Urgh little mate, our boy, you’re really making my life difficult. There is no hope for me on the mobility front until you are here and in my arms, but I know you’re worth it. I know this struggle will bring you to me.
Your sister and I have been reading and singing to you this week. Your dad and she still can’t feel your kicks, which I find so odd because they are bloody ferocious. I’ve finally started compiling an Amazon wish list of all the things you need. So much has been forgotten since your sister was small. The trivial things, like what toys to buy and whether to buy muslins or bibs. I remember all the other stuff though. I even remember labour. I remember being high on gas and air. I remember swearing a lot and refusing to push when your sisters head was crowning, I remember her being rushed to NICU and feeling like I couldn’t help her. I remember the trauma and the tears but I can’t remember what brand of nappies I preferred or how long I waited until I got the wet wipes out instead of cotton wool and boiled water to wipe her bum.
I’ve been growing increasingly frustrated this week. I feel like whenever I try to speak to a doctor or a midwife I’m being dismissed or considered a nuisance. I know the NHS are struggling and I am just one person but I’m still a person who is struggling too.
We know your name now, but your daddy won’t let me tell anyone. Your sister helped us choose it and funnily enough she hasn’t told anyone either. She is so funny and excited and I know she wants to meet you as desperately as we do.
I feel fragile and emotional but stronger because of you. I feel needy but content in being solitary. I have a great urge to protect you from the world and the mess that it’s in.
People have been sending us food and we have had some support from my mum, your nanny, but there’s no denying that a pandemic puts a very harsh limit on people we can ask for help during a time that we really need it.
We have a dog Frank who will be one just before you arrive and we have already started to play him baby cries. Though we hope you like sleep more than your sister did. I’m awake at 2am writing this. Your sister has been stirring she has a bit of a cold. I can feel you waking up with me. I hope we both manage to get back to sleep soon.
My baby boy. 💙
LOVE this…..I have a son younger than my daughter as well…..when i was pregnant with MY BABY BOY (22 yrs ago) I wasnt sure how I could love 2 kids…didnt know if I had it in me….Oh how I was SO incredibly wrong….my love for my Baby Boy is so fierce it scares me sometimes…..am I a helicopter mom? yep…even tho hes a senior in college…..he is my world….As is his sister….but it is different. Im excited for you to see the difference and to know how deeply a mother son relationship grows!! Youre beautiful btw!!! Relax and enjoy this…..
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I’m definitely not enjoying it 😂 Sadly. But the excitement will come when he’s here in my arms. 💙💙 Until then we’re hanging on. Xx
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Great post! I think it’s so important to share your experience with other women who may share your experience of motherhood and pregnancy x
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Thank you lovely. I hope it resonates with someone. Xx
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I loved reading this lovely, I can’t wait to find out what your going to call your baby boy! x
Lucy | http://www.lucymary.co.uk
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Thank you beaut. I’ve done everyone’s head in with the name thing today 😂😂 Xx
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I’m sorry you’re feeling really crap. I never had smooth pregnancies either but not to the degree you are. It’ll all be worth it. Can’t wait for the big name reveal!!
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Thank you. I think it’ll be a big ‘oh is that it’ 😂🤣 Still will be funny. 💜
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This is such a sweet letter to Baby! I’m 25 weeks now and I spend all of my time talking to her like she’s already here. I’m definitely in the same boat with mobility, though. I can’t wait to move around again, haha!
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Thank you for reading. 💗 I’m 26 weeks today & I’ve been on crutches from 16 there’s nothing like it 😫
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