Magic Beans Card Limited

Welcome to The Sprout Blog!

What’s The Sprout Blog? It’s where I get to write about the ups, downs, ins, outs and general madness of becoming a first-time parent. I’m hoping my experience will sound familiar to other first-time Mums, and I’m sure those of you who’ve been through it before will think I’m incredibly naïve!

My head is back to normal! And Sprout is almost forgiven…

That means no more drugs (which worry you like crazy even when a GP and your midwife says they’re perfectly safe), no more afternoon naps, and it’s back to the waiting game.

Lots of friends are due to pop around now so I’m becoming more and more impatient.  December seems a long way off. Which is good – there’s still heaps to do (the nursery is still fairly untouched thanks to my recent inability to remain vertical for long), but I’m really keen to meet Sprout in person!

And, strangely, the more I read about the birth process, the less afraid of it I become.

I’ve decided to adopt the “my body will know what it needs to do so I should just go with it” approach. And all going well, that should work.

Don’t get me wrong, I figure it won’t be a walk in the park (unless that walk is over hot coals interspersed with broken glass), but women have managed for millennia, right?

I’ve started Tai Chi to get my organs nice and strong, and to encourage my pelvis to open as much as it can when the time comes, but I’d love to hear about what got you through labour. The more positive the better please!

Put it this way – my lumbar puncture the other week has definitely put me off epidurals! I’m keeping an open mind though…

What a week. I’ve had another first – and not a pleasant one.

My first pregnancy complication.

Don’t worry – Master Sprout is just fine. But I’m being punished for my lack of morning sickness!

It started last Tuesday when I woke up with a headache. A 7-out-of-10 headache on the pain scale. And I don’t get headaches.

By Wednesday afternoon no amount of Panadol had eased it, so I took myself off to see my fabulous GP.

She was fantastic. 

Step one was to check Sprout, my liver, kidneys, any protein in the old urine…

Step 2 was to consult with her colleague – this chick wasn’t taking any chances – and the next thing I knew I was being sent to Auckland Hospital for tests.

That didn’t go down well with the Husband (who isn’t the most patient of men when it comes to waiting for busy medical professionals). The last time he was at Auckland Hospital it was because his Grandmother died there, and the last friend who had a headache lasting days died of an aneurysm. He wasn’t taking any chances with me…

So we waited to have a CT scan. For 5 hours.

They explained the radiation risk to bubs was the same as flying to the UK – which I’d think nothing of. So through I went.

And despite “23 weeks pregnant” being written all over my chart, the radiographer (bless him) looked at it, looked at my giant belly and looked nervous.

“Is there any chance you could be pregnant?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’d say 100%.”

“Um, I’m just going to check with my supervisor to see if we can do this,” he replied. Seriously? After waiting for 5 hours with an increasingly antsy husband?

Of course they did it, and there was nothing to see. So we moved on to the lumbar puncture. 

Not my idea of a good night out.

And an hour and a half later, at 1am, I was told I didn’t have a tumor, a bleed, or meningitis so I could go.

But I still had a headache.

By Friday I’d had enough so I went to see my midwife. And I could have saved a lot of time and agony if I’d done that first.

It turns out, 1 in 5 pregnant women experience migraines once they hit the 21-week mark – and those migraines can last for weeks. It’s to do with the increase of pressure from the extra blood in your body.

The good news is, it should pass by week 25. (I really wish the pregnancy reference books I had mentioned it.)

So I’m not a freak, my Sprout is fine, and I have some better painkillers. But, a week later I still can’t stay vertical for more than 20 minutes without wanting to scream. Silently.

Frankly, I’d happily swap this for morning sickness every day. 

Guess I don’t have a choice though.

posted August 23rd 2010

It has been a week of firsts!

I’ve had 3 firsts and only one was bad. So it’s been a mighty-fine week.

The first thing was when I felt Sprout move for the first time. I’d had the odd sharp pain in my spleen or intestine before, but figured it was nothing.

