Noah and pregnancy with baby number thr
Written at 34 weeks pregnant… when I didn’t feel like I was doing very well


Dear Noah,

There are so many things that I want to say to you in this moment. I want to tell you how proud of you, how grateful, how in awe of you I am. The first thing that comes to mind when I think of you right now though, is the words ‘I’m so sorry!’. I feel this deep, aching need in my heart to hold on to you so tightly and to apologise over and over again until I’m certain that you have heard me.

I’ve never wanted you to have to accept this version of your mama, to understand her, to be so fiercely loyal to her. I’m not proud to be her and I don’t really know how you can look at me like you do. Like I’m the best thing since sliced bread.

But, you do!

Everyday, you wipe the slate clean. You show up. You smile at me. You encourage me. You love me. You love me even harder lately, I can feel it. It’s almost as if you are loving me harder because you know that I am struggling to love myself.

I am sorry Son! Ever since I became a mother… Your mother, I have wanted you to see me as this ‘perfect’ person, this wonderful woman who can do no wrong. I’ve wanted you to put me on a pedestal. I’ve wanted you to hold me in high regard and to hold me in your heart as someone who will never falter.

And now I’m scared that even though you tell me every day without fail, that I am the best mum in the world… You may not really think so anymore. Now that it has become so obvious that I am just a human being. Just a person. Now that I have faltered. Now that I have shown you that I am so very far from being perfect.

Every day you somehow manage to tell me that I am your beautiful mama. Everyday you kiss my belly, your little brother and you talk to him… so excited for him to be here with us all. You don’t show envy towards him. You don’t show resentment, for the times I have been forced to put him first. As someone who loves you with everything I am… It has hurt me to have to do that. To make a choice to lay down and rest so I don’t fall down…rather than to play with you in the garden. You have taken 34 weeks (so far) of my choices and needs in your stride, constantly reminding me that I am pregnant and I need to relax. You are an old soul and you have such kindness in your heart. So much love and empathy. You have shown how truly selfless you can be and I don’t think words could ever express what that means to me.

Noah and pregnancy with baby number thr

I’m sorry that you have had to see me struggle, to walk and to cope with sickness. I’m sorry that I’ve had to ask you to wait, for things and for me. I’m sorry that I have become someone who has made you learn about how patient you can be and are. I just want you to be a child. I just want you to have fun. I don’t want you to learn all of your lessons now. You have time.

I have found myself saying to you a lot lately, that there isn’t long left, that in a few weeks your baby brother will be here. I have implied that as if by magic, you will have me back, as I was. As you remember. As I remember. And it doesn’t phase you. You look at me like I’m mad, like nothing has changed…and then you carry on talking about life after, with your new baby brother.

Can it be that you haven’t noticed how badly I’m doing? Can it be that I’m carrying the heavy burden of this mum guilt on my shoulders, every second of every day and you are actually okay?

Are you happy Noah? I desperately hope that you are.

You are going to be such an amazing brother to your baby brother. Even though you bicker and rough and tumble with her, I’ve seen how great you already are to Ellenah. You are perfect proof of how a heart can grow and how much love one can hold.

Noah and pregnancy with baby number thr

We are all so blessed to have you in our lives. So lucky to have you brightening every day with your beautiful spirit and energy. Apart from saying a world of sorry’s… I also want to say the biggest thank you.

Thank you for being you. Thank you for smiling every day. Thank you for trying your hardest at school. Thank you for being strong. Thank you for being resilient. Thank you for your acceptance. Thank you for your patience. Thank you for loving me back, unconditionally. Thank you for the spring in your step. Thank you for the cuddles. Thank you for the bump love. Thank you for being so considerate. Thank you for being mine.

Noah and pregnancy with baby number thr

Thank you for being a daily reminder that even when things feel tough and I don’t feel like I have very much confidence left within myself at all… I did something so right and so perfect. I raised one incredible little boy. I love watching you shine bright and be exactly everything that makes up who you are.

