This wasn’t the video that I had imagined making back when I first saw the cross on that pregnancy test to tell me that I was going to be a mama-to-be again. I imagined something beautiful. I at least thought that I would have done my hair…maybe put a bit of lippy on… but no! This was the best I could do at the time. This was all that I had in my tired, sickly body to create. I say create…ha! I just ended up pointing the camera at myself one night, crying and looking very blotchy while I shared the most amazing news to YouTube Land.

Still, I watched this back today and as the tears threatened my eyes yet again… I smiled to myself. Smiled because we (me and our baby) have come so far in the short time between then and now. I can accept this for the memory now. I can accept this as part of the journey now… I don’t feel guilty anymore. The truth is, it ain’t easy growing a human and actually, I’m doin’ okay.

If you would like to follow my pregnancy, you can subscribe HERE. I ask for a lot of advice in my video’s, so  I always appreciate any advice, tips and support. It’s crazy being out here on this journey again. Lots has changed since I was pregnant with my daughter Ellenah, who is now five. The YouTube community has become my diary, bible and such a big support to me as a mama, I would love to have you join me there.

And for all of you lovely ladies who are currently pregnant, bless you! I hope you are having beautiful, glowing and safe pregnancies. For those who are currently TTC, you are in my thoughts and hopes that you are blessed soon.


Ria x















12 week scan

Tuesday 13th December 2016

Today was our 12 week scan. The official one. The one with the warm gel that they plop on my lower tummy, the gel that gets everywhere… and the prodding until we see our little ray of sunshine on the screen. The one that we should have had first.

I was ready for this one though. I had managed to drink the water. I had managed to keep it down. My bladder was full and I was ready to see my baby properly, with open, conscious eyes… Unlike through a dehydrated blur at the 9 week transvaginal scan.

I was excited, nervous…scared! The sickness was still rife so in the back of my mind, I still had that fear that I had somehow hurt my little person. I was still quite terrified that I hadn’t been able to offer up any goodness to help him or her get established. Especially when all I could keep down lately were salty McDonalds fries and all things terrible for me… and the baby. I was doing my best but I had that awful doubt in my heart that it was going to be good enough this time.

But… Just like last time, our baby proved to be much stronger than me.

We were shown the heartbeat first. That beautiful, train track heartbeat. So small but so incredible. And, I smiled hard as I looked upon this moving image of the little one growing in my tummy. I smiled because he or she chose to stay. Chose to fight to stay with me. I smiled because we were fighting for each other every day, loved each other every day, chose each other every day but had to wait so long still, to meet each other properly. I smiled because I could imagine that day.

I could imagine the warmth of my baby, nestled in my arms or laying on my chest, falling asleep to the sound of my heartbeat… The sound that it would know so well.

I could have stayed there for days watching our baby just be. I already knew that I would miss this moment as soon as it had passed. Already excited for the next scan so that we could ‘be together again’.

The baby didn’t enjoy the scan so much though. It would seem that he or she is stubborn, a tough cookie even. Refusing to move, to change positions… no matter how many times I had to wiggle, jump up and down, do a half wee, and a little bit more and then a full one. The need to cooperate obviously wasn’t a priority for our sleepy babe. With a flick of the hand to communicate disgust at being disturbed, we didn’t get very far.

Far enough to be told not to worry though… Everything is looking as it should. Everything is looking good.

And, Matt and I left as happy parents-to-be (again!)




On Monday 21st November 2016, I was taken into hospital.

It’s simple really… I needed help! I was in so much pain and hadn’t kept down food or even a sip of water in a long time. My eyes were grey. My lips were cracked. I kept crying. I couldn’t sleep. I was too hungry, starving really. My eyes wouldn’t focus. I couldn’t walk without help. I felt dizzy if I moved my head in the slightest. I was so thirsty. So much so, that when I cried I tried to keep the tears back in fear of wasting moisture. My skin was blotchy and sore from the tears. I didn’t feel human anymore.

I didn’t understand how I was still breathing and I was being a terrible mama. Numb and empty laying in bed, afraid to move as Matt made sure that Noah and Ellenah were okay. My heart was breaking apart, bit by bit. I missed them so much. I missed the way we do things. I missed the motherhood that I had loved for the past seven and a half years.

I was in trouble. I was broken. I couldn’t remember when I smiled last, from a happy heart.