But then I had my first flutter!

It was actually more like a ripple than the “butterflies” most people have described it as, and now I think Master Sprout has been paying attention when we go swimming. When I sit at my desk it feels as though he’s practising his underwater turns at the end of a pool length. Except in my womb.

I can’t wait until it’s strong enough for Chris to feel it too – but I love my secret little baby bond.

The next first involved a walk of shame.

I went to see my midwife. And let’s just say I was a few weeks late in getting round to it. We’d seen her at week 9, but it slipped my mind and it was 12 weeks until I went back. Oops.

Anyway, she took one look at me and said, “Are you sure you’re only 21 weeks?”

“Yes,” I replied, “I’m sure.”

“And the scans confirmed the estimated due date?”

I nodded and started to panic.

Out came the tape measure. Sure enough, it measured exactly 21 centimetres (ha!).

“Oh,” she said, “you’re just short so it looks huge.” Great.

Anyway, that wasn’t the cool first. The cool first was hearing Sprout’s heartbeat for the first time. That was incredible! (I can see why people buy those foetal heart-monitor thingies – it’s the most blissful sound in the world.)

And now for the not-so-grand first.

After days of thinking the mark on my boob was just the kind your skin gets from lying on a crumpled sheet or nightie, I realised it’s actually my first stretch mark.

Nooooooooooo!!!!

But it’s hardly the end of the world, right?

What are your fave firsts? What do I still have to look forward to? And why does 9 months seem to take forever to get through?

Let me know!

Did you see Campbell Live last Tuesday? 

They had a piece about working Mums versus (but not in a battle way) at-home Mums. And it got me thinking. 

We’re back on the whole “how long can I stay off work before we’d lose the house” tack again so it struck a chord with me. And while I like that the programme dealt with different situations (and said not to beat yourself up if your little one HAS to go into childcare), I wish there’d been more on my situation.

For me, the financial pressure to go back to work is so great that I don’t really have the choice of staying home with the Sprout (and because I can’t it makes me want to all the more).

Then there’s the balance thing.

The Professor that John Campbell interviewed (*sigh* I love John Campbell…), said the ideal balance in the baby’s first year is 20 years of paid work outside the home, and the rest of the time with Sprout.

Ha! By the time I paid for 20 hours of childcare and the groceries, there’d be nothing left. Chris would be stuck with the mortgage, insurances, utilities, car-running costs, doctor and vet bills. It’s just not possible.

And if we had 2 children, it would make more sense for me to stay at home.

My friends have fantastic advice about how to stretch a single income.

They’ve said:

• Use cloth nappies

• Give up subscriptions

• Bake your own bread and plant a vege garden

• Borrow from other families, or swap things with them

• Find ways to reduce your power bill

• Do freelance work when Sprout is asleep

• Give up the internet (I draw the line there)

• And if you HAVE to buy something for bubs, make sure you use your Magic Beans card

At the moment, the best I think we’ll manage is 4 months of maternity leave. I plan to ease myself back by working in the office for 2 days a week for the first couple of months. Then I’ll up it to 4.

You might have been in the same boat – how did you cope? Or if it’s looming on the horizon, what are your plans?

Posted 9th August 2010

This week I’ll apologise in advance because I need to rant.

It seems being pregnant is the same as being a celebrity. You’re public property. And that means everyone, including complete strangers, has an opinion on how you look.

I can’t get my head around it. So if you see a story in the news about a pregnant woman going postal in the next few weeks, it’ll be me.

I’m sure every pregnant woman has to deal with comments about her weight – my question is why? What gives acquaintances the right to say anything (and then accuse you of bitchiness if you come back with a similarly snide retort)?

Am I being too sensitive? Possibly. But, in the interest of full blog disclosure I’ll give you the overview of my recent history.

For the past few years, I’ve been a size 6-8. And not in a good way. 

I had plenty of under-eating and over-exercising issues which I know aren’t unusual. But I started to deal with them. Let’s just say 18 months ago I wouldn’t actually have been able to get pregnant.

