I cannot stop cleaning.  It’s like I’ve been taken over by some super cleaning power and have become addicted to Jiff over night.  I know about nesting before you have a baby but this is extraordinary. I’m taking things to another level.  Washing, scrubbing, hoovering, dusting 24/7 – and I’m actually enjoying it.

Looking back, second time round I feel that I’ve taken pregnancy slightly more in my stride.  There’s been a little less pouring over pregnancy websites, fewer phone calls to Maternity and not so many panics about the baby not moving.  Up until now. 

Now, with less than two weeks to go, I’m slightly starting to freak out.  How on earth am I going to cope with two? Especially post C-Section and the Cub is wanting to practice his new found ‘squeeeeze’ technique, kick footballs at me all day long and then, fit in time to dote on our new tiny Cublet?  

Not helping with the newfound fear is the fact that someone has been seriously testing me and I’ve had the week from hell.  I went up to London for a few days on Monday, primarily to take the Cub for a checkup at the hospital.  Sitting in traffic I got an email from my nanny – who had taken a good few months to acquire – resigning, a record two days after she’d started.  (“Nannying was not for her and she hoped it wasn’t an inconvenience”) Seriously, two weeks before I give birth?

Ten minutes later came a parking ticket for £136 and then the final nail in the coffin, we turned up at the hospital and guess what, the appointment had been cancelled. 

On the positive side, things could only get better.  My wonderful friends threw me the most sensational baby shower full of cupcakes, rose petals and pink champagne and sent me home laden with new bunny suits, cashmere booties and star printed swaddles to wrap the new arrival in.

We are now home and settled.  The changing table from the Little White Company has just arrived and the cot has been built.  Not knowing the sex has meant decorating the room’s been hard.   For now I’ve bought hundreds of starry wall stickers and we have cut up and framed pictures from our favourite books we’ve collected in charity shops.  Sophie Dahl’s Man with the dancing eyes being my fave so far…

The last thing on my to-do list is to get a present for the new one to give the Cub.  I’m thinking a mini guitar but wondering if this is recipe for disaster. He’ll either end up keeping his new small friend awake all day or he’ll use it as some kind of weapon in his fight for my attention.   Decisions decisions…

So this will be my last pre-baby post and I will be back to report on the joys of two when I am back in the land of the living.  Wish me luck, I think I’m going to need it…

I’ve been trying to be very low key and calm for the past few weeks.  Four weeks ago today, I reached the seven month marker.  The next day I went up to London for a hair do, bit of a shop and general time out from the builders from hell.  All was going well until I’d ignored my tummy ache for slightly too long and thought I’d better pop into A&E just to be on the safe side.  Four hours later, it’s 2am, and I’m strapped to every possible monitor in the Maternity Ward… it turns out it wasn’t something I ate for lunch, I was having full on, regular contractions.  Not ideal at only 28 weeks.  So for the past month I’ve been making a real effort to rest as much as possible.  

We’ve made the decision to have the baby in the John Radcliffe in Oxford, rather than come back to the Chelsea Westminster.  I’ve also been told that it’s going to be much safer for both the bub and I to have a planned Cesarean.  I was desperate to have this one naturally but would obviously rather be safer than sorry.  I’m just hoping that this time as its planned it’ll a bit less traumatic.  I’m trying to think of the positives though and yesterday even bought my first pack of new born nappies…

I’ve been thinking about what to pack in my hospital bag and have been trying to remember what I did and didn’t use and want last time.  There are so many lists on pregnancy websites that offer advice about what to pack but for me there were some things that I would have been lost without and thought I would share them with you.  

7 pairs of big black cotton knickers.  Mothercare maternity ones were my best. I bought two sizes too big and they were perfect.  Don’t get anything swanky as you’ll probably never want to see them again and throw them in the bin afterwards.

A front opening nightie.  If you’re going to be in for a while take at least three if you can.  Zara home have some beautiful Liberty Lawn ones.

An Evian water spray. For cooling as much as drinking.

Snacks.  Lots of them and preferably chocolaty based.  

Phone charger.

Your own pillow and duvet.  

Dry shampoo.

The strongest Arnica you can find.  If you can, start taking this at least a month before your due date.

A laptop with some pre-loaded very easy  to watch films on.

Cameras and chargers

At least 4 baby outfits.  Socks, a hat, warm blankets.  When the Cub was born, we hadn’t given this enough thought and only bought one very summery outfit with us, much to the amusement of the Midwives.

A baby car seat.  They won’t let you home without one.

Very loose fitting clothes for you when you leave hospital.  Sorry be the bearer of bad news but you’re not going to be fitting into your old jeans quite yet.

Kamillosan Chamomile ointment.  Miracle two in one nipple cream that works just as well on nappy rash too.

New born nappies.  Pampers get my vote.

Cashmere socks.

Muslin squares.  I had boring white ones first time round, this time I’m desperate for a pretty Aden & Anais one covered in stars. 

Lip balm and moisturiser.  My skin was drier than the dessert for some reason.

 This week is my last working one before I’m putting myself on Maternity leave.  We are shooting the last part of my book and as much as I love it, I will be so relieved to have it all over and done with without the baby having made an early appearance.  First stop on my maternity leave is to check myself into the Haybarn at Daylesford for some much, much needed R and R.  I then feel I’ll be ready to start thinking about Christmas.  And build the new baby’s cot….

I wasnt sure that it would ever get to the point where I would actually write a post from the new house in the country. But here I am, sitting in the gorgeous new kitchen tapping away. It’s been a pretty full on few weeks. I’m still negotiating my way round the last fifty boxes that are dotted around hallways, hiding in corners. As well as the boxes, we have builders. I wanted to finish decorating before Christmas and Leaf’s arrival in January so thought we should just get on with it.

