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When Stockings aren’t Sexy!

On our return flight from Italy last weekend, the Italian, again, booked me in for wheelchair assistance.

It was once we had passed controls and had been taken through all the secret passage ways of the airport to reach the gate that the Italian asked me “Amore, hav’a you got ur’a stockings on?”.

The assistant shot us a glance. I had forgotten to put on my DVT (Deep Vein Thrombosis) tights under my leggings which was one of my GPs conditions of flying so late into the pregnancy. I nodded a no.

Once the wheelchair was settled in pride of place at the front of the queue, the Italian parked Bambina in her pram next to me. He then started shuffling in the bag and pulled out one rolled up pair of DVTs.

“No!” I whispered to him “I can’t put them on now, I can’t reach my knees let alone my feet! AND I haven’t shaved my legs for about two weeks!”.

As fast as I could blink the Italian had whipped my shoe off and had the right leg of my legging rolled up. Now, anyone who’s ever worn DVTs will know that they are massively restricting and not that easy to get on.

As the Italian struggled to get the first stocking over my toes, I noticed that the two ladies sitting in priority boarding opposite us were breaking out into fits of giggles. Obviously this made me laugh and the Italian struggled even more.

Once the tight stocking was forced over the toes, the Italian went into combat with the swollen ankle! Once passed that, he took in a deep gasp of air and forced the rest of the stocking up my leg before pulling down my legging and replacing the shoe. He let out a gasp.

At this point the two ladies were in hysterics and I could hardly see for the tears streaming down my face. Bambina was joining in with the comedy by providing her I don’t know what you’re laughing at but ill provide a fake one just to join in! type of laugh.

As the Italian lifted the left leg of my leggings, with the second DVT stocking in his hand, he turned to the two ladies and said “I can’a see’a the headlines’a now: DVTs save heavily pregnant woman from clots while husband dies of a heart attack from putting them on!!”.

As I squirmed my second swollen ankle into the stocking, the Italian gave a final heave-ho and it was done! Battle won. Game over.

Have you had any embarrassing flight tales? Do share.

X-O-X

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Posted by on November 3, 2012 in London

 

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Big Baby

I think it’s quite normal for a second pregnancy bump to be huge. I am huge. I feel huge. I think I look huge. In comparison to when I was expecting Bambina, I swear it looks like I’m carrying a football team!

A few weeks back I had to see my consultant about making a decision between a natural (give me drugs!) vaginal birth or another c-section.

Bambina was twelve days late so I was induced. Three times. It didn’t work. Eventually my waters were broken and although I had been having contractions, nothing else happened. The Italian almost electrocuted me from playing with the knobs on the TENS machine but nothing else happened. After twenty hours, I had dilated two centimetres. After a further six hours I had dilated an extra centimetre and retracted to two again.  I also had an allergic reaction to the epidural.

I was insistent I didn’t want an epidural, or pethadine, or a c-section. I had all of it. I was exhausted. I don’t recall the c-section that well, except for my legs convulsing so much that they had to strapped to the table. I don’t recall seeing Bambina that well for the first time. I just remember a blurry image of white, whether that was the towel she was wrapped in or her still covered in mucus, I don’t know.

I don’t want that experience this time around. Bambina was stuck in the birth canal as she was so huge, 10lb 4oz. The consultant thinks that this baby could be bigger given the size of me now at 29 weeks.

So, I was offered a helping hand or the chance to go it alone. If your hand is willing to help me, I’m ready to bite it off! C-section it is.

I’ve just had a GTT (Glucose Tolerance Test) to measure the amount of sugar in the blood.  This is not just for determining pregnancy related diabetes but can also be a guide as to why some mothers deliver whopping babies.  My gut feeling is that my glucose is absolutely dandy.  If you saw the Italian and his father, they’re not exactly small framed people so I think that any baby that I have will be on the large-boned side of big.  Nevertheless, I did the test and we’ll see what happens.

As I’m now on countdown with only 10 weeks to go, I’m actually looking forward to the c-section this time. I know the date, I know the plan, I know I won’t be in pain (ish).

I know that my big baby will arrive in to the world, happy, healthy and huge!

The countdown begins… !

Was your baby a whoppa? Tell me everything!

Foto

 

 
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Posted by on October 19, 2012 in London

 

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The Big “C”…. Again!

I’ve been having a semi break from blogging recently, just too much important stuff going on.

I mentioned a while ago in a post for Clic Sargent that my mother in law had beaten the odds and recovered from Colon cancer fifteen years ago. Two years ago, the day before our wedding, she was diagnosed with breast cancer and after a two-year haul through chemo and radiotherapy, she beat that too!

However, the demon that is the “Big C” is determined for her to lose the fight as it has reared its ugly head once more. Three times?! How unlucky can one woman be?!

After a well deserved trip to Liguria a few weeks ago, my in-laws returned home with my mother in law complaining of headaches. The man of the house surely sent her off to bed with an aspirin and a hot water bottle thinking it was the change of weather having an effect.

The next morning my mother in law couldn’t stand. She had lost the use of her legs and all sense of balance. The headaches had worsened.

Numerous tests and cat scans at the hospital ensued and then the phone rang. My father in law, through choked back tears, told the Italian that the doctors had found three, not one, but three tumours on his mothers brain. We were stunned! Again? All this, again?!

As soon as you hear the words cancer and brain in the same sentence you automatically think negatively. The Italian, in his panic, wanted to get on a flight straight away but what could he do?

He is in the fifth week of a new job, I’m seven months pregnant and we live in another country. The feeling of uselessness is incredible.

I can’t begin to imagine what my husband is going through right now. I can’t imagine what my mother in law is going through right now. She’s sorry for the grand children, she said. Sorry for the grand child that I hope and pray she gets to meet in a few months time.

But that’s it isn’t it, time. Time. Far more precious than we give credit for.

I pray for time to stand still while the doctors do their tests. I pray for the time to hurry up while the doctors get the results and do something . I pray for time so that my mother in law meets her newest grandchild and that Bambina gets to kiss her Nonna again. I pray for time that my husband gets to say goodbye to his mother properly, if that’s what it comes to.

I pray that time will heal her… Again.

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Posted by on October 18, 2012 in Italia

 

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The Gift

So, yesterday, D-Day, I met with the consultant from Kings College to discuss the options of non-Down Syndrome screening.

I didn’t really know what to expect from her. I probably expected her to try to fob me off with rubbish or excuses. She didn’t.

The Dr was extremely frank, woman to woman. She thought I was a drama queen. I probably have been. She thought I was right to create a fuss. I know I was. She said my odds of having a Down Syndrome child, without having any screening tests at all, were extremely low. Lower than with Bambina. Based, purely on my age group and the overall healthy growth of the new addition!

After a few shed tears of relief, I hugged the life almost out of her and said my thank you’s. She said “now go home, have a cuppa and a huge slice if cake because you’re going to be very busy after that…bonding with your new son or daughter”. As she reached out to hold one hand, she looked me in the eye reassuringly, “just like your first one, this child truly is a gift!”.

Let the bonding commence…

I would also like to end this post by saying a massive thank you to everyone who showed concern, offered support and gave truly kind words. I really do appreciate it from the bottom of my heart! Mwwah!

*Foto my own.

X-O-X

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Posted by on September 21, 2012 in London

 

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Quandary of a Working Mother

Today was my worst nightmare.

As I sat plugging away at gaping holes in my work schedule, my phone rang. The Italian, in a trying to stay calm tone, informed me that they were in the ambulance but all was ok.

Ambulance?? As he had reached for Bambina’s sippy cup, she had wriggled out of the high chair harness and went for an Olympic gold at floor diving, crashing her head into a marble floor. It took all of twenty seconds to happen but twenty seconds too long.

I gasped a breath. My daughter was in an ambulance on her way to hospital and I was on my way to an “appointment”. My mind raced. What should I do? I had always imagined my immediate reaction to such an incident would be to down tools and go straight home. To my surprise, I found myself in a quandary.

Go home, immediately my conscience told me. Yet, I reasoned with myself that this was the first of many falls and I can’t run home every time. So, I stayed put plugging away at my gaping holes of priority lists.

Then I had an attack of guilt. I had left my poor injured child to go it alone when she needed me!. Am I such a bad mother that I don’t put her at the top of my priority list?

I reasoned again that she wasn’t alone. She was perfectly fine, with her daddy. Perfectly safe, with her daddy. No, I’m not a bad mother for not rushing at every whim. Yet, I do wonder why I didn’t fall immediately into panic mode. Perhaps my motherly instinct told me that the Italian was right, all was actually ok. Bambina was alright, a minor bump to the head but still intact enough to give Dolly a finger-wagging telling off. It was probably Dolly’s fault anyway.

