I’ve been sharing a lot of coffee posts lately… and you gotta understand, it’s this simple thing that has me looking forward to something, no matter how small it may be to others, lately.
But today’s morning coffee was something else.
You see, when I was pregnant (and for years before that) with baby boy and Hubbie and I would frequent our usual Wednesday brunch spot…
We’d see prams, EVERYWHERE.
Mums and prams, mums and prams. Hubbie would joke they needed more prams there because it wasn’t the most spacious cafe to begin with, and so we said once our baby arrived, we would add ours to the mix too. 🤣❤
So happily, today was the day we returned there, to have our usual Wednesday brunch, and add to the pram club. 🙏
And add to it we did. I squashed the pram between our table and another’s and I even had people get up and move when we got up to leave, so tight the front of house is!
But we were there. We came back.
We did it. We came back with our precious baby boy in tow, and if you’d been privy to all our conversations before I fell pregnant, you’d know how much today meant to us. 🥰❤
Almost a week ago I knew I had to do something different.
Something to help me get by.
Being my second pregnancy, I felt more confident and assured when it came to certain things.
The problem with knowing what lies ahead though, is just that – you know what lies ahead.
I knew labour would be hard – and it was.
I knew childbirth would be hard – and it was.
And just as some parts of recovery have been easier, including adapting to our sweet baby boy…
I know about the sleepless nights. I know how unpredictable it all is in the beginning. I know about the fatigue.
And so it was.
And so it IS.
I was mentally struggling with all of this knowledge in my haze of fatigue and roller-coaster of post-partum hormones, when I realised I had to make things better somehow.
First, I needed to mix things up at home.
Second, I needed little things to look forward to, no matter how small.
Third, I needed to train my brain to the positive, and look at more gratitude, not lack of, in the position I was in.
Fourth – I had to somehow keep score.
So, I made a ‘stronger’ list.
Tonight is night 5. Or so it will be after the night is over. In the morning when I get up, I add the date I just survived onto my list, plus a tick ✅ and then the shortest notation on how the night went. Something like “hard ’til 3am. I got through” or “slept between feeds, first time!”
My goal is to get stronger with this list. As it grows and I add to it every night, I’ll be able to see that no only have I gotten through another night, but see that things do get better, easier, and they pass.
And when there is a harder night, I’ll be able to deal with it better, knowing I’ve dealt with it before.
It’s still early days, but the concept is working. I’m going into the nights a little mentally stronger, and honestly, at this stage, it means so much for my well-being.
I have so much to thank Hubbie for, but I also have other thanks to give.
I’ve had a circle of dependable people around me during my pregnancy, and most importantly, they’re still around.
Especially in this last week and a bit. My sister. My cousin. My friends. You know who you are. I’ve been up and down, had countless questions and concerns, bared my soul, and gotten nothing back but support and a ‘you can do it’ cheer squad.
It means the world, and helps me feel less alone… in the tiring moments. At the end of the day. When I’m finding it hard to grasp to anything positive in the future… these women have been my rock.
Plus, I discovered a name for the ailment I’ve had lately… lightning crotch. 😫
Insert super charged emotions.
And you have yourself a super sensitive Mama.
I have been so focused on all the good from this pregnancy, and that comes to reason since this IS a gratitude blog.
But there have been difficult parts, maybe none more so than in these last couple of weeks.
And it’s not getting any easier.
I’ve been having these lightning zaps down there, and they haven’t felt nice, let me tell you. I only discovered their name last night after my gazillionth Google search, and although attributing a name to the condition made me feel somewhat less crazy, it still hurts.
Today, moving around like a seal, very slowly and with great difficulty, I asked Hubbie to get me something while out getting the groceries.
I wanted cherry pie.
I had an insane craving for it, this cherry pie from a local cafe that I used to get every now and then. I haven’t had it in so long, and for this pregnancy I’ve had to be good, so I’ve tried to stay away from things like that that were super decadent.
But I actually could not wait anymore. I said to him, I need this, NOW, and sent him off.
That hasn’t been my only craving. My proper and first craving for a couple of weeks now has been Pancake Parlour pancakes. I am convinced if I eat these pancakes, it will prompt baby to come out sooner. It happened first time around, for baby girl. I had this most amazing stack of pancakes from there, layered with bananas and smothered all over with dripping chocolate, and I ate it the day before my waters broke.
I am convinced baby girl got wind of that in my belly and went “I’m not waiting anymore, the outside world is clearly GOOD.”
But, problem. Difficulty walking, remember? Movement like a seal. Lightning crotch. The closest Pancake Parlour is 40-45 minutes away, and I’m not doing any long drives, especially with all of my current mobility issues.
I can’t even Uber the pancakes… it would be too cold by the time it got here.
So I had to go for my second, equally satisfying craving, the cherry pie.
Hubbie and baby girl came back from shopping after an hour or so. There was NO cherry pie. Not anymore. 😲🤯Some absolute bullshit reason of, the whole pie is big and takes up room in the case, and then they need to sell all of it… well then present it so it sells! The rest of the treats on offer were all pre-packaged sweets sent in from some factory crap, and Hubbie knows I would rather open a block of chocolate at home than buy a display cake that can sit in its preservative-state like that for two weeks…
So they came back empty-handed.
I, was devastated. I wanted my craving satisfied… didn’t I deserve that much? House-bound, lightning crotch, having been so good for so long, I wanted my bloody treats and I couldn’t have them.
I was so, so upset, yet also still craving something majorly… so as I started to cry, I pulled up a stool to the stove (for the reason of preventing more lightning crotch) and started making crepes. Because only I know how to do them. 🤦♀️🙄
I sat there, and I made them, and I waited, and baby girl sat next to me, helping out, telling me it would be alright as tears literally rolled down my face. And Hubbie cut up the berries I wanted, and baby girl took out the Nutella, and then Hubbie made our coffees… so that by the time we sat down, I had this:
And I was crying no longer, but I had been very, very frustrated. I devoured two big crepes, loaded with Nutella and berries and I sipped my cappuccino, thinking “Fucking, only women get shit done.”
I was so grateful for my family for helping me out, yet insanely mad that the cafe didn’t make cherry pie anymore, and that there isn’t a Pancake Parlour within my vicinity.
THAT is the state of affairs at the moment guys. Tread around me super carefully… or just bring the Pancake Parlour chef to my house, please. (Or let me know if you find a proper home-made quality cherry pie from ANYWHERE).
And that my friends, is my very pregnant story of the full moon, lightning crotch and home-made pancakes. 🌕⚡🥞🤰