My Heart Beats Like A Hammer

All in all, I’ve been pretty lucky this pregnancy.  Aside from a few “follow through” episodes of nausea (one being in a Supermarket parking lot), I’ve not had things too badly.  Today, was not so great.  At least that is what I was thinking.  Not that I was fearing for BOB’s health, because I think the Warrior Within is just great, but I was wondering what on earth was going on with me.

From around 3.30pm (BST – British Summer Time for you non UK dwellers – or 10.30am EST/7.30PST) I could feel this very odd feeling in my chest.  Like random beats of my heart.  It was almost like when you cut your finger and wrap something tightly around it and can feel your pulse thumping; only this was right below my neck and I hadn’t cut anything.  I held on to my chest to see if I was imagining things, but when I felt the thump inside I could actually feel it outside.  To say I was spooked would be a slight understatement, however I carried on with what I was doing.  I’m just good like that.

When Lee picked me up from work and I explained why I kept touching myself, I got a mini-lecture.  The same one I get every time I do not feel well and don’t want to waste the doctor’s time just in case it is nothing.  So I ignored him and we went to dinner.  But on the way home it was still there, even though I promised him if I ate something warm it would go away.  What?! I was hoping it would, and tried to convince myself at the same time as I was trying to convince him.   So after dinner he suggests we call NHS Direct, which is basically a phoneline where you speak to a health advisor, and then a nurse and then someone calls you back within 2 hours to either say “go to your doctor” or… well, I don’t know the or, I’ve always heard the go to your doctor message.

So I go through with it, then I start to feel a bit better and then MK DOCS phone me to ask when I am coming in (oh yeah… MK DOCS are the Doctors On Call when the regular offices shut). So we pack up and head over and surprisingly do not wait all that long to be seen.  The doctor checks my blood pressure, family history (assures me I am not having a heart attack), goes through the symptoms, and listens to my heart.  TADA.. finally he says that he can detect some palpitations which were more like missed heart beats. But as I’ve had this for 6 hours now he doesn’t think it is that serious.  He says I should get an ECG anyway just to be sure – even if they read irregularly during pregnancy.  He then calls the hospital who tell him that it is a 3 to 4 hour wait because they are manic.  We decide I won’t die before morning and agree that if it is there when I wake up, I will go see my doctor.

As I am getting ready to leave he randomly asks “have you experienced any burping or gas?”.  Embarrassed, but honest, I say “as a matter of fact, I’ve been having to burp a lot”.  Thinking we are getting somewhere I lean in with anticipation to hear what he thinks ….”try Gaviscon.  Sometimes your oesophagus can spasm when you have heartburn and it mimics heart palpitations”.

Wonderful.  I’ve probably got heartburn.  But no, it can’t burn, it has to make me think my heart is going to explode.

So far the Gaviscon has made my tummy speak 4 different languages, but my chest is still popping away.

At least I am not vomiting, right?

No, not Nelly, BOB.

That’s right, BOB’s got her (or his) first set of wheels.   Many thanks to Lee’s wonderful parents for kitting BOB out in the softest and coolest stroller.  Sure sure, there is a lot of time before BOB’s first ride, but we’re ready for it!  In fact, not only does BOB have wheels, but also a teddy bear soft snowsuit to make the Three Roundabout ride home from the hospital (that is assuming that I stay with MK General for some unknown reason).

Now all BOB needs is a blinged out baby bottle/pimp cup and we’re rocking.

Oh, and somewhere to sleep.  And maybe a couple of diapers.  But, time is on our side and hopefully I’ll hit the 16 week mark and find I’ve got this elusive energy that everyone promises me I am going to have once again.

We’ll see.

For now though, this Baby Momma is just happy to know that BOB’s got a ride home from the hospital.

Check it out:

BOB's Whips


I’m Fickle Like That

This morning at work I was discussing various ways to make BOB pay for having me feeling this ill when I’ve gone and passed the 12 week mark and now the 14 week mark.  Everyone says I should be feeling better, but the only thing is that I can sleep through the night – sort of.  What I mean is that I do not have to pee at 4am anymore.  I just have the weirdest dreams/nightmares.  Like the other night when I dreamt that Lee fed me raw chicken wings or the night after when I dreamt that he forced me to chain smoke and then refused to help me when I got a cramp in my leg.  Those are my dreams thanks to BOB.

