babyurbeautiful

Multi-striped Round Neck Dress

Suspicious Cat Tee and Magic Pants

Rainbow Dress

Hi, I'm Cat.  I'm new to this site but here to stay.

 After a short hiatus and a mini makeover, we've both (myself & Lauren) put our heads together and decided to rebirth the baby (URbeautiful baby), so to speak.

 I'm going to regale you with my very long tale of how it took me to become part of the 'club' I hankered after for so long.

When I first toyed with the idea of blogging on Baby Ur Beautiful, it was going to be from a  slightly different perspective – it was going to be for the baby­-less; the women that apparently don’t hold a stake in societies future according to some failed leaders.

After years of peeing on sticks at various times in a month, faddy diets and the, “You’re leaving it a bit late” comments (which forced me to bury my head deeper into that cheeky bottle of Marlborough/gin and end the night sobbing on my friends shoulders). 
I remained the taboo one – the one without a child, and it's hard to forget these comments as my story eventually got its happy ending.

Don’t get me wrong. There were rays of hope. I got pregnant fairly quickly after we had decided to “start trying”. 
Six months after getting married I gagged at the smell of broccoli (which I love) shouted a lot at my husband, and suddenly it dawned on me – I was pregnant! 
I basked in my smug secret, idly looked at baby clothes and drank ginger ale from a champagne glass clad in my bridesmaid gear at my BFF’s wedding (theoretically I was an Usherette but that takes too long to explain!)
It was to be short lived, however. 

Two weeks after the giddy delight of watching two blue lines pop up on a stick it all went horribly wrong. In hindsight I’d ignored some key signs that it was about to. I’d searched chat sites for reassurance; brown discharge = normal, right sided cramping = normal, morning sickness miraculously disappearing at 8.5 weeks = normal.
Hospitals don’t deal with miscarriage very well – in fact they are fairly useless. 
On one level I can understand why; there’s nothing they can do and you are not ill. 
On another level I question the motives of some health care professionals for choosing such a vocation.

It was a Bank Holiday and we had gone into London to support a friend who had organised a fun run in aid of Leukaemia Research. I woke up that morning and didn’t feel great, but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what felt wrong so I brushed it off – if Rich could run 10km whilst waiting to see if his treatment had worked and he was in remission I could get my backside into London to support him.
We met everyone at the pub post run. I had the most expensive pint ever. Two bottles of Becks Blue poured into a glass so no one would know ­- oh the irony! 
A couple of hours later we were finishing up; congratulating runners, saying our goodbyes to friends and planning to leave for along leisurely lunch to finish the afternoon. 
As a matter of course I popped to the toilet before we left. I’ll never forget that moment as I glance down and looked at the toilet bowl that was a sea of red. I froze. What should I do? 
I quickly pulled myself together told P (husband) we needed to go straight home and in a hushed whisper on the street outside I explained what I’d just seen. 
We decided to head home and go straight to the hospital. Once on the tube I changed my mind. I needed answers now - not in 40 minutes.
We headed to the nearest hospital in East London. We were seen quickly. They did the standard urine and blood tests and discerned what I already knew – I was pregnant. More than that they couldn’t tell me. 
The nurse asked to see my panty liner and declared (with a glimmer of patronisation) that with such a small amount of blood on it I was experiencing a standard level of bleeding that for some unexplained reason happens to a lot of women within pregnancy. 
The doctor readily agreed that I was looking ­ and evidently feeling ­far too well to be experiencing a miscarriage. 
I was packed off home and told that unless I experienced signs of an ectopic I was to wait until Wednesday and return for a scan.I went home. 
I continued to bleed. I returned on the Wednesday to the Early Pregnancy Unit(EPU) where after a 90 minute wait I was given an internal scan (with the wand that is now affectionately known as dildo cam in our house). The Sonographer, a lady of Polish origin, foraged about for a while and then said “Are you sure you were pregnant? There’s nothing there!” and that was how I learned that I had definitely lost my baby.

Miscarriage is much more common than people would think but it still remains a taboo subject. I am fairly open about most things in life so told people it had happened and many then opened up and shared their stories with me. 
Then there is the other side of the spectrum the people spouting the hard facts and the 1 in 10 pregnancies end in miscarriage. Slightly tactless, you think?

The one thing everybody assured me was at least I knew I could get pregnant. 
That it would happen again very soon. It didn’t.

After a year where nothing happened I asked for a referral to fertility clinic. We were both “textbook perfect” for everything with the exception of me having fibroids and these seemed to be of little concern. 
There followed a year’s treatment of various medications. Some that stimulated eggs, others that released them and we were sent home to perform mechanical sex 18 hours later - still nothing. 
The Consultant decided that IVF was our only option and we agreed, attended an introductory lecture and planned to begin at the end of the year. Three weeks later I discovered I was pregnant.
This pregnancy was much shorter lived than the first. In fact I could have blinked and missed it. 
I discovered I was pregnant on the Friday evening and by 7am on Monday morning I was sitting in A+E wedged between a lady who appeared to be suffering a nervous breakdown and a surly looking boy cuffed to an accompanying policeman. I had no doubt this time I had miscarried. The clots of liverish sludge, the agonising stomach cramps that were forcing me to try and curl into a foetal position as I unashamedly sobbed. 
This time the news was broken in a slightly different way. A very harassed Indian doctor with a plethora of ear stubble simply said to me, “you were pregnant but now you’re not”. 