Now I’m a lot healthier. 

And I became (and, according to the labels on my clothes, still am) a size 8-10. Admittedly weight has gone on in different places that I mightn’t be thrilled with – yes, the curves are back – but it’s meant to. I know I’m supposed to store fat so I can feed the Sprout. And there was no way I could have maintained my running regime and grown a healthy bubba.

Even though I know all that, and even though I still work out within the parameters the awesome team at my gym set for me, my weight is a touchy subject. 

So when the lady I get my coffee from in the morning says, “Look at your chubby face! You’ve put on weight,” I want to slap her. And when the guy in the office says, “Getting a bit chunky there, Jo,” I wish my “Yes, I’m 5 months pregnant, what do you expect?” was enough to shut him up.

Am I over-reacting? How have you dealt with it? Do I just have to suck it up and try to stop other people’s rudeness from tainting what’s been an amazing experience otherwise? 

Should I risk being labelled the pregnant bitch by replying with comments like, “Heavens! You’re showing your age,” or, “That haircut looks dreadful, I hope you didn’t pay for it.”

(I know paparazzi-stalked celebs would never do that. But they can sue.)

What do you think?

posted 2 August 2010.

Oh boy. 

We’re having one of the blue variety – one with a spout!

And just between you and me, I’m a little disappointed.

I shouldn’t be – especially as everything else is working as it should, and Sprout is growing beautifully – but deep down, I was hoping for a girl.

Of course Chris is ecstatic. 

I’ve already vetoed the soccer pitch nursery theme. And the Star Wars wall stickers (although I know he’s excited that his Star Wars sheets will be put to good use again). 

Somehow I think I’ll have to give in to the Tottenham Hotspurs stretch’n’grow.

It’s all about compromise, right?

Every Mum I’ve told who has a son has been genuinely delighted for me – and very reassuring.

I’ve learned that little boys love their Mummies. And they’re super cuddly. And they believe everything their Mummies tell them.

Little girls, on the other hand, are born knowing everything.

I can work with a boy if that’s the case. (Someone also suggested I start saving for the teenage years now – groceries could bankrupt us!)

So he’s a he. Let the shopping begin! I suspect my Magic Beans card is about to pay for itself a hundred times over. And the sales are on too!

We picked up some clothes on the weekend – in sizes that will fit next winter – and nesting mode has almost kicked in. This weekend’s project is wallpaper stripping and making room for the accidental Trade Me purchases of last week.

I reckon I’ll get into “boy mode” in no time. Especially if I hear other Mums’ great boy experiences.

I’d love to hear your stories!

Posted July 26th

I got a bollocking from the lovely ladies at Insight when my impatience got the better of me last week.

I called them to move our scan from next Thursday to this Thursday and was given the hard word about having to be the 19 week stage otherwise I’d be wasting everyone’s time.

Fortunately this Thursday marks the start of 19 weeks, so I won!

And then, once the euphoria wore off, trepidation set in.

You see, we were (ok, I was) amping for this scan to find out whether Sprout is a boy or a girl. Now that it’s so close I’ve realized that we’ll find out heaps of other stuff too.

Is everything working ok? Is s/he the right size and growing properly? Am I a good or a bad mother already?

And then came the awful “should I have had that glass of wine the other week?” (don’t judge me please), “was it ok to have that soft cheese? It was pasteurized…” and “did I do any damage when my heart rate got up to 170 bpm at the gym the other day?”

It’s crazy.

If anything is wrong, will I blame myself forever? If it’s not, after breathing a huge sigh of relief, should I be extra cautious, or does it just mean that we preggers women are given way too many guidelines?

Part of the major panic has to come from being blessed with a ridiculously easy pregnancy so far. It can’t be that simple. Surely.

But I guess I’ll know on Thursday.

So check in next week. I hope to have good news for you – and a gender! And if it isn’t great, then I know you’ll have words of wisdom for me.

Keep your fingers crossed!