Anyway, I digress.  Whilst discussing which country I could move to so that I may escape child abuse laws, I kept feeling this …this feeling.  It felt like. Well it felt like a sound I can make but cannot type out because there really is no phonetic way to type blrrrrrrrrrrr and really get your point across.  It was like someone was blowing a chain of bubbles in my stomach at random times.  No pain involved, not panicky response.  Just this odd sensation that came over me a few times.  By late afternoon it had stopped and I had wondered what on earth that was.  Could be good old gas? If so, why didn’t it feel harder, more uncomfortable… and where did it go?  So I gave up thinking about it.

That was until I was telling my aunt how I still feel like a pile of poo.  Oh, and I don’t look much better I may add.  And I described what I had felt.  She explained that it was BOB moving. Not kicking but moving and rubbing against something.  She had experienced the same thing.  And explained that it wouldn’t continue on through now, but would probably stop and then come back again later.

And that’s cool by me!  Because just knowing that she or he is in there enjoying the space whilst they have it, makes up for the triple eye bags in the lovely shade of onyx, the all day long nausea, the headaches and inability to catch up on sleep no matter how long I sleep for.  Know that it is all good in BOB’s hood makes me a happy bunny and all is forgiven.

For now.

Countdown Time: 180 days 14 hours 15 minutes left*

(*12 noon guesstimate provided by the daddy-to-be)

For the past year, I have been dreading today. Not sure of how I would be able to deal with it or how I am supposed to feel. Not sure if anyone else wants me to bring it up or if they’d rather deal with things in their own way.

For a while there I thought that I was going to be okay. That I wasn’t going to have this massive breakdown that I am sure most people expect my crazy-filled self to have. Then I started with my spontaneous crying in Las Vegas and I knew I had been fooling myself and no one else.

When I arrived back in England last Sunday I had a meltdown. Whether brought on my jet lag, pregnancy related hormone madness or just pure grief, I felt myself feeling exactly how I’d felt the day I lost my Daddy.

To be honest, I still feel that way. I thought that it would get easier. A lot easier than it has. But it is hard to let go of the feeling that it is not fair. That it shouldn’t have been him that the world lost on the 18th of August last year. And I strongly believe still, that it shouldn’t have been him.

What has been hardest is all of the unanswered questions. I cannot comment on the hurt, loss, emptiness, or sadness that you feel when you lose a parent after a long illness. Surely, the pain is as great as anyone who loses their parent suddenly, but there exists an opportunity for all that needs to be said to be said. You have a chance to make sure that person knows how much they mean to you and how much you love them. I never had that chance, and I never will. And all I want to know is if he truly knew how much he was loved.

I don’t think he did. And as much as people try and convince me that he knew, there is only one person who could have known, and I’ve lost him.

So here I am a year later, nearly 14 weeks pregnant and feeling like a lost little girl all over again. I am sure that I will make it through today, and tomorrow, and all the days that follow on, but it is difficult to ever get back the girl I was before this all happened since I will never know: a) if he knew how much I loved him and how much he meant to me and b) if he felt completely lonely when he went through the terrible thing he went through.

I had been hoping to have a somewhat quiet and sombre day, but it looks as though I can give up on that idea. Though I’ve got to think of the poor baby inside of me who must think her or his mother is a complete lunatic with all of the nose blowing, shakes from crying and coughing from this chest cold that is going on.

If my Daddy was here, he’d know how to make me feel better. Well, I wouldn’t be sad, but he’d be able to help me get through all of my not so lovely pregnancy side-effects. And I think that is what is making this seem all that much sadder. I always counted on my Daddy to be here when I went through this stage of my life. I always imagined that he’d be able to answer all of the questions that I have and be able to get me through any scary parts. And at the end, he’d most likely be the happiest person (aside from myself and Lee) because that is all he really wanted for when he died. Now, he is the only person who doesn’t get to be a part of this all. And that breaks my heart over and over again.

I’m still waiting to wake up, but a year on I am guessing I should start accepting that I will never have my questions answered, I will never get to say all of the things I wish I had and I will never get to say goodbye.

I just hope that I can properly explain to BOB how much his or her grandad would have loved him or her… in fact how much he did, without ever knowing them.


