Introducing Finch Steen Magee

8.6lbs of sheer perfection and delivered in a birthing pool PAIN RELIEF FREE! Birthing story and a little insight into his name to follow. Just give us a little chance, we are still in hospital for another 24 hours.

Dear Mr Bump,

I'm trying to be patient and all, but I'd really like to meet you soon. You have a lot of people waiting who love you and are looking forward to snuggling with you. Including your beautiful big sister who will just adore playing with you (though it may take a little while for her to master this art - you'll be pretty small and sleepy and even a little grumpy at the start).

Maybe you've heard a lot of unhappy noises over the last 6 months, crying, shouting and such, but please don't let that taint your view on the great big world. Life is beautiful and quite the adventure.

So come on out and greet us, we aren't scary.

Love you,

Mum-ee.

Wartime Charm

I've kind of fallen in love with a beautiful little wartime era house up for sale 30 seconds from my folks front door. Complete with high ceilings, picture rail, old tiled fireplaces, retrotastic light features and the garden has a little apple tree (perfect for a tire swing), a blackcurrent bush and rhubarb patch!

Be still my beating heart.

Of course, I haven't even seen inside and I probably can't afford it (the house in Canada sold with relative ease, I still can't bring myself to think about it much). Anyway, tonight I am feeling excitable and unable to sleep. Excitable, even though I had my 3rd unsuccessful cervical sweep today and found out I have a Strep B infection that I could pass on to Mr Bump when he chooses to grace us all with his presence. Hence I will need to have an IV of antibiotics during labour and stay in hospital for 48 hours prior to delivery. Well, the news could have been worse and I have 5 more days till induction date (16th). It's only a matter of time now.

**amendment, I actually think it was my 4th sweep. 4th!**

Here are some lovely things:

littleblackfences

annafraser

Joettamaue

Away

Found in The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

"Come" she says looking up at me and holding up her hand.

It's one of the clearest words she says, I couldn't quite believe she was saying it at first because it was so clear, it wasn't in toddler dialect, there were no subtitles needed, just plain and simple "come!". She always says it with bright eyes, like she has a great idea and she wants me to be part of it. An invitation that's impossible to refuse.

There never seems to be any clear purpose in where we are going. I imagine if she could she would tell me 'the destination isn't the point mummy!'. She loves to run. Loves it. In any direction, so long as it's 'away'.

After a while of her guiding me I attempt to subtly take over and guide her back in the direction of the stroller or, more urgently, away from the road. She'll go along with it for a few steps and then she clues in, thrashes her arm about in an effort to release her hand from my tightening grasp and squeals for freedom.

We are standing in an expansive field, recently mown. I'm feeling very proud of myself for taking her here instead of the park, for adapting to her need to run and roam freely.

"come on!" I say with a big (and slightly desperate) smile, encouraging her to expend her energy in the wide open space before her. I skip towards the middle and do a twirl with arms stretched out wide. She pauses and looks at me suspiciously, "nu" (subtitles : no) she says shaking her head and waging her finger. She turns around and heads towards the small opening in the field, towards the road, the one place she can't go.

Tantrums ensue, eventually I pull the heavy gate over the opening and stand in the middle of the field with a banana as bate. This results in her climbing half way up the gate and shaking it screaming like a tiny enraged prisoner.

*Sigh*, why is the forbidden always so enticing? I hang my shoulders and accept defeat. I couldn't convince her father that staying within the perimeters was...better, worth it, safer, appealing... how do I teach her?

There are many times within every day that I want to run, anywhere, so long as it's away. I joked with a friend the other day that if I could cryogenically freeze my children I would throw a backpack on my back and go see South America for 6 months. But I can't. I must stay away from the road, colour within the lines. And I must tell myself on the bad days, that the grass is greenest where I am.

I've been staring around the room for the last hour trying to figure out how to finish this post. Then I noticed the little tiny handprints on the tv screen, the ones I haven't had the heart to wipe off because they warm my heart. Being here, not running but staying here in the moment with her, it makes the grass the brightest green. She will only be this little once, I don't want to miss it. I was scrolling through old journals the other night, many entries, filled with a hope that seems like it was a waste in the end. But I found this little doodle I did when molly was a squishy little newborn and filled with the awe of motherhood.

It is an honour and a privilege to be in her presence. So I'm sticking around and I'll be standing nearby whenever she holds up her hand and asks me to come with her on her latest adventure.

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**Mr Bump Update** Warning, not for those that don't want to know about cervix's and the like.

Mr Bump has still not made an appearance, I'm now one day overdue. I've had two cervical sweeps, 3 reflexology sessions, a billions baths, hundreds of cups of raspberry leaf tea, two 3 star curries and a lot of bouncing on the birthing ball. I was 3cm dilated on monday and a few days before that I thought i'd passed my mucus plug but, as of 10 minutes ago i'm thinking that was just a leetle bebe plug because I just passed the mother of all plugs! So here is hoping contractions will kick in very soon.

I'm ready to meet you mr bump!

So I made it through the 1st of July 2010. My 5th wedding anniversary. And I was ok. I woke up consumed and miserable. But I went about my day distracting myself with getting the last few things ready for the pending delivery. This morning I had a cry over my cereal, I found myself saying out loud "we didn't even make it to five years!". I wondered about posting up a wedding photo but I thought that might be a tad too self indulgent.