Posted 20th July 2010

The great child-care debate.

I know it seems really early to be thinking about it (and I’d much rather spend my time on Magic Beans shopping for things for the Sprout), but all my attention is on where to put bubs when I’m back at work.

I still have 5 months to go and still don’t know whether I’ll be enrolling a Master or a Miss Page, but everyone’s telling me I need to get on to day-care now.

Depressing huh?

The baby hasn’t arrived, I haven’t had chance to bond, and already I’m trying to palm it off on someone.

But that’s my reality. If I’m not earning after 14 weeks, we won’t be able to cover the mortgage.

Actually, that’s not true. We’ll cover the mortgage, or pay the bills and eat. Just not both.

So in March it’ll be hi-ho-hi-ho-back-to-work-I-go.

And these are my options:

· My parents and Mum-in-law work so they’re out.

· My Dad-in-law is retired but a smoker. I love him to bits, but the nicotine habit means he gets my veto.

· My hubby works one weekend day and gets a weekday off every week. If he can lock in the same day every week that’s one day’s day care we don’t have to pay for.

· And if I come back to work for 4 days instead of 5, that’s 2 days we don’t have to pay for (although I’ll lose almost a weeks’ pay every month)

So we’ll still have to pay $200 a week for 3 days’ child care.

That’s $10,400 a year.

That’s scary! I’d rather knock that off the mortgage…

Any other ideas? What did you do? What do you wish you didn’t have to do? Please post your thoughts on Magic Beans’ Facebook page – I need all the ideas I can get!

Posted 11th July 2010

Advice is a tricky beast.

Sometimes it’s welcome, other times… not so much.

And I’m discovering that everyone has plenty of advice to offer as soon as they find out you’re preggers. Including people who wouldn’t know which end of a baby is up. 

I’m learning who to listen too (sometimes that includes people I don’t really want to listen to, but have to because they’re family), and who to ignore. Politely.

One of the most interesting advice sources I’ve stumbled on this week is an Aussie book on baby and child-raising from 1986.

We’re talking pencil-sketch illustrations, directions on how to fold a nappy, and how to make up a basinet. 

That’s all useful stuff, right? Especially for the husband to learn in advance (although our cats have drawn the line at being volunteered for nappy-change practice.)

But some guidance in there isn’t current. Like putting baby down to sleep on his/her tummy or side. 

On the tum makes sense to me – I’ve always wondered about sleepy-on-their-back babies choking on their own reflux – although aren’t we all taught to put babies on their backs? Something to do with creating a flat head and bald patches…

But if that’s changed in 24 years, what else has? And if I use that as my baby bible, how will I know if I’m doing everything “wrong”? (Hang on, I’m sure my mother will tell me.)

Is there really a wrong way to look after a baby? Surely if it’s loved, warm, fed, dry, clean and stimulated that’s all that matters? 

I figure the whole child-bearing and rearing thing is a minefield so I’m taking things with a grain of salt. Including what I am and am not allowed to eat. No soft cheese? Please! It’s pasteurised. No raw fish? Yeah, fair enough.

What about you? Were you a stickler for the “All pregnant women shalt…” rules, or did you go with the flow? What worked? What didn’t? 

Yep, I’m asking for your advice.

Posted 28th June 2010

Here’s why: I’m not feeling very pregnant. At all.

Is that normal?

The thing is, nothing’s happened this week. My stomach has suddenly popped out, and my back is hellishly sore (in a did too many deadlifts with shocking form kind of way), but other than that, nothing. 

I’m still a bit tired (it’s nowhere near as bad as it was) and there’s no nausea so it feels as though I’m in limbo land. And the whole idea of being a Mum actually seems to become more surreal the closer it gets.

What’s going on? What am I meant to look for? Is it the first time I feel the Sprout move? Or will I feel less like an imposter once we know whether I’m having a boy or a girl and can attach a non-gardening pet name to the bub? 

Should I do more planning and actually go and buy things?

What was it for you? Help me out!