Beth and Julian

I imagine every now and then, what it'd have been like to have given the kids the names we'd originally planned for them. Things would have been so different! They are, now, SO Emily and SO Adam it's hard to imagine that once upon a time when they were busy kicking away in my belly they were going to be called anything different!

Beth and Julian?

Faye and Aiden?

Chloe and Jacob?

Hannah and Michael?

Emily and Adam.

Waiting

If I had a penny (or Euro cent... need to get used to this!!) for every time someone told me I was brave to move country with a toddler and so close to the birth of my second child... well, I'd have a few more pounds to my name than I do. I did what I had to do and just got on with it. It was this or miss out on the valuable support system in those first few months of Squiggle's life, which I thought would have been silly.

However, with approximately seven short weeks of pregnancy left, things are becoming intense. Months ago, knowing that I had about five weeks to prepare for this baby once the container arrived with our belongings from the UK seemed enough. But when you're this close to those last five weeks and you're worn out and so constantly uncomfortable that you can barely get any sleep and Braxton Hicks don't quite stop reminding you of what's imminent, it doesn't seem like much time at all any longer.

And yet I feel that it hasn't yet dawned on me that I'll soon have a newborn. The kicks are real (you want to watch that video!!), we have finally settled on a name for Squiggle, and we marvel at the way he reacts to Emily's voice and her very touch on my belly... And yet, it's all fuzzy as if embedded in a cloud light years away.

Then I realise that by this time last pregnancy, all Emily's clothes were washed and waiting in her perfectly planned nursery, my hospital bag was packed (and had been unpacked and repacked several times), NCT classes were well under way, the Moses basket was waiting for her arrival. I had daily visual reminders. This time, so far, nothing.

And as much as it started out much easier than my last pregnancy, this one is ending very differently. So a part of me just wants the discomfort to end. I wish this baby would decide it's fine to be born really early (as long as he's healthy and all that), but the other part of me kicks that first part because I cannot be thinking it. I need time to prepare for this baby. I need to find some time to allow it to feel real. To go through the preparations, the nesting, the caring, the excitement. Because thus far, I feel a little bit like a surrogate mother. And apart from the fact that it hurts me on a level I can barely begin to understand let alone explain, I feel like I owe this little boy quite a bit more than that.

Ten days to the estimated arrival date of our belongings... Come on, we can do this. 

[image credit]

Leaving, And Then Arriving

Well hello.

Um.

I don't know where to start really.

We did it. We moved. It was hard leaving England. Really hard. There were goodbyes to be said. Difficult, heartwrenching goodbyes. There were tears (many tears), long embraces and promises made.

The packers turned my perfectly organised life upside down. They combined things in boxes that should never have been put together. More tears. They packed Emily's dummy. Lord only knows where that ended up. I am not looking forward to unpacking. When our things arrive, I may just bury my head in the sand.

Then the house was empty. It was hollow and sad. Emily was confused, she hated the boxes and especially hated the fact that her toys kept disappearing. I couldn't walk into the living room without tears threatening again. I guess that's where we really did all our "living" - memories of us moving in, building furniture on that first Christmas Eve in the house, preparing for our wedding, opening wedding gifts, Emily as a newborn, Emily growing up, it all happened in there. Everyone says the memories stay with you, which is true - they do, but saying goodbye to those walls still slightly killed me.

We lasted for a day with nothing much in the house. Emily slept in a borrowed travel cot in our old room, we slept on the futon in the spare room.

And then it was time to leave. Ouch.

This was our final glimpse of the house as we closed the door. More tears.

The further away from Rochester the taxi got, the easier it became to breathe. That evening, the British sun bid us a beautiful sunset farewell and every minute that passed, it all got a little bit easier.

Arriving in Malta wasn't without it's potential disasters. A suitcase missing upon arrival - especially when you're moving country and have therefore packed all your essentials (in this case, David's suits, shirts, shoes for work on Monday) - is not a welcome anyone wants. Luckily however, it was returned a few hours later (someone had picked it up by mistake) and disaster was averted. We could finally relax and that was when it truly felt like we had arrived.

So, you ask, how are we settling in? It's going well - very, very well. I'd say we've settled far quicker than we could ever have imagined. Emily, despite initially being a bit confused as to why Daddy would go to work when we're in Malta, has adapted amazingly. She loves having so many people around her, loves the attention, loves being able to have Daddy read her stories and put her to bed at night. We are all happier, more relaxed, and generally I think we already know we made the right decision in moving back.

Pregnancy-wise, Baby Boy has a new name (which I'm not divulging until he's born this time), he is head down and looking like he may be a big bundle. We have a scan booked to finally find out whether my placenta has moved out of the way or not, have registered with the hospital and are beginning to feel like we understand the Maltese health system a little bit more! Time will tell.

(30+3 bump!)

So there you have it - a very quick recap of what's been keeping me away from you lovely people. I will update again tomorrow with some more pictures to make you all jealous of the weather we've been greeted with (I've never been so glad to have avoided English snow in my life!!!) xx

Naming Squiggle

I received a press release about baby names the other day. Apparently, these were the top twenty UK baby names for 2012, according to babynames.co.uk:

Ethan, Eva, Leo, Dylan, Jacob, Oliver, Noah, Ella, Alfie, Amelia,
Mia, Isla, Max, Charlie, Alice, Joshua, Jack, Oscar, Isabella, Imogen

Colour me relieved to see Emily didn't make an appearance in there this year, after being 5th in 2011. FIFTH! I don't regret calling her Emily at all, but I know she'll complain about being one of so many down the line. Then again, she'd have complained had I named her Philomena too (no it was never an option) so I guess I could point that out to her when she does. 

We have settled on a name for Squiggle. Want to know what it is?

Did you catch it? :) It's not a common name in the UK, but it's listed in this popular baby names in Malta list (which is, admittedly, quite long). Still, I don't think it should be a huge issue. 

While looking up that last link, I came across this... Names from Malta. It made me giggle. I can appreciate that some of those "names" may sound beautiful to a foreigner, but fellow Maltese... can you imagine naming your child Addolorata, Marsa or Xewqa?!


[Edit Jan 2013: I don't mean to be difficult, but the name has since changed. It will be announced once he's born ;)]