…so said my friend K 11 years ago this week, as she was lined up to babysit when Thing 3 decided to make an appearance. Ha, I said, nothing’s happening tonight, not even a twinge.
An hour later my waters broke, contractions were already well advanced and my sister was on her way over to relieve K. Thing 3, The Boy, my surprise baby arrived three hours later – four days early.
If you were to ask me how I felt during that pregnancy the answer would be – then and now – ‘worried’. How would we afford a third baby? We had decided we’d stop after Thing 2 but by the time the letter arrived from the hospital to tell my beloved to make an appointment it was too late. We’d just got back from a week in France with my parents, and we’d had to stop six times between Calais and Caen for me to have a wee – my period wasn’t due for another two weeks so it was too early to test, but I knew. I was almost 37, working full time and with a three year old and a one year old already. The positive test result was not a surprise.
I was on antidepressants, so they got me off those. The 12 week scan was normal but the blood tests came back with high risk of Downs Syndrome, so I had CVS testing which came back with good news but also the news that this little pudding was going to be a boy – which really was a surprise, after his daddy had produced four girls. I refused to believe it completely until he arrived! I was referred to a consultant – despite being ludicrously healthy, with no problems in my previous two pregnancies. Each time I saw the consultant or his registrar I asked why I was seeing them and got a different answer every month – none of which were very helpful and I never saw the same person twice. They kept sending me for scans which were all normal, they decided to send me for the blood glucose test much later than they should have done (also normal), and the only result was that I became more and more worried. At 36 weeks I got cross and demanded that I was signed off by the consultant as otherwise I wouldn’t be able to have the baby in the birthing centre (as it happened he was a labour ward baby as they were so busy that night – we were the last ones in before they closed the ward to new arrivals).
He was probably the easiest of all three of the Things – apart from not sleeping anywhere but on me at night for his first few days which meant I got no sleep at all. I think this is often the case for third babies as they basically have to drag themselves up. I probably enjoyed his babyhood more because I didn’t get post-natal depression this time round, and he went onto a bottle at 12 weeks as I couldn’t keep up with his feeding.
And now he’s 11, went off to his first Scout camp yesterday (OK, his dad went to get him at 11pm as he was homesick for the cats apparently) and is off to secondary school in September. No more school runs (I have only really done these on a regular basis since lockdown so the novelty has yet to wear off!) where I have to brace myself for a hug as he launches across the playground at me. He’s nearly as tall as me now, with longer hair and a nice line in snark – can’t think where he gets that from. He’s still my baby though.
In other news….
I’m also working on the Neon Pikachu (still), yet more pigs in blankets, and another unicorn… work truly is the curse of the crafty classes.
But first, the ironing!
What I’ve been reading:
Something to Hide- Elizabeth George
Self-help for the Bleak – Rich Hall
1979 – Val McDermid
Doctor Who: The Ninth Doctor Novels (Audible)
Running Tracks – Rob Deering