So Close

My body is clearly a very slow learner

** Warning: Body fluids mentioned **

If you are a guy, please do not continue reading. If you are a guy and you also happen to be my father, PLEASE do not continue reading. Thanks.

I went for my six week check up this week (yes I know! Can you believe it has been six weeks already!!)  The doctor asked whether I had stopped bleeding and I said "well, yes, I had stopped bleeding, but I've started again. It's very odd, could it be a period?" The doctor said that as I wasn't breastfeeding, it could possibly be a period. 

She check my bits and declared that all seemed to be in working order. (Let's not tell my husband, shall we.)  She then check my lining and my ovaries and casually mentions "oh yes, there is the follicle, you have ovulated, so it must be a period"

WTFF!!!  I have ovulated?  Less than 6 weeks after giving birth??  For five long years I couldn't ovulate for love or (lots and lots of) money and NOW I ovulate? NOW when my reproductive system has gone into forced retirement? It really isn't funny, I am NOT amused.

All I can say is thank bloody goodness I had my tubes tied because wouldn't that have been the height of irony if I got pregnant again.   

*Max has his 6 week check up tomorrow, can't wait to hear how much he weighs now and whether I can make him a sandwich and a packet of chips instead of endless bottles of formula.

Porridge brain

It is true.  Once you give birth, you lose 50% of your brain capacity.  It only partially returns. 

I have been incredibly doff (SA slang for stupid / slow / thick / intellectually challenged) lately. 

On Friday I tried to recharge my electric tooth brush, but no matter how long I left it in the charger, it remained flat. I couldn’t use the stupid thing.  I tried my old toothbrush in the charger, but it didn’t want to charge. I was furious.  I went out and bought another electric toothbrush on Saturday (bloody expensive), all the while composing an indignant letter in my mind addressed to Oral B. “Dear Oral B. I am a loyal customer of many years.  A month ago… blah blah blah”.  As I was about to look up their email address online, I suddenly had a thought.  I wonder if perhaps I hadn’t quite plugged the charger in correctly.  Tried again and oops.  The toothbrush is working. So now I have three electric toothbrushes.  The old one, the new’ish one and the brand new one.  All three work. How useful to have three electric toothbrushes.

On Sunday morning I discovered I had run out of ADSL (broadband internet). Here in South Africa you purchase a certain volume and if you run out, you have to buy more.  So I went online using my mobile / 3G and tried to purchase another gig.  The stupid input form kept saying I had entered my credit card number incorrectly. I retried a few times, still no joy.  I then walked all the way downstairs to fetch another credit card, same error message. By now I am getting cross. I phone the helpdesk and had a big moan at the operator. Blah blah ridiculous, site not working, blah blah and as I am speaking to her I suddenly notice that I am putting in my name in the credit card field and my credit card number in the name field.  I changed them around and within 0.2 seconds, I had my extra gig.  I mumbled something about ‘trying one more time’ and hung up. 

The list goes on, but they are too embarrassing to admit.  I really do hope my brain returns soon.

I leave you with Kate’s latest work of art, a friendly monster.  (She only ever draws monsters. Luckily most of them are friendly.)

 

Losing the baby weight

When I am pregnant, I eat.  Normally (i.e. when not pregnant) I am quite good at staying at my ideal weight and eating lettuce leaves etc, but pregnancy is my time to indulge.  I eat all the things that I don't normally allow myself to eat - cake, chips, chocolate, milkshakes etc.  I don't eat whole cakes in one sitting (not often at least), but I eat things I wouldn't normally. It is one time I have an excuse to have a sticky-out belly, and I embrace that belly with gusto.  Which means I tend to gain more than the recommended weight gain while pregnant. 

So here I am, 4 weeks postpartum and the great news is that I have lost all the baby weight I gained while I am pregnant - all 12 kgs / 25lb that could be accounted for by things baby-related (actual baby / placenta etc). Now all I have to do is lose the additional 12 kgs / 25lb I gained due to aforementioned pigging out.  This is the not-so-fun part.  But even with the not-so-fun bit afterwards, it was still worth enjoying every morsal while pregnant.

I am not always very kind to myself, bodywise. I am my own worse critic and I often feel 'fat', or 'ugly', even though my logical brain tells me I am not. But as I get older I get gentler with myself and I have decided that at age 40, after three children and many pregnancies (and at 4 weeks postpartum!!), I am never going to have the body of a 20 year old*. And that is ok. I have not let myself go (besides the teeny tiny BINGE sessions while pregnant), I look good, I am ok. And, as my mother likes to remind us, it took nine months to get into this state, I should allow myself nine months to get back to normal. Easy does it.  And I think, I hope! I am going to be able to keep this positive, healthy state of mind.  I hope so. 

Which was all good and well while I have been living in track pants, but OMG! I have my first full day of business meetings tomorrow and I DONT HAVE A SINGLE THING TO WEAR!!!  EEEEKKK!!  It is impossible to squeeze this chipschocolatemilkshake ass into anything in my cupboard and I am not sure sweatpants are going to cut it.  Bugger!

So off I went to my mother today to see if she had anything more accommodating in her cupboard.  Depressingly, after being unable to squeeze myself into any of her 'fat clothes', I gave up and stood in front of my cupboard again, trying to convince myself that sweatpants are the new black when I had a brainwave!  Maternity pants!  I could wear my maternity pants!  Nice and roomy, enough space for a milkshake ass and a chocolate belly. I am a genius! (yes, yes, you probably all know this trick already, I am a slow learner.)

So, I will be in my maternity pants tomorrow, but not for long. I do want to lose the extra weight I gained, but I don't want to get full of angst about it.  I will give myself some time and do a few positive things like add some exercise to my routine (excercise! gross!).  I am going to give myself 6 months to lose the 12 kgs, which I think is a sensible target. Let's hope I can do it, but most of all, let's hope I can keep this positive attitude about it all.  Keep reminding me if I start acting all asshole'ish about it, ok!

*Although I might never have the body of a 20 year old, thanks to some excellent skills from my plastic surgeon, I have the boobs of a 20 year old. 

(ok, not really, but couldn't resist a little self-teasing there. I dont have the boobs of a 20 year old, that would be silly.  We are talking AT LEAST 25/26 years old. Heh.)

Living in the moment

I know you will find this hard to believe, but I have one or two minor little flaws. I know, seems impossible huh? Well, it’s true. I am not perfect.  GASP!

While some of these flaws are pretty harmless and hardly annoying AT ALL (apparent inability to shut any cupboard doors after I’ve opened them, tendency to carry on and on ad nauseum about certain things, super sensitivity to criticism etc), there are some flaws that annoy even myself.  One of these is a tendency to worry so much about the ‘what if’ that I completely miss enjoyment of the present.

A friend of mine sent me the sweetest text message last week: 

“Was just thinking. You really got to be so happy with your life. Got 3 beautiful kids, a great hubby, a career you were made to have and a beautiful house to share memories in. I'd be proud if i were you”

What a sweet message. It gave me pause for thought.  I have been so busy worrying about the ‘what if’ – what if we have over extended ourselves with the new house? What if we can’t afford it? What about this recession? What if having a third child was a mistake? What if we can’t afford it? What if something happens to my children? How are they going to feel when they are 20 and I am GOD FORBID 60 years old… On and on I go.  Instead of looking around and being immensely grateful and proud for what I have achieved, what I have been blessed with.  I should be reveling in the moment, enjoying this amazing point and place in my life where so much good has happened.  I have so much to be grateful for. And I am grateful. It is not a sense of gratitude I lack; it is a sense of enjoyment of the present.

Look, I think a certain amount of worry about the future is a good thing. I know people who are seemingly oblivious that tomorrow exists – no planning, no pension, no savings. But I think there is such a thing as too much worrying. When you are so busy worrying about tomorrow and what could go wrong that you can’t even enjoy today, then you have a problem. Well, I have a problem.

But it’s a hard thing to do, to force yourself to live in the moment.  I want to do it though.  I really do, because I really do have so much to enjoy and be proud of.  I am just not sure how?

Any of you have any tips for living in the present? For enjoying today and not worrying so much about tomorrow?  Put on your Oprah / Dr Phil / shrink hat and share your wisdom while I lie here on your couch. (Forgive me if I nod off briefly, sleep is at a premium around here)

All well

Hello all

I have a feeling I am going to be a errant blogger for the next while.  Not so much that my new baby is keeping me busy, but between the baby, the new house and my business, I don't have much time for anything!  Business is v v busy (thank goodness), and I am trying to cram a full day's work into the few hours here and there that I have free. Yes, yes, I know - I am supposed to take it easy.  I am, kind of. Easy in a Tertia kind of way.  Ok, not easy but I am not taking strain, I am fine.

I am fine because baby Max is an absolute sweetheart. I know it is still early, but he really does seem to be a chilled baby.  Maybe because he has a million arms waiting to hold him if he just goes 'wah'.  I have to physically wrestle him away from Rose and my poor mother doesn't get a look in at all if Rose is around.  She is like a mother hen on steroids! My mom has resorted to taking Max to her house so that she can get some alone time with him. Marko is also really sweet with him, but you will remember from long ago that Marko doesn't really do newborns.  He loves his children, but prefers the newborns to be in the mother's arms while he coos from a distance. And that works perfectly fine with us as he does the twins at night etc.  Win win situation for us all.

The kids are super cute with baby Max.  They just adore him.  Adam fed him and burped him yesterday (Adam much more maternal than Kate, she was busy helping the gardener at the time). 

I am fine.  Already driving.  Just couldn't wait any longer.  My cut feels fine, no pain. I am a little tired, of course.  Max still hasn't figured out that night is for sleeping and day is for reading books or watching TV, so we spend quite a lot of time staring into each others eyes at night (when I would far rather be staring into the back of my eyelids) but being tired goes with having a newborn.  There isn't much you could do about it except grab the occasional nap (must work on this) and soldier on regardless (am expert in that).

So, all good in the land of the Albertyns.  House is coming along slowly but surely. There is still so much that I want to buy and do, but I've resigned myself to the fact that it is going to take time.  I know you want photos, but it seems so unfinished still!  I am waiting for my new chairs to arrive and the kid's new bedroom furniture.  Give me another month or so and then I will post photos.

In the meantime, you'll have to be satisfied with photos of the kids, the big ones, and the newest addition as well:

Apparently I am not Super Woman

Hmm, apparently I am not Super Woman and I can't simply go from zero to hero in 2,5 seconds.  My physical and hormonal recovery is taking a little longer than I would have liked (i.e. longer than 5 minutes).  Have hit a few 'wobblies' the past few days.  This morning I cried for 30 minutes because Marko forgot to take the dustbins out for dustbin collection morning.  I woke up from a deep sleep (dreaming that one of my favourite ED recipients did a DE IVF cycle using a bird (??) as a surrogate.  She got a positive beta with the bird, but then Marko accidentally killed the effing bird, leaving me absolutely devastated. I sobbed and sobbed about the surro bird).  Anyway, woke up out of a deep sleep to hear the dustbin men coming down the road.  Ran outside and tried to lug two super heavy wheely bins to the road, nearly rupturing my C section scar.  Then cried my eyes out about it.  Sigh.  These hormones are a bitch.  Plus as my dear mother reminded me yesterday, 'you've just had a major operation Tertia, and you are not 16 anymore'.  Thanks mom ;-)

I am trying to take it easy, but it is not easy dealing with the hormone withdrawal, the c section recovery, the twins AND a new baby.  Plus I tend to suffer from pre, mid and post natal anxiety.  Which makes it impossible for me to chill.  I get hyper and the more hyper I get, the more anxious I get.  I knew I had to have a sleep yesterday, but I lay there as stiff as a board, mind racing until I have up and took a sedative thingy.  Any other anxiety sufferers got any tips for me? I am on Cipramil, which obviously helps, and I am not keen to take other meds as I have SUCH an addictive personality that I will probably get addicted to them, but I also don't want to burn out and telling me to 'just relax' is about as constructive and useful as telling as a dying man to 'just pull yourself together'.  Don't you think we would do it if we could! 

Anywayyyyyyyyy, besides the now-dead surro bird, the weeping over the dustbins and the diminished sleep, we are all still doing well.  Max is a sweetheart, the kids are so sweet with him.  Especially Adam.  Adam has such a soft heart.  He keeps whispering to me "Mom, I really like your baby".  I want to melt. I keep reminding him that Max is *our* baby, not mine.  Kate took a photo of Max to school today so show her friends.  Sweetness.

So, I want to tell you about the C section, plus share some amazing photos the Paed took during the Section - you want to see? Or is that gross?  It's quite graphic, so not sure you want to see?  Let me know if you want to see / hear and I will do a post on it.  I will put a warning up so that if you dont want to read / see, you can click away.

I am off to take some Rescue Remedy. 

Hostage to the Hormones

Apart from that whole infertility / crappy eggs / miscarriage thing, the good thing about having PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome) is that I seldom get my periods.  Only a few times a year.  Which means that I very rarely suffer from PMS. I get perhaps an afternoon of either wanting to kill my husband, or wanting to weep at anything / everything.  Which could, or could not be related to the PMS, but I hardly 'suffer' from PMS at all. However, I have seen it affect people close to me, and it sucks.

My best friend (Friend Mel) and my sister (Sister Mel) both suffer terribly from PMS, as in very, very bad.  I can see they are not making this stuff up as they go from normal, skippy, happy to almost suicidal.  I feel really sorry for both of them, it must be terrible to suffer like that.

Apart from the lack of PMS, I was also really fortunate not to suffer from the affects of the fertility hormones.  I never went completely crazy on them, no Wicked Witch behaviour from me.  And in my six previous pregnancies, I was lucky enough to escape the Hormone Monster as well.

Well, have things changed this time around. This time around, I get a taste of what it must be like for those who suffer from PMS / hormone thingies.  And honestly? I feel incredibly sorry for you, because this sucks donkey's balls.

I am both amazed and horrified at how hormonal I am, seriously.  Today I wept and wept because Marko hadn't fixed Max's room yet, and clearly no one cared about me or Max and for all they cared, I could go into labour this very minute and have NOTHING ready*.  I felt desperately sorry for myself and had to go lie down on my bed for a bit as I was so upset.  PATHETIC!  I dont recognize myself. In fact, as I am having my meltdown / temper tantrum, I have an almost 'out of body' experience.  I can see and hear how absolutley over the top I am being, but I have no way of stopping myself. It's actually really scary.  I honestly don't recognize myself.

I am shitting myself for when Max arrives (I haven't forgotten how scary newborns are), but honestly, I am not sure I can live with myself much longer.  Deeply asshole'ish behaviour in the extreme.

* Everyone keeps asking me if my bag is packed and ready to go to the hospital, which is freaking me out because the answer is a definite no!  Firstly, I dont have a bag. Secondly, I am currently using / wearning all the things (PJs etc) I need for hospital and lastly, Max's things (nappies, bottles etc) are all still in boxes. I am starting to panic. In fact, I will get this sorted out tomorrow. Fuck. Back sore! This is how labour started last time. I CAN'T GO INTO LABOUR NOW, I DON'T HAVE MY BAG PACKED! 

It's hard work being this high maintenance. 

The Tertia Version of Alone Time

Got to the guest house at 12:30.  Worked solidly for 8.5 hours (butt was v sore from sitting), stopping only to pee (10 times), have a few of my snacks* at the desk and have a little sip or two of the wine).  Wash, go to bed.  Get up three times to pee.  Wake up at 5:50, make coffee, sit down at laptop and continue working.

I've had a good time in that I got lots of work done, but the scary thing is, I am not even close to being done.  All I have done is caught up, I have done any of my strategic planning stuff.  Oh well, at least I made a big dent into the backlog. I should actually make this a regular thing. Lessons the anxiety tremendously.

I had a pathetic little moment before bed time where I was all 'boo hoo, I miss my family', but I had a stern talking to myself and said "TERTIA!  Don't be ridiculous, you saw them this morning, you will see them tomorrow morning, get a grip, you fartbag".  I felt a bit better after that.

*My eyes were obviously much bigger than my stomach (which, bearing in mind the size of my belly, is a BIG thing) and I couldn't manage half the stash of snacks.  Never mind, they wont go to waste, I will eat them at home.  Except the wine, of course. And the sushi. That I managed to force down. 

Alone time off to a slightly rocky start

So, the day of the Great Alone Time getaway dawned bright and early this morning. All started off well, kids off to school with minimal fuss, a quick shop for supplies for family and back home to back my bag.  Then I got a phone that threw me into a total spin.  Work crisis stuff.  Had to take two rescue remedy pills to try get heart back from throat into chest.

Nipped off for quick pedi and wax.  Wont do that again as uterus does not like the half reclining position for too long, complained like hell.  From now on, only 30 min appointments.

Popped into Woollies to get snacks for Alone Time.  Spend equivalent of 50% of rate I paid for accommodation on snacks and yummy things. What can I say, I like to snack well.

Got to guest house.  Not exactly what I would have wanted.  A bit small and um, not luxurious, but for 450 ront, what do you expect. 

So, here I am, in the small room with freezing feet and already missing the kids, but I am determined to enjoy my time alone!  I have chocolate cookies, chips and dip and a smidgen of wine (conveniently decanted into one of my children's spill proof containers, what a good mother I am). I even bought a magazine in case I magically manage to get through all my emails / work within the next 24 hours.

I *will* have fun, even if it kills me!

PS Pregnancy police, look away or else you will see that there is SUSHI!! and WINE!!! in my snack pack!

Me Time

Why do I find it SO hard to leave my children??? I have been threatening to go away for a night of 'me time' for ages now, but I keep putting it off. What if they miss me?  All they want is for their mom to be close by, how can I deny them that, even if it is just for one night?  

Yes, I am PATHETIC!  (I hate leaving my children)

But I must get away, firstly because I have so much work I would like to catch up on, and secondly because once old Maxi Boy comes, there ain't gonna be any 'me time' for a loooooong time.

So, any one know of a good guest house or B&B in the Cape Town area. I am looking for some place QUIET - very, very quiet. I do not want to see anyone, hear one, speak to anyone.  I don't need super luxury, but I do want sparkling clean and fresh.  Oh, and it can't cost a lot because leaving my kids AND spending a lot of money would be more than I could handle.

Any suggestions? 

(Marko says "but why must you go stay in a guest house? why don't you go stay with your parents for the night?"  You don't understand my darling, when I say I don't want to see, hear or speak to anyone, I mean exactly that - NO ONE. I vont to be alone!)