IVF had to be delayed as a result until the start of this year. I decided to throw everything I had at it. My Friday night tipple became peppermint tea. I had acupuncture, reflexology and took up yoga. 
I meditated. I reacted quite sensitively to all drugs. It was hell on earth. I felt tired, sick emotional and as though my body didn’t belong to me – it didn’t. All seemed to go quite well. They harvested 11 eggs, 10 fertilised. Then 10 fell apart. They thought the drugs might have been too potent. They weren’t quite sure. At my follow up appointment I was told that it was only worth one more go. We agreed to pay an extra 1k for various drugs; anti ­rejection drips, Clexane to thin the blood, steroids (which would ensure a hefty weight gain on top of all the hormones). This all came with a health warning though – I was old (38 to be precise) and therefore I was probably not getting pregnant because my eggs were old. If round 2 didn’t work my next option was egg donation.

After a long chat we decided to give my body a break and delay round 2 until the beginning of August.
So here I am. I should be preparing for round 2 of IVF. Instead I am preparing for a 20 week scan!

My initial reaction was “How did that happen?", apart from the obvious answer! 
Typically ­and almost annoyingly as everyone says it’s when you are not thinking about it that you fall *coughs Lauren*  – I had become pregnant in a normal month where I had eaten whatever I fancied, drunk more than a little (I’d been on a long weekend to Ireland – enough said) and generally had fun. 
I’m naturally delighted. I’m also petrified. 

The first weeks after I found out were the worst. There was no excitement when I saw two blue lines – I didn’t dare feel excitement, but when I saw a heart beat on a grainy picture in our local hospital I felt a surge of love I’d never felt before. I felt it was important to acknowledge the struggle it has been to get to where I am today – and I am mindful it is a long journey ahead. 

Future blog posts will therefore have to be about the here and now – all the bits that no one tells you and I promise they won’t be as long as this (within reason!)

Now we're ashamed to say we haven't seen the new film yet - but there's so many little people, so little time...

We actually just wanted to introduce you to M & S Paddington Bear Bubble Bath -  that IS amazing, and we're rather jealous it's not for us!
Despite being designed for kids, PB fans everywhere will love this little treat.
Complete with a bright berry red waterproof hat o'er top of the cap, adorned with Paddington's body (navy blue duffle coat, natch) and cheeky little face. But our favourite part?

The fragrance and appearance of sticky, sweet marmalade - oh yes!

My well-trained nose would say it's actually more of an apricot jam aroma but the uber sweet scent wafting from the bathroom is just DE-light-ful.

As usual pour under running water, BEAR with it - and a bath full of will appear (soz, for the bad joke).

Described as: 'sticky sweet marmalade, zesty orange peel and a hint of fuzzy peach', your little ones will LOVE this for bath-time - just don't be tempted to eat it, ok?

£8.50 M & S nationwide 

If you're stumped with what to get a chum for Christmas, who is pregnant - here's a good idea.

We we're sent a sample of Velvet Living London's baby bear box, and it really is beautiful, however, I'm not sure the recipient would appreciate actually how much the box is worth.

Velvet Living was originally a quintessentially British homeware blog by Heather Slade, who found an overwhelming amount of friends and family getting married, pregnant, engaged - she was forever rushing into John Lewis to stock up. Which then led her to the idea of creating a well presented gift in one place, at the right price, without compromising on quality.
 Here Velvet Living was started and the blog blossomed into a veritable treasure trove of boxes - perfect for every occasion.

We kindly received the baby bear box - inside there's an exclusive and absolutely adorable Coco &Wolf (exclusive to Velvet Living) bear print body suit, Cowshed Baby Cow Milky Body Lotion (200ml) and Histoire D'Ours Soft Grey Bear.

Now, the box retails for £50.00. I think for a gift for family and first time you'd be looking to spend £30-50, fair?

The Cowshed body lotion is around £10.50 - everyone loves Cowshed. If you don't know it, the paraben-free baby items are just divine.

The teddy is absolutely delightful, as delicate as a real bunny rabbit, butter-soft with a scruffy finish, beautiful quality and on inspection on google, a real collectors item and quite hard to find.




A small one will set you back around £25-32 (not as nice as this one) as it is only 25cm, I don't think the recipient will appreciate the worth. If you're in the know - you will.
It's of fantastic quality, and my little man LOVES it,  I feel sad, that if I gifted this box, the recipient would not be aware of the actual RRP of the cherry-picked items. I'm not saying friends are not grateful, but you get me?

Then there's a Coco & Wolf body suit. The exclusive body suit is stunning, and is exclusive to Velvet Living, you can find other examples of their exquisite designs here :

Coco and Wolf

For £50, you get fastidiously chosen items in a beautifully packaged box, the thought that has gone into it (I have to point this out as some people may say why aren't I making a saving?) It's not about that. You don't walk into John Lewis, and say if I pick these three items - can you do me a deal?

Think of it like this; it's the ultimate personal shopping box. Someone has done for you exactly what you set out to do, without the stress, and given you the inspiration you were after.
It may be the first time you are introduced to the adorable brands, and savings aren't the aim of the box at all - it's all about the full package (excuse the pun).

www.velvetlivinglondon.co.uk