.

Mum is my birth partner and my advocate but she is giving me this time with him to have as a couple and prepare and I am so thankful for it, because rather than be worried now about how he will cope, I know he will be fine. He is doing his best and I know that things are never going to be perfect, but for now that is enough and more… I am really really blessed to have been given the opportunity for him to even be here 💓 and I want to make the most of that. I was so scared that he would miss this, and also scared that he wouldn’t and I would have to focus on him during the birth too – but despite being so far for so long, H has come here and done nothing but try and pamper baby and I. He is so excited to meet his son that every time we talk about it, or he kisses my belly, or talks to it, I fall a little more in love.

Dear Baby,

You have grown so much since I last sat down and thought about writing to you. All those months ago, you were a shock, and I was still not used to the idea of you inhabiting my body, let alone the major change you would bring to my life; but now, just over 1 week before you are due to arrive, I find myself reflecting on my pregnancy, and I have a few things to say before I finally meet you.

All those months ago I saw a lot of bad going on in the world, and it’s true, there is a lot of misery – the idea of it weighed me down, and I wrote that I was sad to be bringing you into a world of ‘fake news’, scaremongering, social media and greed. Months ago, I worried that when I turned on the television, all I could see was destruction. Things haven’t really changed all that much in the last 7 months, there is still a lot to be worried about – but what has changed is me.

You have helped me change.

I am only 20 and my youth left me frightened… I was scared that being so young I would not be a good mother to you; I felt helpless. The idea of you was one that while I found enchanting, seemed very surreal. Even though I wanted you, and I loved you so strongly just through the knowledge you were there, you were a being who was alien, and I feared you immensely.

Your conception was not a planned one my darling, and though I never want you to feel that you were/are unwanted, I will not hide from you that you did surprise your Dad and I. In fact, you turned our worlds upside-down. Months ago, this terrified me, but not anymore.

Today, I want to thank you.

I know now that you are the biggest blessing the universe could have ever given us and I feel privileged that you have chosen me to be your mum.

I am no longer unprepared; though I still have a lot to learn. I feel ready and excited now to meet you, and I cannot wait until you arrive. I have carried you for almost 9 full months and felt you grow and move inside me, I have felt the joys of pregnancy and soon I will experience the joy of motherhood.

You have changed me darling, in ways that I don’t think even I fully understand yet.

Throughout this time I have grown with you, both physically and mentally too – I have developed my yoga practice and hope to raise you in a yogic way, and I have worked hard at academia so that next year you will graduate with me. I wrote back then that I wanted to teach you how a smile can make the world a better place, but now, more than that I want to show you the impact a smile can have. Rather than teach you, I want to learn with you, and from you… and rather than worry about life, I want to rediscover it through your eyes.

My darling baby, I promised to love you unconditionally, and I already do. You are now the biggest part of my life, and I am excited to see you grow, and learn from you. The universe has given us to each other and so, before you are born I want to promise you once more, that no-matter what happens, I will protect you, and guide you, I will teach you and I will hold you close… my sweet baby, I will do my very best for you.

All my love,
Your mum xxx

“Have you made a birth plan?” …

“What does your birth plan contain?” …

“Don’t you think that’s something you should write in a birth plan?” …

“Why haven’t you made one?” …

“You should include that in your birth plan” …

These are some things I have been asked/told in the last few weeks – and while I totally understand that everyone around me is just trying to help and give advice, the reality is, advice is only wonderful when wanted.

Wait what? A first time mum doesn’t want advice!? *The world might implode…*

Of course this isn’t true; at least I don’t see it that way.

I have done a lot of research on what should go into a hospital bag in preparation for labour. There are hundreds of articles and lists and YouTube videos and each one makes you feel like there is more stuff to take, or that there is no way you will need everything you have packed.

I finally realised, after hours and hours of lists and packing, unpacking and repacking that in the end, it’s a VERY personal part of the labour experience, and like with every pregnancy, each person’s bag will ultimately be different. Therefore, this is not a guide as to what to pack, although feel free to take ideas, but rather it is just me sharing what I have decided on for my own experience.

Of course, geography also has a big impact. In the UK, women may be discharged as early as 6 hours after pushing their tiny human outside their bodies but here in Gibraltar, I will be offered the change to spend 1 or even 2 nights in the postnatal ward so that I have 24 hour support and can bond with my baby without the distractions of home. Personally, I think being discharged after 6 hours is scary, especially for a first time mum so I am genuinely pleased that I will be in Gibraltar when my baby arrives.

With this in mind – here is what I will be taking to the hospital (picture at the end)… hopefully, most of it will be put to use:

For Baby:

• Nappies x 22 (can pop home in 5 minutes if we need more)
• Cotton wool
• Baby wipes
• Muslin squares x3
• Baby vests x4
• Sleep suits x2 (one of them is the one my parents had for me)
• Towel

The only thing I am currently missing from my list is 1 or 2 nursing bras – because I don’t have them. I need to go shopping but have been so comfortable without wearing a bra through the entire pregnancy basically that I haven’t bothered yet! Also, I will be taking my phone and camera, but those are things I use daily so will get taken last minute with their chargers.

My flat is only a 7 minute walk from the hospital, so if I feel like I have forgotten anything or we need more stuff, I can always ask someone to pick it up. Also, there is a Morrisons literally opposite the hospital so snacks are available there (hence them not being on my list). As for my birthing partner, it’ll be my mum and if I’m lucky my husband too – but they won’t be able to stay overnight so they don’t have a bag of stuff…

I feel like I have everything ready, and I have 3 weeks left to wait so I am glad it’s done… If I wish I’d taken something or found some stuff entirely useless, I will post it as an update after D-day has come and gone. Until then… I will keep busy and hope for the best. 💗

Yesterday I went to a yoga class – Not a prenatal one, but a normal one and I adapted it. It was the most normal I have felt in weeks! I did a lot of prenatal yoga in my room, on my own at uni which was wonderful, but it is a completely different experience to do a class.

If you can’t get to a prenatal class, I strongly recommend going to a normal class and asking for modifications. Once you go a few times, you learn what you can and can’t do, and you can still benefit from the group activity.

This s a sequence I used a lot on my own in my room: