Can I give you some pregnancy advise?

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If I look back over my pregnancies, I think the one thing I can remember is that I loved being pregnant.  I loved knowing I was pregnant, I loved the feeling when you could feel the baby there – I really loved being pregnant.

{I am not suggesting I did not have the back pain, rectal piles, hormone overload, puking and all the other symptoms which often go hand in hand with your uterus expanding)

Each of my three pregnancies was so vastly different to each other, and I was in such a different “space” with each of them, I can barely compare them to each other.

If I had to impart a single wisdom about pregnancy, having a baby and having a newborn it is that “your experience is unique, and you do what works for you…”

When I had Connor, it was the easiest pregnancy imaginable.  I had practically no symptoms of pregnancy barring a stomach.  I could not understand what pregnant women complained about.  I had an elective c-section, and sailed through that.

At the time I thought I had it all taped, and was the spiritual point of knowledge on pregnancy and newborn babies.

Then I was pregnant with Georgia.  I was pregnant from October 2004.  From October I was sick.  Deathly sick.  I did not take Gaviscon, so much as I drank it with a bendy straw.  I felt terrible, exhausted and frayed the entire way through the pregnancy.  By June 2005 I was weeping, nearly every day …. and it was not in happiness.

I was sick with every lurking going.

On two occasions I SPED to my OBGYN and arrived crying, without an appointment, because I was convinced by baby was dead.

I became obsessed with the idea of having a VBAC, and ran around for about five months trying to find a midwife who would partner with me, at the same time trying to circumvennt my OBGYN because she was pro-second-c-sections.

The entire period of the pregnancy was horrific, and I seldom sat back and thought “Man I am loving this pregnancy!”  I did often cry on the way back from work, after an exhausting day wondering how I could get myself out of this rather desperate situation.

Second baby, and I was humbled by the entire experience.  I realised I was out of my depth both during the pregnancy and standing with a newborn and a 3 1/2 year old, and trying to figure out how I seriously was going to survive this lot.

Fast forward a few years and I was pregnant with Isabelle.

I was clearly older, and less fit than I had been before.  If you asked me what I remember most about that pregnancy, I would say it was how worried I was.

I kept thinking something was wrong, she was not moving and there was really nothing I could do to control what was going on inside me.

I bought an electronic doppler, and lived for the moment I could lie on my bed, with 1/2 tube of KY and listen to the beat of my child’s heart.  It would give me a respite from the worry that something was wrong – I was convinced that with two healthy children, I could not expect a healthy third … the fate of the universe just did not work that way.

I was stressed that I was over 35 and risking a pregnancy, so that just added to the permutations of things I could and did worry about.

The pregnancy was hard on my body.  From 4 months I ached – my back and legs were killing me. I was convinced I would go for my monthly OBGYN check up and he was going to tell me I was 45 centimeters dilated, because that was how I felt – my uterus felt like it was permanently on its way out.

By the time that “my day arrived” I was mentally in avoidance.

I convinced myself it was not happening.  On the drive to the hospital I asked Kennith to go to a mall -I thought if I wandered around a bit and bought pointless things it woulld buy me a bit of time, to keep this mummery farce that I was not having a baby today.

I went into the c-section petrified! Everything anyone ever said to me that could go wrong, was going to go wrong that day (in my head!)

I was petrified.

At one point I was begging Kennith (in quiet whispers so as not to upset anyone) that he needed to stop them (the surgeon) as I was not ready and something was going to go wrong.  I could see the reflection in the theater lights, and I was convinced I could feel every cut and pull.  I was so scared. I thought I was going to die, and the baby was going to be cut.

Of course nothing went wrong, everything was fine (barring a small incident in post op).

The point after all of this gumph is that no two pregnancies are the same, and no individual is the same.

My three experiences have humbled me to realise that there is no way I can offer advise to anyone, as each of my pregnancies were so vastly different.  When it comes down to it, your experience is unique to you, and you alone.

I must seriously confess that one of the few benefits to having three pregnancies, is that the moment some well meaning person offered advise, I could say “it’s okay, this is my third …. I’ve got it …. really now fk off so I can drink my 1 glass of wine I am allowed per day”