Right on Time!

As soon as I found out I was pregnant, I (like millions of other women) immediately (and excitedly) calculated my due date.

Baby’s due date was August 31st. I was, to be honest, a little disappointed. I checked to see if I’d made a mistake. I checked to see if there was any way I could change my due date to September 1st!

Yes. School cut-off dates. Yes. Many people thought I was (and still am) mental. No one else seemed to think that being the youngest in the class would be a disadvantage. In fact, many thought I was being a bit silly and that it didn’t matter at all. But it does matter. I’ve SEEN it in classrooms time and time again. And I found this article, which just proved my point.

As you probably read, because of some issues, I had to see a specialist early on in my pregnancy. When I saw the her, she told me that if I was going to have a c-section, it would have to be about ten days to two weeks before my due date. Not having a c-section actually didn’t cross my mind. I felt it was a matter of ‘better the devil you know’.

This made things more difficult. So I would definitely have a ‘young’ baby (it makes sense in my head) and I had to choose which day he would be born. How would I choose?

I spent the next few months annoying the hell out of LagosDad. Which date would we choose? Would it be a ‘good’ day? Etc. The one date that I was thinking about didn’t thrill me much as we know many children with the same birthday.

Having the baby in Dubai didn’t happen (a good thing, I think) and I saw my consultant in London at thirty weeks. I told him that I really wanted to have a September baby. He knew why immediately. He suggested just waiting to see what happened. He said we’d schedule the c-section for September 1st, unless I went into labour before, of course.

I was ecstatic. I was in with a chance of having a September baby!

I reported this latest piece of news to my parents and my in laws. Forgetting that they don’t actually give a crap and that having a September baby isn’t all that important to them. Instead my mother-in-law gave me a list of (August) dates which were ‘meant to be very lucky’. And told me that the first few days in September were very unlucky. I was livid – combine that with raging hormones and… Well you wouldn’t have wanted to see me.

My mum was in India at the time. I asked her to PLEASE go and see our pundit (priest) and ask him if there was any truth in what my mother-in-law was saying.

I’d like to say that I don’t believe in all this lucky and unlucky nonsense, but the fact of the matter is that if I can do something that may be better for my children, then I will – even if it’s reluctantly! Also, sometimes my mother-in-law’s facts need double-checking.

Anyway, so my mum came back to me to say she (my mil) was right (damn!) and that September 1st would be ok as long as it was before mid-day. Relief. I was scheduled for 8 am.

Everything was back on track. Unless I went into labour before.

On the 29th of August I was feeling like hell. My legs hurt. My head hurt. I didn’t want to move or go anywhere or do anything. I just wanted to sit in front of the television with a pile of Magnum ice creams (only the Classic kind). I went to bed early and felt much better on the 30th.

That day (the 30th), LagosDad and I went to the Lindo Wing for some blood tests. Then we went out for lunch and to run one or two errands. The next day was my due date, but this baby was going to stay in until September 1st!

Alas, I was wrong.

Lots of (possibly unwanted and too much) information coming your way now – so you may not want to read any more.

I woke up on the 31st morning and needed to pee (for the millionth time). And I saw that I was bleeding. I knew I’d bleed a bit, but I didn’t realise it would be quite that much. I nearly had a breakdown (in private). My first thought (and I’ve not told anyone this) was that there was something wrong with my baby. All I could think about was the bleeding at the beginning of the pregnancy. Once I snapped out of it, I figured that my waters had broken.

I woke LagosDad and my mum. I rang the hospital to tell them I was coming in. And it was during that conversation that I realised that my waters hadn’t broken before. I knew that because they broke during the phone conversation!

I was a little concerned about a few things. All my fault for leaving it so late – but I was going to shave my legs and have my bikini line done, as well as get a mani and pedi that day. I even thought I’d try and fit in a blow dry!

How could I go to the hospital and have people see me when I hadn’t ‘groomed’ myself?! I was so embarrassed! Apparently, according to the midwives, they’d seen worse – so I was ok. Phew.

They monitored baby’s heart rate and everything was fine. My consultant came in to see me and said we could still wait and see what happened.

It was about half past eight in the morning. How long did he think I was going to wait? I hadn’t had any contractions. I didn’t feel anything really.

So I decided, if the baby wanted to come that day, he was coming. Whether we I liked it or not. And I told the doctor to take him out.

Vinay was born by emergency c-section on his due date. Everything happened fast that day. People were rushing around. With Varun, it was very different. Everyone was so relaxed and laid back. I found myself wondering why it was all taking so long and trying not to twiddle my thumbs (in between bouts of throwing up because of the anaesthetic).

Once he was born (9.41 am), my mum and my in laws all said that he was born on a very, very lucky day. It was Ganesh Chaturthi. I had to accept that this was a good thing!

One thing though… And I asked LagosDad about this… See he, his brother and his dad all have terrible time-keeping skills. What’s worse than terrible? Whatever it is – it’s worse. So what I wanted to know is, if all three of them are ridiculously late for everything, how come both his sons arrived right on time?


Enjoying It

Baby V is nearly two months old now. In fact, now that I look at the date, I see he’ll be two months old tomorrow.

He’s growing fast and really is quite adorable. Even at four in the morning (sometimes).

A few weeks ago while we were having a chat (yes, Baby V and I), my mum asked me if I was ‘enjoying him’. I was a bit confused by the question. He’s a baby, of course I’m enjoying him. But when I went to sleep that night, I started to think about what she had asked me (I really should have just gone to sleep – God knows I get so little of it these days!).