Thank you for being a daily reminder that there is good in every day… simply because you are in it.

I love you,

Mama x




20 Weeks Pregnant… Yikes!

In those early weeks, I would never have imagined being halfway through with this pregnancy. I remember the night before I ended up doing a stint in hospital with severe dehydration due to HG, I said to my husband ‘How am I going to get through this?’ with tears streaming down my face. I remember questioning myself. Asking myself if I could actually survive this. I know that sounds dramatic but when you are in the throws of it and you have absolutely no control over your body or your life anymore… It is very hard. And that statement doesn’t do the reality justice in any way. It doesn’t even come close.

So to only have another 20 weeks to go… What a milestone? What a feeling!

With Love,

Ria x

p.s. Subscribe to my YouTube Channel for more updates and to meet baby when the time is right HERE!


And this is how I felt when I turned 19 weeks pregnant! This was a massive turning point for me in this week. I had reached a point when I was DONE with being a victim to pregnancy and I so desperately wanted to enjoy it for everything incredible that it is and for all of the wonderful ways that it is going to change my life when I have my baby here with me.

With Love,

Ria x


The 20 Week Scan

Tuesday 31st January 2017

We saw our baby again this afternoon. In one breath, it was incredible. I had been counting down the days to see my little one again. To check in, check how much baby had grown… to see the little life growing in my tummy move around and be. Words can’t describe the feeling that I get in my heart when I see my baby on the screen above me. It feels like it’s just me and my baby in the room. Everything going on around me becomes a blur. I can’t properly hear the medical jargon that the Sonographer mumbles under his breath. The silence that hangs in the air around his concentration is irrelevant. I just lay there on the bed, gripping Matt’s hand and watching the screen in amazement and complete awe. I feel like I have to remind myself to breathe in these moments. It’s almost like I don’t want to waste any time because as much as having these scans can tell you, they go fast…And I never want to miss a single second of the experience.

This time was different though.

It didn’t go fast. It took me a while to notice in all of the excitement. It took me a bit of time to realise that the Sonographer was prodding my tummy that little bit harder, more aggressively. It took me a bit of time to realise that he was repeating two measurements in particular, over and over again. Once I did, I removed myself from my happy bubble and joined Matt in the room where I was met with more mumbling and the words cleft palate being thrown around, abnormalities and incomplete heart measurements. And, suddenly I felt numb.

I tried to read the Sonographer’s face, I tried to pick apart every facial expression.

I didn’t understand what he was saying. I didn’t understand his cold tone. I didn’t understand why he wasn’t being a little more kind to us. I didn’t understand what all of this was going to mean for our baby, for our baby’s life. I didn’t want him to tell me to come back in a few weeks time because he isn’t sure if our baby has a cleft palate and / or something wrong with the heart. I didn’t want him to take one final look before marching us out of the door, to then tell us that just because he can’t see any other abnormalities, it doesn’t mean that they are not there.

And worse still, I didn’t understand why I was justifying what he said on the way home. I didn’t understand why I was saying that he probably has to give a ‘disclaimer’ like that to all parents-to-be. I didn’t understand why I felt so calm.

Was it because deep down, I believed with my whole, maternal heart that everything was fine? Was it because I believed with everything that I am, that we would get through anything? Was it because I felt that after everything that me and my baby had already been through together, this wasn’t going to distance us from each other? I don’t know!

I told myself that everything was fine and threw myself in to sharing the news about the sex of our baby with our nearest and dearest. I launched myself into all of the things about the scan that we could celebrate… and would! I let the love and excitement from those around us envelop me and conceal any doubt in the back of my mind. I let them take away the ‘what-if’s’ and the questions that I was pushing down in to the pit of my body.

But tonight, as my exhausted body tries with all of its might to fall asleep in the dark, I am praying that my little human is okay… And I will, every night until ‘a few weeks time’… And then again, until my baby is nestled in my arms, safe and sound and surrounded by so much love.

With Love,

Ria x



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