Monday, September 21, 2009

Baby Bonanza

Just so you know, if you plan on moving to Dublin at any point, you have to have a child. Even if you have a child or 4 already, you have to have another one. It's the rule here. Seriously. Ask anyone. If you live in Dublin it is a requirement that you have at least one baby while living here and invest in at least one Bugaboo. If you don't spawn, they make you leave. This happened to some of my friends, they had to leave. It was sad.
Not so much a blog, as a public service annoucement. I thought you needed to know. Remember. Dublin = babies. Many, many babies.

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Not for Ninnies

Ok, so when exactly does the angst stop? The worrying, I mean. It doesn't, does it? Just tell me... I can take it... it's not going to end is it?
The funny thing is, I'd guess that most people who know me - be it very well or not much at all - would use 'relaxed' or 'care-free' as one of the adjectives to describe me... Or they WOULD have prior to arrival of my son. That's what's changed, you see, I became a mom. And now I worry.
I worry all the time - about absolutely everything. I worried through the first trimester of the pregnancy, prayed and hoped that I'd get through those 13 or 14 weeks that would then make the pregnancy 'safe'. I got through those weeks (thank God) and then became obsessed with my doppler. That poor little guy. I swear I was listening for his galloping little heart beat 2 or 3 times a day... then a few weeks later he started moving a lot and I could feel him and ... I relaxed ... for about 5 minutes... because then he wasn't moving ENOUGH... so out came the doppler again ... gallop gallop gallop... fine ... phew relax... Then I got really, really pregnant and he was moving non-stop, growing ... phew ... relax. Then he was too big and I had to be induced... terrified.... induction didn't work... worry worry worry... C-section...
BABY. A healthy, kicking, screaming, purple-faced little person who was not shy about expressing his annoyance at being disturbed and unceremoniously removed from warm, comfy home... Phew... relax... Happy mommy.
Ok, I thought, now I can stop worrying. He's fine. He's healthy.
WRONG. Then I worried MORE!
A baby? Who knows what the hell to do with a new baby? I mean how do they work? Man did I worry. I didn't think I would manage. In fact, after about 3 nights at home I insisted on being rushed back to hospital because I thought he couldn't breathe. Wrong. He was fine. "Is this your first baby?" asked the somewhat bemused Doctor. Yes. First baby. Worried. He had a slightly blocked nose. Whoops.
Now he's 14 months old and, um, thriving. Ok he's enormous. He's an 83cm, 13 kg, walking, babbling marvel. Still I worry. He sleeps too much. Worried. He isn't sleeping. So worried. He won't eat. Worried. He's hoovering down vats of food. So worried.
So this is it now, I guess? I just spend the rest of my life being terrified and worrying. I tell ya, being a mommy is not for ninnies. But, man, is it great.