The antenatal class yesterday was fantastic; much better than I'd anticipated and only one chav monkey! Brilliant!

There was one "proactive" couple; a woman who frowned a lot and maintained a 'life or death' serious expression throughout the day, and her husband who turned up late wearing a suit with a loosened tie, looking harrassed and leaving every now and again to take calls on his mobile whilst leafing through an official-looking leather bound diary. They were clearly very important people. Really, they were. Hugely important.

People like this really make me laugh and worry at the same time...I mean, seriously. If you haven't got the time to just sit still and pay attention during an antenatal class, how on earth are you going to cope when you're up all hours of the night, totally knackered, and there's a tiny little person attached to your wife's nipple 24/7? Hmm? How??

But anyway.

There was one woman there who has successfully managed to put Alex off the Irish accent forever, who I'm sure will stick in our minds forever.

At first we both felt kind of sorry for her. She was on her own, no partner, her family and friends were all in Ireland and we found out that when she went into labour she was going to have to get an ambulance to take her. And to top it all off, she'd just moved house and now had a 30 minute journey to get to the hospital. Not an ideal situation.

But.

As the day wore on, our sympathy wore off. She was so very very gobby! By 11am Alex and I had a book going to see how many times she could mention 'Desperate Midwives' within an hour. By 2pm we had another book going to see how many times she could interrupt the midwife midsentence, jumping in with what was usually totally inaccurate information. At around 3pm I was considering ramming the foam placenta model down her throat, just to make her shut the hell up.

Christ.

We actually had to cut the class a tiny bit short, meaning that we didn't get to cover what happens if you have to have a c-section. I'm convinced this wouldn't have happened if gobby Irish bird had just managed to keep her gobby trap shut for more than 2 minutes.

She'd bloody well better not go into labour at the same time as me. If I'm walking around the hospital trying to keep contractions going and I hear that distinctive voice echoing from around the corner...well, you wouldn't think a woman in labour could run, but I think I'd manage it. Or, if it was too late and she'd already seen us, possibly stab her with an epidural needle. Yes.

OK...MAYBE IT IS POSSIBLE

But yes. Clearly the whole point of the day was not to people-watch and choose who I would like to be in the hospital at the same as time as me. The whole point was to get us all prepared and ready for giving birth.

I was so totally convinced that it wasn't possible, that there was no chance I could ever feel like this whole 'giving birth' malarkey was something I could do. Luckily, I was wrong.

I now feel like, although it's going to be sodding difficult, bloody painful and extremely hard work, I will get through this. And I'll probably get through it quite well. I don't feel nearly as terrified of the whole thing and, in some sick and weird way, am actually sort of looking forward to it. It's kind of like when you've been panicking about an exam, getting yourself into a state about how you're going to fail, how you're not going to know any of the answers etc etc...then all of a sudden you manage to calm yourself down enough to actually do your revision and you suddenly feel all hyped up and like "ok, let's do this - I'm as ready as I'm ever going to be."

I'm really not sure if that makes sense, but it's how I feel. I think it helps that a lot of the course yesterday was aimed at what birth partners can do and how important they really are...and as much as we thought we knew the stuff Alex was going to be doing, it turned out we really knew jack-shit. So now Alex knows how to effectively do massage, he knows that his main job is to keep me calm (as adrenaline can actually slow or stop contractions), he knows how to help me with my breathing (and it's really not at all like you see on tv - none of this panting malarkey) and he also has a much better understanding of what I'll be going through, physically. He knows what will work for me; how to help me get through each contraction etc. For me, knowing that he now has the knowledge to recognise stuff like when I'm starting the 'transition' stage of the labour is really reassuring - it's like I know that he isn't going to accidentally make things worse by offering advice or suggestions.

God that was rambly and crap - no structure whatsoever. Ah well, that's how my brain feels right now.

MENTAL ANGER AT PEOPLE GIVING ADVICE

Oh God though, the advice giving. I'm going to actually smack the next person who tries to give well-meant advice.

We've got the tools we need now to get through the birth and look after a newborn. Anything we don't know or we feel unsure about, we can call the midwife or health visitor for advice and assistance. We're confident in the choices we've made as a couple and although we're still very very scared, we know that we're working together as a team and we'll be able to do this.

So.

Imagine my rising fury (yes - FURY!)whilst on the phone to my Mom last night.

Mom: "So did you learn how to make up a bottle?"
Me: "No, but we're breastfeeding-"
Mom: (slightly panicked voice) "-but you need to know Darling. What if you need to know how to make up a bottle?"
Me: "Well, it can't be too difficult, and we'll ask the Health Visitor if we have trouble."
Mom: "You need to know now, darling. What if you can't breastfeed?"
Me: "Well, we'll try. It can't be rocket science, surely."
Mom: "Did you learn how to fold a nappy?"
Me: "No...but we don't need to know...we're using disposables..."
Mom: (sounding disappointed) "Oh, of course... Do you want me to get you a cat net for the cot and moses basket?"
Me: "Well, the cats won't be allowed in the nursery - there's too high a chance that Heather will have allergies because of Alex's asthma and eczema. And we wouldn't leave the moses basket alone with the cats in the room."
Mom: "I know darling, but for your peace of mind. You can't be in the room all the time."
Me: "Well, if we couldn't be in the room then we'd lock the cats out. They can't be in the room when she's in the moses basket, in case they knocked it over."
Mom: "But darling, if someone comes to the door or the phone rings..."
Me: "There's a higher risk of them knocking the basket over than of them climbing in and sleeping on her, so she wouldn't be left alone."
Mom: "But darling...you can't know that. And what about one for the cot?
Me: "The cats aren't going in the nursery at all."
Mom: "Yes darling, but one day when I got home when you were a baby I found Rhubarb sleeping in your cot. He'd pushed the door open and had climbed inside. I had to clean all your cot bedding...oh, it was terrible."
Me: "It's lucky that the door to the nursery is so stiff then."
Mom: "But Carrott's a big cat darling"
Me: "No, don't worry - it really is stiff. If I have to have a caesarean I won't be opening that door by myself for a while."
Mom: "You're not going to have a caesarean."
Me: "Well, no I don't want one. But you have to bear these things in mind."
Mom: "No. You're not going to have a caesarean. You're going to have a perfect birth."
Me: "I hope so, but you do have to be prepared for these things just in case."
Mom: "You're not going to have a caesarean."