I have high hopes for going into labour soon (PLEASE !). July 2nd is the crossover date for mr bump to be the oldest in his year rather than the youngest so I'm very pleased with that. Well done mr bump, now HURRY UP, because I am so freaking uncomfortable and sore! I'm getting a nice wee cervical sweep in the morning. I'm a little scared but thankfully my body is too concerned with the idea of not being pregnant to care about what pain I might have to go through to get to that state.

Thank you all for the comments. I find it astounding that you are all out there reading and caring about my little life. Astounding and affirming. Cheers.

I do look forward to being able to post a few trivial little outfit posts in the future. I have been keeping myself alarmingly busy these last few weeks. A particularly fun evening was spent at the advent of Pecha Kucha Night in Belfast. Met some really interesting people and got to cheer on some friends too. If there is a Pecha Kucha in your city, I strongly encourage you to attend. Here is a little explanation as to what exactly it is.

I'm a little stuck to know what photo to post so here is just a wee snapshot of a fun night out for dinner with some top ladies. It's now 2am and I feel quite sick at the thought of being awoke by a hungry toddler in the morning (nevermind the cervical sweep) so g'night!

27

I am watching the minutes tick down till I turn 27 years old.

18 minutes.

I'm searching for some significance in the number 27....I was born 27 years ago. I have lived 27 years.

17 minutes.

I am ushering this new year in alone. There is a couple in the house opposite me snuggling and watching tv.

16 minutes.

My daughter is asleep in the room next to me. My son is inside my stomach, kicking at my ribs. Maybe that isn't alone. To be honest though, it doesn't feel like enough.

15 minutes.

I'm listening to sad music because I want to be able to contemplate this moment, not sure what I'm looking for.

14 minutes.

I'm thinking about how I feel about myself. I'm proud of myself for many things lately:

(for example, last night I camped in the mountains, with my 18 month old daughter and 8 days till

my son is due, I think that's quite an achievement)

I am in shock that I have survived the last 6 months of my life.

13 minutes.

I'm trying to remember my last birthday. I can't remember anything about it. Maybe that's a good thing.

12 minutes.

Time has started to feel like a series of hurdles I have to jump over. How many more days, months, years, till I can live in my moment again?

11 minutes.

How many more leaps till I feel 'over it'.

10 minutes.

There is little, if anything, from my past that I can recall without feeling so desperately sad. Because it all happened with a feeling of continuity. Then things so abruptly stopped. With no warning

9 minutes.

I need new memories, new hopes, new dreams.

8 minutes.

7 minutes.

Do we start out with blissfully naive ideas about life and with time we learn not to have such high hopes? Or has life been dandy and then bam, a sudden dip?? I don't really have perspective on that at the moment.

6 minutes.

I don't know what to wish for when I blow the candles out.

5 minutes.

Honest to goodness, you know what I wished for for as long as I can remember. every. single. time. I had the opportunity to wish for anything?

4 minutes.

For true love. Really. As sentimental as it sounds it really is what I always wished for. I've never told anyone that before, because I was a little superstitious about telling wishes.

3 minutes.

But I'm not sure if I should wish for that anymore. I assumed that true love was permanent. I thought I'd found it. So I either wasn't truly loved or true love isn't (necessarily) permanent.

2 minutes.

I wish to be the best I can be.

1 minute.

The best mother, daughter, friend, sister, neighbour... To be the best that I can be to myself.

I am 27 years old and I wish that I am enough.

A Breach in Self Security.

From the latest University of Ulster art show

There are so many things I wanted to say, but couldn't.

I can't be vulnerable with you and that hurts so much. You were always my person to run to when I felt vulnerable. When I was scared my friends were leaving me out, when I didn't like the way I looked, when I'd left my assignments to the last minute, again, when i thought i'd been cruel, when I found out my mum was dying....I was always running to you. Now you are the last person I can run to.

I wanted to tell you how desperately I missed you. How you are my best friend and I need my best friend. Every time I laugh, every time I cry, every time I'm bored, every time I see a movie, hear a song, hang a picture, go for a walk, every night when I get into bed, I miss you. But you can't be my refuge any longer, you are no longer safe. It's done.

I hate to see you sabotage yourself. Because I care about you and, dare I say it, Because I love you. I used to lie on your chest, listening to your heart beat and worry for how fragile you sounded. To think that your existence, would vanish if that heartbeat stopped, or at least it would to me. I remember sitting with you, squeezing your leg when you got a tooth pulled out. I saw the bright red blood trickle down your chin and it made me ache to think of your blood being spilt. the vulnerability, the fragility, of you.

Yes, it makes me furious to see you walk out on our children. But it also makes me so painfully sad, for YOUR sake. You were born to be a daddy. And you loved it, it brought you so much joy. You frequently referred to it as 'the best thing in the world'. Now the thought of them must hurt, to see a photo of our molly - it must be agony.

Of course I want her to be able to run into her daddy's arms, but I also want YOU to be able to hold your daughter. To giggle with her, to tickle her till she's sick, to teach her amazing things about blades of grass, to gaze at the stars with her. I want you to be able to hold your newborn son in your arms and beam with pride. Instead you'll be seeing a photo on the internet, you'll be one spectator in a crowd, and you'll feel sadness. That's not the way it should be.

I wish I could save you from yourself. I think, if I could, I'd stand in front of a bus to stop you, I would.