“I’m having my baby… IN JAMAICA!”

“Hi, I’m 23 weeks pregnant and I’m having my baby.. IN JAMAICA!” That has to be one of the bizzarest statements I’ve ever made. Every week, our pregnancy yoga teacher insists that we sit in a circle like we’re all at an AA meeting and say how many weeks gone we are and where we’re having our babies.

The yoga studio is 10 minutes away from Holles Street, Ireland’s National Maternity Hospital, so everyone else said they were having their babies there. Except me. Until this point, I’d been planning to have my baby at home here in Dublin supported by a midwife-led team. In Ireland, this the equivilant to confessing you’re a martian and want to have your baby on Mars.

Anyway, my ideas of having a peaceful homebirth have been blown completely out of the water over night. My husband is taking a job in Jamaica and we’re moving in about 6 weeks! It’s not somewhere I’ve ever even contemplated going, but I’ve been to Mango Landin’ in Brixton at least twice, so I’m ready for anything. Gulp.

My husband was offered the job a week a go, accepted it on Tuesday, and flew out today Thursday to go and meet his new team for a week. I cannot get my head round the speed of which our lives are changing. I haven’t had more than 4 hours sleep for a week for thinking about it.

The excitement, sheer panic and anxiety of it all! The HEAT! Handing in my notice at work yesterday… after 7 years! Just one month before getting my hard won materinity package!

Anyway, I’ve decided to start a blog about it all. I hope you’ll follow me on my journey into motherhood and the Carribbean…


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