When V was born (V1. Big V. I never know what to call him.) I didn’t have to think about anything apart from him. Sometimes I took him out with us, sometimes I left him at home with a babysitter (I’m talking about when he was a newborn – before we went back to Lagos when he was twelve weeks old). At the time I’m sure I agonised over every decision, but looking back on it – I literally had nothing else to worry about. Apart from going back to Lagos with a baby and how to deal with a whole host of different issues.

And this time?

Apart from (again) agonising over all the usual baby decisions – Should I bathe him if he had a bath yesterday? Should I wake him for a feed? Will that rash go away? Is it because of the baby products? Should I change the products? Well, they were good enough for his brother, why shouldn’t he use the same? (By the way, it turns out I did need to change the products) Never ending.

I’ve been worrying about V1 as well. How is he coping? Is he getting enough attention? Have I told him to stop talking too many times today? Is he watching too much television? Is he settled in nursery? Why won’t he eat anything apart from chocolate? Why is he having another meltdown? Have I got all his school uniform for when we go back? Is he missing too much? Will all the other kids be fully settled? Why won’t he leave the house? Why does he want to wear the same bloody vest every day? Why is he obsessed with buying toys? And on and on and on.

Baby V hasn’t had his eight week vaccinations yet. Because of that I don’t want to take him on the bus and have people breathe all over him. So anywhere we go – we walk. There and back. Because of that I can’t always take V1 because he can’t manage the long walks. The nanny is here and being super helpful – but she can’t handle both children (and I wouldn’t want her to) at the same time. So one of them has to come out with me at all times. To be honest, it’s easier to take Baby V. Mostly because he doesn’t talk! But it means I have to walk whether I want to or not. It’s much easier now that LagosDad is here (after being away for six weeks). V1 and he are busy doing all sorts of things from Lego to errands in Marks & Spencer. Basically, what I’m complaining about is the logistics and having to think everything through three times before committing to a plan! It’s not a big deal – it’s just something I have to get used to!

In addition, whenever I’ve been to London before or gone to Dubai, I’ve lived with my parents. Even when V1 was born. Now we are renting the flat we are in. LagosDad hasn’t been here much and things I’ve never had to do have come up. I realise that these are small things – but these are things that I’ve never had to do before… Reading gas and electricity meters and paying the bills. Paying council tax bills. Paying Internet, cable TV and phone bills.

Being able to pay everything online makes it all so easy – but it’s just extra things to think about!

It’s all been a bit overwhelming – but not unmanageable!

In spite of all that, I’m trying to convince LagosDad to let us stay here until Christmas. But he’s not having any of it.

While I’m stressing myself over everything (as usual (I’m a worrier, I have to face it)), I have to admit that I don’t enjoy everything about motherhood. I don’t enjoy waking up at four am. I don’t like that I’ve not had a chance to catch up on some of my favourite TV shows. I don’t enjoy changing dirty nappies and being vomited on.

But, I love my Baby V (and my Big V). I love talking to him and getting a reaction. A coo or a smile. I love massaging and bathing him. I love kissing his nose and counting his toes. Looking at him melts my heart.

So yes, I am enjoying him.

And I wouldn’t swap places with anyone. Unless, of course, they had five nannies.



A Day Out

I’ve been feeling so guilty about not spending any time with V (and about all the negative attention he’s been getting) that I decided to take him out yesterday. Luckily my mum is still here and was able to watch Baby V for the day.

I collected him from nursery and took him out to lunch on the High Street.

Lunch on the High Street







We took the bus from St John’s Wood, went down Baker Street, Oxford Street, Regent Street and got off at Piccadilly Circus and walked through Leicester Square.  Leicester Square has become such a dump! Or has it always been that way? Maybe I was too young/drunk to notice?

We walked past Cafe de Paris…







Ahhh… The (very hazy) memories! I hate to think about how much money I spent on disgusting Bazooka Joe shots!

Anyway, we finally reached our destination…

London Transport Museum





I hadn’t been to Covent Garden in years. I forgot how much I loved going there. I was desperate to wander around, but V was having none of it!

V was in heaven. He was surrounded by buses!








And their wheels!








And he got to ‘drive’. He couldn’t ask for more!

20141002_143112 Driving

One Month

So, it’s been a month.  A month and two days since I’ve been a mum of two.

I’ve wanted to update my blog before, but I’ve not really had the time!

My mum arrived about three weeks before Baby V did and she’s still here.  She’s planning to leave next week, but I’m doing all that I can to keep her here for longer!

V2 is quite a good baby.  He feeds about every four hours.  We have good days and bad days.  And of course, good nights and bad nights.  There are nights he just won’t settle and there are others where he just passes out!

V1 has been… Ok.  That’s really the only word I can use to describe him. He’s fine with his brother. He helps me with choosing clothes and changing nappies (providing Octonauts isn’t on) and likes to feel needed.  But he has been acting out also.

While LagosDad was here, V1 was getting a lot of attention – they did a lot together.  Bus rides, Science Museum, etc.  LagosDad left on 11th September and V1 is really missing him. He wasn’t happy to start school. He wasn’t happy to go to the park. He wasn’t happy to do his Kumon, nothing.  He has given us all a very rough time. His whole attitude sucked.

He has made me so cross sometimes – but I have to just stop and remind myself… New country, new school, new environment, new sibling, no LagosDad, not as much time with Mama as before. And then I feel like a crap mum!

We’ve had a few visitors come by and see Baby V. During this time V would shout at anyone talking while he was watching TV (including the midwife and health visitor). He would also climb into my lap after I fed Baby V and ask me to burp him (gross) and stroke his hair.  Poor guy – it made me feel so guilty that I wasn’t spending enough time with him.

He’s kind of settled down now – he still has his moments, but he has become better.