What I gave Fin for our anniversary


I think Fin likes his anniversary present. Funnily enough, he gave me exactly the same thing.

Our baby girl arrived on Friday morning, just over six weeks early thanks to complications from the appendicitis. She's still being cared for in hospital but doing so well. I'm home and healing.

When Fin and I got married, my heart was light as air. Today it is full, heavy, bound completely to another tiny fluttering heart that is beating a couple of miles away from me. The last few weeks and days have been overwhelming in every way and I have no doubt I would have crumbled long ago if it weren't for Fin. After exactly four years of marriage, I have never felt as grateful to have him as my husband as I do at this moment. My daughter and I are two lucky girls.


MY DAUGHTER.


I think my heart just popped.

Ouch


You know what's more fun than a kidney infection? A kidney infection that is not, in fact, a kidney infection but actually secret appendicitis! Wheee!

By the time I was rushed in for emergency surgery, after a month of feeling increasingly not so hot, my appendix was officially "obliterated". That's the word the consultant used in my notes. It was so far gone, he couldn't even find any bits of appendix left, just rampant infection as far as the eye could see. Of course, being a day shy of 31 weeks pregnant added a layer of spice to proceedings. The moment the doctor told us there was a significant risk the baby would need to be delivered while I was being operated on was memorable.

And yet, here we are, nearly two weeks later. One appendix out, one baby still in. It's a sturdy little thing, it seems. Its mother, not so much.

I'm beginning to feel like the punchline of some great cosmic joke. Losing a parent in pregnancy isn't enough, I have to lose a random internal organ as well? Can't I just get fat ankles and haemorrhoids like any normal pregnant person?

Hopefully this will be my last unsolicited medical update for you, and normal service consisting of meandering rants, impractical shoes and dogs in silly hats will resume shortly. At some point, there may even be a baby. There bloody better be, after all this.


Panni Malekzadeh, 'Feelings', 2012 via The Morning News

#bourgeoismiddleclassdouchebagblogpost


The second most middle-class moment of my life occurred last night.

My pregnancy yoga instructor, in attempting to help us to calm our swirling thoughts, encouraged us to picture ourselves as "coffee grounds slowly settling to the bottom of a cafetière."

PREGNANCY YOGA. CAFETIÈRE METAPHORS. Good grief.


In case you were wondering, the number one most middle-class moment of my life was the time I googled "Can dogs eat quinoa?"

(They can.)


Karolina Kurkova shot by Norman Jean Roy for Tatler Russia May 2014. Title inspired by this post of yore, which I really should repost over here sometime.

Well that was fun



This past weekend, Fin, Smidgen and I were meant to be going on a very glamorous caravan trip to Pitlochry. Instead, I spent four days and three nights in Greece, soaking up the sweltering temperatures, being waited on hand and foot and barely getting out of bed the whole time.

Oh, wait, did I say Greece? Sorry, I meant hospital. The other parts were true though.

Fortunately it wasn't anything too serious, although a horrendous kidney infection feels pretty fucking serious when you're in the middle of it. I'm really hoping my hospital nickname of "septic lady" doesn't catch on. The best part was that I was put on the maternity ward, because of the whole being pregnant thing (the baby was completely oblivious to my plight, by the way), meaning I spent four days of writhing agony in the company of labouring women and newborn babies, who are, of course, notoriously chilled out.

On the plus side, the midwives were absolute angels. Getting admitted to hospital is probably an extreme way to get a free preview of your future maternity care, but I liked what I saw. It's definitely an  extreme way of getting out of a caravan trip to Pitlochry. Sometimes a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

I mention this only because I've exhausted all other avenues of sympathy, but I'm still stuck in bed for 80% of the day and need entertained. At least it's my own bed I'm stuck in now.

How was YOUR weekend?

SEE ALSO:

If it's not me who's ill, it's Smidgen (a.k.a. the grossest thing I've ever posted)


Image: Greek car park from Cara's Instagram. Bet they don't charge you 6 quid to park your car there *cough* Edinburgh Royal Infirmary *cough*

Reasons I love the internet


Hello. I'm still here.

I have thoughts. I have words. I just don't seem to be able to put them on a page. Rest assured, though, I'm not lying in a puddle of sadness listening to The Wind Beneath My Wings on repeat. I'm just quietly getting on with things, "things" currently being obsessing over nappy bags and eating my body weight in cake.

I hope to find time and strength to write something more substantial soon. In the meantime, here are some reasons I love the internet, because I do (today at least).

1. The internet doesn't tilt its head sympathetically and ask how I'm really doing. I appreciate this.

2. The internet does, however, send me wonderful little gifts. Like a beautiful pair of earrings and a lovely wee card and bottomless support, courtesy of a private parenting group thing that I'm in. The kindness of internet friends continues to astonish me.


3. Remember last year when I wrote a guide to eloping to Edinburgh for East Side Bride? Well, my Alabama bride got hitched! She also hired my friend Lauren (no brainer), who told me they took lots of my advice and that the wedding was - and I quote - "fantastic." It makes me so happy to have played even a teeny tiny part in the wedding of two strangers from the other side of the world. Thanks, internet.

4. And speaking of East Side Bride, this post broke my heart a little bit. Planning something happy in the midst of something sad sucks. It just does. But it helps to know you're not alone. Thanks again, internet.


5. The internet lets me imagine I am the kind of person who will spend upwards of £90 on a super stylish waxed canvas nappy bag handmade in Wales with vegetable-tanned leather handles and an organic cotton lining, when in reality I am the kind of person who will probably buy a wipe-clean rucksack thing made of recycled plastic that is half the price and comes with a free changing mat. Hey, a girl can dream.

6. I love the internet because I can blog nothing for six weeks and then, one unremarkable Tuesday evening, sit down and put some half-hearted words into the world and nobody will hold it against me. (Nobody might read them, either, but that's ok. I write for you, but I write for me more.)

7. Lastly, thanks to the internet, I now know that Badger Hair Dresser was a genuine occupation in 1891. So was Bottom Knocker. If that doesn't cheer you up, nothing will.

Tell me why you love the internet. I'm in the mood for happy tales.

SEE ALSO:


Images: 1. Glitter tags and 'hello' stamp by Perrodin Supply Co 2. Lauren McGlynn Photography 3. Forest Bags on Etsy
 

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