 
I’m sure normally, without these pregnancy hormones flying around, I’d be quite happy and able to cope with it all. However, thanks to a nice mix of daily fighting with BT; not being able to get to the fridge through all the plastic sheeting; slipping on dust sheets every five minutes and having the Cub perma glued to my side; there have been some pretty sensational melt downs. I seem to remember the same thing happening last time around this stage.

Five months is definitely the low point my pregnancies. A lot of tears, tantrums and irrational thinking. I would like to be hiding under a nice rock somewhere for the next few weeks and wait until the six month milestone arrives. On a positive note, my scan last week was fab. We made ourselves look away when given the option of finding out if it’s a girl or boy. I quite wanted the sonographer to write it down on a piece of paper in case we changed our mind. But as Chaz pointed out, I wouldn’t have lasted longer than the walk to the car. So for now, while Im on a decorating mission, I’m still none the wiser whether to cover the little cherub’s walls in Barneby Gates’s pink or blue stars.

I’m quite concerned about my taste since being pregnant. Or rather the lack of it. I’ve started liking things that never in a million years would I be caught dead even looking at. Take this morning for example. If you read my last post you’ll know that since hitting the three month mark I’ve been making a conscientious effort not to wear tracksuit bottoms and generally look like Waynetta Slob. Quite hard when the last thing in the World you want to do is squeeze yourself into anything remotely tight. But I have been making a real effort. This morning however, things went a bit too far. Completely oblivious, I sauntered downstairs, feeling quite spritely and got a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Words cannot explain how on earth I’d managed to assemble this creation. On the top I had my, for night time only, sparkly black lurex bat wing jumper, worn over a pair of tie dye leggings that have lived unworn, unnoticed in my wardrobe for over two years. Topped off with some grey moccasin Peter Pan booties. Again they too, have never seen day light before now.

Chaz and I have always joked about how diabolical my pregnancy taste is but until now, I thought it was bit of a joke. I dread to think what the next creation’s going to be. I have just found what I think are some very cool leopard print trainers. Again, I do not normally do leopard print but these seem to be calling to me. I showed Chaz a photo of them last night and all I got was a raised eyebrow…I think I might go for it anyway.

I’ve made it past the big three month hurdle and am finally starting to feel a little more normal. For some reason, this time round, I’ve been much more wary about what I do and don’t do. What I can and can’t eat. Everyone gives the impression of being far more chilled out second time round. I annoyingly am not fitting into that bracket. Anyway, I’m trying to be less precious and get on with things as normal from now on. My doctors have assured me that everything is fine. I’ve seen her little heart beating and I’m going to stop wrapping myself up in cotton wool. My energy levels are slowly on the up and I’ve decided to ignore my quickly expanding waistline.

 
‘Comfort is key’ has never seemed more relevant to now and I’ve found myself spending slightly more time than I’d like, dressed like I’ve just come back from the gym. I can assure you I’ve been nowhere of the sort – other than to wash my hair last weekend when our shower had a meltdown. So this realisation mixed with my new energy revival, kick-started me into shopping for a new pregnancy wardrobe. Trapeze style knits and dresses are my new way forward. Over tights for winter or right now with my new, aptly named Paige ‘Willow’ skinnies from none other that the wonderful MLM. I’ve found DKNY and Zara’s new collections to be very good in this department.

 
The highlight of the week, without a doubt, has been my outing to the Agua Spa in the Sanderson Hotel. I was very kindly treated to a special pregnancy facial. I’ve had pregnancy treatments in the past but never have I felt so relaxed and so far removed from my normal life. Everything was bright white, clean and quiet. It was actually how I imagine actual ‘Heaven’ to be. Not a screaming Cub in sight and no one talking above a whisper. I literally floated home on a cloud. Via DKNY to add to my new oversized jumper collection. I’m now about to get on the train to spend the rest of the week with about ten screaming children so think I might be checking myself back in pretty damn quick on my return…

When I was small I was adamant that I wanted three children, all perfectly spaced with two years between them. When we got married and were living in France, I decided actually, six would be perfect. There’s nothing better than a big family. Since the divine Cub’s arrival, as much as I love him with all my heart, one did seem quite tempting. That plan has gone right out the window as we are now expecting numero deux. And I couldn’t be more over the moon if I tried. I am adamant she is a girl so, for the moment she is known as ‘Leaf’. Not that I’m allowed to call her this when she arrives.

 
The Cub was born in St Tropez, France in a tiny but brilliant hospital. When we were there, I longed to be having him here in England. I wanted somewhere where the midwives spoke English and my friends were round the corner. It’s only now, actually being in London, that I realise how incredible the French maternity system is. Im only 12 weeks in and have already had moments of contemplating hopping back over the Channel. By now I had had three scans and about ten check ups. For free.

 
One of the tricky bits being pregnant in France was the lack of maternity clothes. There was nothing around me selling anything remotely wearable so Im excited about all the choices I’m going to have this time round. I am a big shopper – I was a personal shopper for a couple of years – and when I’m meant to be resting when the Cub sleeps, I’m most likely to be doing a spot of online window shopping. All in the name or research of course. I’m showing much much earlier this time round and finding it a bit of a shock to the system. Last time I was still in my J Brand skinnies when I was five months. At 8 weeks this time round I was already reaching for the leggings. I’m off on holiday this week so will be heading out on my first big pregnancy wardrobe shop up.

 
This time round I’m determined to find lots of beautiful pieces that make being pregnant enjoyable and not leaving you feeling like a frumpy, oversized version of yourself. If you’re looking for anything in particular, do let me know and I’ll try my hardest to help you find it.