All I could focus on was someone helping me to get through this. Someone helping me get back to health. Someone giving me back to my children. We needed each other. There had to be someone who could help me.

It wasn’t just the sickness. I was in such traumatic pain. I thought I was losing the little person in my body. The tiny little person who I wanted to give life. The person who I thought my body was killing, rejecting. I thought something was seriously wrong. It hurt so much. I felt like i was being butchered from the inside.

So from a couple of phone calls, a trip to the doctor, a trip to A&E, a trip to the early pregnancy unit and an internal scan later… I was sent to my cubicle on the labour ward where after days of no food or drink, I collapsed on the bed. Unaware of the midwife attaching me to an IV and unsure what was happening.

I missed the first time that we got to see our baby. I was ridiculously weak and as much as my eyes were open, I couldn’t see as far as the screen and there wasn’t much behind my eyes even if I could have. As I said, it was an internal scan. I was being checked over for an ectopic pregnancy. If i’m honest, from the moment I was advised that this was the suspected problem, I had started to say goodbye to my baby. I don’t think it showed on the outside how much I was hurting, how much I was breaking. I could no longer imagine his or her face or the life that we were going to have, all together. Every happy thought that I had allowed myself about the pregnancy up to this point had started to fade. I didn’t think that I could be any more broken than I was… but, I surprised myself I guess. An ectopic pregnancy made sense to me I suppose. I had suffered terrible pregnancy sickness with my son Noah, for my whole pregnancy…but nothing this relentless. I think I thought deep down, ‘How could a baby ever survive this?’

sickness, dehydration & hospital

Our Beautiful Baby At 9 Weeks

But… My baby was as tough as old boots it seemed. Much tougher than me. Baby had a beautiful, strong heartbeat… And was growing in exactly the right place. And in seconds, I was a little less broken. A little more ready to start fighting again. For my baby. To get back home to my perfect, little family… Where this mama belonged.

And so I did my time ‘inside’. It was bad. My hydration levels were shot. I was on the IV permanently, for three days. When I needed to pee… I had to take the fluids with me. I couldn’t shower. And, after being starved further by the midwives due to anti-sickness injections for the first twelve hours, I had to be reintroduced to food. Very dry foods. Ever had to eat dry bran flakes after not eating or drinking for days? It’s a shit show, let me tell you! It was a hard slog and it took me all of the first day to eat them.

Going home was completely out of the question.

sickness, dehydration & hospital

My selfie to my mama so that she wouldn’t worry & could see that I was still smiling (on the outside).

I had to jump through the hoops, keep the food down, not heave and I lost all of my dignity in the process, by handing over every single wee that I did. Let me tell you, walking down the hallway, past the rooms with the mama’s holding their newborns, while holding onto my IV and my bed pan wasn’t nice in any way. It was always so cold and people stared at me. I just wanted to go home.

Matt and my children visited me on the second night but it was horrible. I didn’t like seeing them sat at the bottom of my bed. I didn’t want them to see me hooked up to wires with blood still dripping from my arm. I didn’t want them to remember this. I sent them away early and I cried like a baby. I cried myself to sleep that night. I cried a lot until I could go home if i’m being honest. It’s embarrassing. I wish I was more brave about it but I was so homesick… And the worst patient in the world.

Once I had started to feel better, was off of the drip and I had a bit of life about me… I begged anyone who would listen, to let me go home. At one point I got so desperate, I asked the lady who brought around supper and bless her, she was a petite filipino lady who couldn’t understand much english. She asked me if I wanted juice, tea or coffee. I politely declined and accepted more water with my head hanging low.

I discharged myself eventually. I couldn’t stay anymore. The doctor got held up and I knew I would be better off at home. So I left with a prescription of Cyclizine and returned home for some rest in my own bed, surrounded by my people, my backbone and the reason that I had to stop crying.

The Cylizine worked for a few days…

Love Ria x




The Secret Is Out

Wednesday 16th November 2016

So after standing my family up on Remembrance Sunday because I was being sick every two minutes, I had to tell them why. I couldn’t lie anymore. I couldn’t make up any more excuses. I couldn’t keep it from them. I had a feeling that suddenly things were going to get a little harder in how I felt and hiding my news used up too much energy. Energy that I needed to keep hold of while I lost more and more dignity, by spending too much time facing the bottom of the toilet where little bits of bile often ended up in my hair.