As a first time mum, a working mum, it’s difficult to find the right balance. What I came to accept today is that my decisions may not always be the right ones, that I need to let go of the control reigns a bit more and hand them over, without question or judgement, to the Italian.  That I can’t split myself into various forms in order to be everywhere and do everything that might be expected of me, or that I might expect of myself.

How do you do it? How do you find the balance between work and home? I’m sure the answer is practice and that’s what I’m intending to do.

It’s a topic that’s new to me and one that I’m sure I’ll always be in a quandary about.

X-O-X

*Credit

 
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Posted by on July 16, 2012 in London

 

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My Boobs are BRAvellous!

Lately, I have been getting slightly involved in charity work. Which, I must confess, was never my intention when I started blogging. It hadn’t even occurred to me to be honest with you. Yet, my little blog has taken another angle. I’m still the Italian’s wife, I’m still Bambina’s mamma but I’ve found a little something that gives me a fire in the belly. For this reason, I am planning to self-host my blog so that I can dedicate a whole section of “La Mia Bella Vita” to things that I as a person, not a wife, not a mother, like and that includes my little charity endeavours. Watch this space.

I have thoroughly enjoyed being involved in the Blog it for Babies, Save the children, campaign. I have absolutely adored being a co-founder of the Blogging4Madeleine campaign with the very talented A Mummys View.

And I am already, so so so so excited about my new little venture, in support of Dirty Laundry and Breakthrough Breast Cancer.  Dirty Laundry is the brainchild of Sharon Holland Taylor. It’s a stage production covering one woman’s effort to strive for a fulfilled future after recovering from breast cancer. Along the way, she receives support from an unexpected source.  Check out the Dirty Laundry link above for more details.

Breakthrough Breast Cancer are attempting a Guinness Book world record for the longest chain of bra’s.  Each bra representing a donation from a woman who gives a toss about her knockers!

And so, without further ado, Ladies and Gentlemen, I bring to you BRAvellous!!

You might want to know why I’m a bit obsessed with my melons.  I’ll tell you.  My gran died of cancer.  A few years ago my aunt had a mastectomy.  Last year, the day before my wedding whilst we were all sitting at lunch, my mother-in-law answered a call from the doctor who rang to confirm that she had a 5cm tumour in her right breast.  What was worse, as if it could get worse, was that her mother, my husbands 90-year-old grandmother, was already fighting breast cancer.

After living through the chemo, the radiotherapy, the steroids, the hair loss, the wigs (that was actually quite amusing!), I know first hand how it feels to live with the fear.  The fear that the treatment won’t work, the fear that the cancer will win, the fear that my daughter who was then in my belly would never meet her Nonna or great-Nonna.  It fills me with sheer delight to report that both women won! They fought hard and stomped all over that disease and lived to tell the tale.

To support Breakthrough Breast Cancer, I would love for you to join in my linky and write a post about what your boobies mean to you!  And this doesn’t have to be just from a woman’s point of view! Men, Dad’s, write a post of about your wife’s boobs, have they changed over the years, what was your involvement in the breastfeeding routines etc etc – boobs are for everyone, right?

There’s something else. I need your bra’s!!  Yep, YOUR bra!.  A new one, an old one, a used one (you know, the ones that have gone a bit grey in the wash that you stuff to the back of the draw as a last chance saloon, yeah, that one).  Any bra.  I’ve not yet figured out the best way to get the bra’s from you but bear with me…details to follow.  Your bra will then be a very important link in a very important world record chain to break breast cancer!

In your post, it would be great if you could:

♥ Link back to Dirty Laundry and Breakthrough Breast Cancer (and Tea&Biscotti if you’re feeling generous!)

♥ Tell us what your boobs mean to you

♥ Tell us about your bra’s: with bra? without bra? big bra? small bra? matching bra? not matching bra? You get the picture!

♥ You could even take a picture of the bra you are going to donate!

♥ And finally, make sure you upload it to the linky so that everyone can get familiar with your coconuts!

♥ Feel free to use (copy) the very bad example of a badge that I made (above) – (sorry, it was a very shoddy effort)

Admit it, fewer things in life feel better than taking your bra off at the end of a long day!

You heard it here first… BRAVellous….coming soon to a blog near you!

X-O-X

Related Articles:

Mother Knows Breast #1

Mother Knows Breast #2

Mother Knows Breast #3

The C Word

*Picture credits to www.victoriasecrets.com via Pinterest.

 
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Posted by on May 7, 2012 in Uncategorized

 

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