And so on and so forth. Apologies for the long long long conversation transcript, but I just had to communicate the infuratingness of it all. I feel much better now.

I'm not sure if I posted another incident of Dee-madness already? Well bollocks, I'll quickly tell you again anyway. I'd just finished telling Dee how I would like the room to be quiet with dim lighting for when Heather is actually born, as I think the whole experience will be more traumatic for her than for me. I'd already said that we want Heather to be put straight onto me. So Dee's response of "if you have the opportunity for her to have oxygen immediately after she's born, take it. Babies who have oxygen are more intelligent." was slightly confusing and badly timed.

What the...? Nice, natural, calm birth...followed immediately by having the baby whisked away to be given oxygen that it doesn't need? No. No.

People are mad.

I sense that this is only going to get worse, though. And even more so once we've actually had her. And I don't know who will be more "helpful" - people who have had babies or people who haven't had babies (but who have read lots of theories about the 'best way' of doing things)? Maybe equally as head-hurting...?

I know we just have to remember that as long as we're confident in what we're doing as a couple we don't have to listen to anyone else. And I know that it doesn't really matter that people will probably think we're being very blinkered and stupid in saying "we don't want advice". We know that people will still try to give us advice, telling us the best way of doing things and passing on pearls of wisdom remembered from having their own children or gleaned from parents or grandparents...but we don't have to listen.

I'd love to be able to stop people from offering advice (especially the people who argue with my opinions or decisions...they may think that I'm being very stupid or illogical or irresponsible or any of the above, but what they seem to forget is that Alex and I have discussed everything and are doing things our way), but I know it's not ever going to happen.

Don't get me wrong - it's great when somebody says "I found X baby monitor really useful" or "when we first had baby James we found it was excellent to have X and X to hand", when they then stop speaking after offering the helpful opinion. But for Gods sake, we're going to go mental at anyone who tries to play devils advocate (offering advice to make sure we've considered everything) or who tries to tell us that we're doing it wrong, or even at people who are too forceful with their opinions. There's only so much we can take!

I totally went off on a ranty tangent then and for this I am sorry. My brain is like a big knotted ball of string at the moment...I just get close to unravelling the thoughts and then I pull on something and cause a huge knot that takes bloody forever to unpick again.

I think what I was trying to say was...everyone approaches labour, birth and parenthood differently. Alex and I will do our best at being the parents we are designed to be. We're a good team, we work well together and we will do this...in our own way. I think we both feel much more confident now (and much more able to tell people "Shh").

So it's all good.

CARROTT IS ALL BETTER

Yay! Celebration! My cat is back to his fully healthy, arseholey self again!

We took him to the vets for his final check-up last night and the vet has said that he's perfectly happy with him. Carrott is all better.

He really made a tit of himself though. We got him into the cat box and into the car, where he started doing his pitiful "I'm scared!! Scared!!!" meowing. Then, when we were sat in the waiting room of the vets another cat was brought in...a cat that had been so terrified that it had actually poo-ed itself. It was still doing the pitiful crying and wailing...so Carrott stared at it in an evil manner through the bars of the catbox. Evil evil disdainful staring, as though he was disapproving of the spectacle this other cat was making of herself.

Carrott - he wanted everyone to think he was hard.

He then totally ruined it when we got him back in the car to take him home, by doing the pitiful wailing and meowing and crying thing again.

Carrott - he's not really hard at all.

I don't know who he was trying to fool...I mean, really. This is the cat who sucks his tail before falling asleep. The cat who likes Alex to hold him like he's a baby. Big soft cat. Big daft cat.

WEIRD SMELL.

Do you have any of those jumpers that don't smell clean regardless of how clean they are? Maybe I'm just having a hypersensitive nose, but I've just put on my khaki jumper and it smelled like wet dog. It's not wet, and it is clean. So why?

This jumper always smells some kind of odd. I'd throw it out if it wasn't so stretchy and great.

WAITING...WAITING...

Alex had an interview at 9 this morning and he said he'd call me when he was done. It's now 10.45 and he hasn't called. I'm getting nervous.

I really want him to get this job - it's only in Mosely (not far from here) and there'd be really good chance for progression. I don't see any reason why he shouldn't get it...but fingers crossed, please!!

Mmm, though. He looks great in a suit. He's all big and man-shaped, and suits really show off his great big giant man-shaped shoulders. He looks like he should be out hunting or something.

Right! I'm just going on and on and on! I shall bugger off like the bugger I am!

Ooh, one last thing. Alex supports Birmingham City Football Club. How embarrassing are my hubbys team?

T'ra chuck.

STRONG LITTLE BABY ALMOST READY TO BE BORN...

I'M COLD AND THERE ARE WOLVES AFTER ME.


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