I know that I’m not facing a particularly glamorous chapter in pregnancy. I know this isn’t the ‘glowing, beautiful hair, smiley’ moment. It definitely isn’t that bit. And I needed my peoples, to pull me through it. To grab me by the hand and laugh when I tell them how I was sick on a neighbours flower bed on the school run (true-fucking-story!)

I needed them to be my voices of reason after I spent a day crying because I was so hungry… and I needed them to roll their eyes and tell me off for that a bit. I needed some tough love and true to form, they were right there for me, telling me to ‘woman up’.

Suddenly, it went from the wrong thing to do… to tell them about my pregnancy before we had the scan to give us the nod that everything was okay… to exactly the right thing to do. Exactly the right thing.

And so, in the blur of sickness, cravings, hunger, emotions and more sickness, all of the things that are bringing me down and making me feel flat… I have found something very happy in this week. Something to lift my spirits and the best people to share my excitement with.

With Love,

One Happy Mama-To-Be (Again!), Ria x



7 weeks pregnant

Pregnancy just became a lot harder!

Remember last week when I felt amazing? Yeah… I don’t feel quite so wonderful now. In fact, last week feels like a distant memory. As I sit here, I think… How the f*ck am I only 7 weeks pregnant. It has been the longest week ever.

I’ve been sick a few times now. In the morning when I haven’t had breakfast quick enough. I end up sitting on the cold bathroom floor as I wrap my dressing gown tightly around my body, with watery eyes, I heave in to the toilet… well… needless to say, It’s pretty grim, pretty soul destroying. I try and do it with a smile. Trying hard to never lose sight of how lucky I am. But, it’s hard. I try and think about my shopping list or the school run. I try and dismiss it, like I don’t have time for the delay in my morning routine. Sometimes it works. Most of the time it doesn’t. Most of the time, I just have to wait until it’s over and then leg it downstairs for water and food to stop the urge from coming back. So far it has just been the mornings. The rest of the day, I manage to control it with ‘little and often’ meals and plenty of fluids. The queasy threat that pangs in my body and throat, constantly throughout the day sucks! The sickly feeling just sits there, waiting for any sign of weakness.

Food has become my nemesis! I used to love cooking for my family, for myself but now… the thought of putting any food in my mouth, the smell of food cooking… basically, it turns my stomach. I don’t want any part of it.

And what is with every single sense in my body right now? They are massively hightened and massively confused. Everything smells so strong, Every noise is louder, Everything I taste sits on my tongue for what feels like days… and my skin feels sore all of the time, like the ‘ill skin’ you get when you have the flu.

My tummy is getting a little bigger now. Only very subtly but it has definitely changed. It’s nice. One of the things that makes me smile. One of the things that makes feeling a little rubbish, worth every second. As nice as it is, it’s weird too. When I was pregnant with Noah, I didn’t start showing until  six months. When I was pregnant with Ellenah, I didn’t start showing until five months. And now, third baby, seven weeks… He or she is reaching up to say hi to Mummy.

He or she? I’m desperate to know what this baby is. I can’t wait to find out, I have absolutely no idea. This pregnancy is incomparable to my last two pregnancies, I can’t even guess. Not in the slightest.

Argh! This update sounds like a whole lot of whining. I promise, it hasn’t been a completely awful week. It was my Mums birthday on Thursday and we went for a lovely breakfast together, with my three big sisters. It was such a great morning. So happy. I got so swept away with the smiles, I’ll be honest, I almost broke. My secret very nearly shot out of my mouth, across the table and in to the ears of my family. I literally had to bite my tongue at points, there were too many opportunities to spill the beans. I’m not sure if I’m proud of myself for keeping my mouth shut, or not.

I’m questioning myself right now. Asking myself if keeping this a secret is a good idea after all. I could do with a cuddle. It would lift my spirits to hear my favourite people say ‘congratulations’. It would be better if I didn’t have to hide the sickness. It would be nice to have a girly little cry, through happiness, because the cute woodland creatures in the new John Lewis Christmas advert stole my heart or from getting hysterical because I can’t eat brie or runny eggs anymore.

Plus, this is a killer of a secret to keep. I still kind of hate myself for it.

Anyway, I need to sleep now. It’s past this mama’s bedtime. I’ll be real with you, bedtime is past my bedtime lately. I’m always tired! I hope next week will bring happier chat… roll on week eight! Actually, roll on week whenever I stop feeling sick…

With Love,

Ria x