Things Heard In The Womb.

Over the past few days I have been suffering The Snots from Hell.  I’ve spent most of my days trying to either stop my nose from running, trying to breathe or trying to manage how nauseous I feel once I’ve managed to do the first two.  Yesterday I started to feel guilty because all I had eaten was some fruit and a bagel with Floraâ„¢ and I had a few twinges of stomach pain that felt as though BOB was trying to pinch my inside as if to say “feed me woman. oh and drink some more water, I’m parched down here”.  

So I was in an extra grumpy mood because I couldn’t breathe, felt like I was constantly going to vomit and wondered when Children’s Social Services was going to break down my door and have me for neglect.  I was very snappy, didn’t want to engage in any productive conversations, when Lee decided to toss aside the magazine I was reading and try to pin me down and force me to be happy.  I explained that it was not that easy as I was just not feeling well at all.  So he gave up on me and went to talk to BOB (via my belly button as he believes something so deep must be the best channel of communication because it is the closest thing to BOB) and although annoyed at the goatee stubble in my belly button, smiled because I thought it was such a cute moment.

That was until I heard “your Mommy shouts sometimes. she doesn’t really mean it that much. actually, she does.”

When questioned as to why he would not say only positive things to BOB, he replied with “it is the same kind of stuff that you are going to poison him with when I am at work all day. I thought I’d get a head start”.


In the news today…

…the long speculated, but often denied (well not really, but I was supposed to be denying it) rumour regarding my harbouring a homie in my tummy … has been confirmed. Not only that, but the clever clogs even has a blog of his own.

Okay, so perhaps he is not a brainiac quite yet and I am the one writing it, but still. With Lee as a father and parents who met on the Internet, is there any chance that this child will not be a computer whizz.

Oh, and no, I do not know if BOB is a boy, but I do know that she enjoys flitting about and karate chopping in my womb.

Rock on, Little BOB, Rock on!

All updates can be read at: http://www.kasta.co.uk/bobblog

Ooh, you can also see his stunning first photograph there. What a hottie. Must take after her mother. 🙂


Our Little Homie

Earlier today I was convinced that BOB was going to pull attitude for having to suffer through the night with my inability to breathe and honking nose every few minutes. Before we’d arrived I’d prepared myself for total freeze out action – BOB basically giving us a look at the backside and that’s that. But no, I sold our child short. Instead, BOB threw up gang signs for us. Showing us all fingers and the thumb on the left hand and the boxing stance of the right hand. And all chilled out like the little homie he or she will eventually be.

So all is well in BOBLand. Heart a thumping, swimming away like she’s got somewhere to be, and Lee and I couldn’t be happier. They’ve put the due date at 19th February 2008 and we get to see the little dude again in 7 weeks! Can’t wait. For now .. until Lee sorts out a clearer picture… here is BOB!

BOB at 13 weeks

…some Neo Citran.

My sinuses are clogged, my throat barely open, I cannot stop peeing, I am nauseous and constipated and I can’t take Neo Citran.  This must be some sort of punishment for dirty deeds done in a past life.

And how are you today?

On a positive note – we get to SEE BOB today for the first time!  Let’s hope I can get through it without traumatising the little lime with my honking nose blows.


We’ve Scored A Try – mester!

Over the past week and a half, BOB, Lee and myself have been on four plane rides, gone from rainy cool weather to the humidity of Toronto and the burning heat of the Nevada desert. We’ve suffered (because when I suffer – everyone suffers) from nausea, unbelievable backaches, spontaneous teary outbursts and an inability to properly enjoy the buffets of Las Vegas.

It’s not all been bad. Every time I had a stomachache or uneasy feeling, when I discovered that all was still okay, the elation made up for the rest of it. Every time the nausea comes back Lee and I are atcually quite happy because we know BOB’s still kicking my butt.

Today we arrived back in Toronto and with great relief as we’ve hit the 12 week mark and everyone has been able to exhale a little and let out a huge sigh of relief. We’ve made it to this “magic” point and welcome the start of the second trimester.

Hopefully the second will bring relief from the first in ways which mean that I can stay awake for extended periods of time and not be sick every time I think about eating something delicious.

So hooray to BOB for putting up with me this long! Only 6 more months to go – and then the rest of your life. We’ll try and make it worth it!