Birth

39 weeks & 2 days

7.30am: This morning I woke feeling a little wet down there. Popped to the lavatory and didn't seem to have anything to show for it, so decided to clean my teeth and return to bed, however as I stood up a little trickle down my legs led me to believe that my waters had broken, even though I'm having painless contractions.

8am: A quick call to the midwife and a visit was imminent to confirm. 

10am:  The midwife shoes up, does the usual checks, confirms that it looks as though my waters have broken, but I'm not in active labour. Advises me to keep active, that she'll check on me later and that we'll need to head to the hospital if labour doesn't start on it's own.

 3pm: We went for a little walk.

5pm: My contractions are starting to have a small ache to them and Prudie is still kicking away merrily. Waiting is so boring!!! 

7pm: Still not much going on. My midwife called and advised that unless I am having three HUGE contractions every ten minutes by 7am, to call the Birthing Centre - so much for our home birth plan. I doubt my gorgeous one is particularly bothered to get anywhere quickly.

11pm: Still not much happening. I've sent Ro to get some sleep and am having mild contractions every 7 minutes. Yawn!

39 weeks & 3 days 

 1am: My waters have now officially broken...I'm going to try and get a couple hours sleep before heading in to St Tommy's.

3am: My waters are still flowing out of my body at regular intervals. They don't explain that once the brook starts flowing, it will continue at various intervals over several hours - gush!

6am: Still gushing water everywhere and little sleep. I'm a mess - emotionally exhausted and crying for no reason.

8.30am: We've arrived at ADU, St Tommy's, and I am now under observation having passed all of the checks: Abdomen pain? Are all fluids clear? Headaches? Flashing lights? Blah blah blah...

11am: We have met the Doctor and he's booked us in for the next available bed within the Ward; apparently everyone and their dogs are requiring Induction today, so we're in great company, and Tommy's is rammed full! We are officially part of 20% of births that start with the waters breaking and the contractions never showing up - which is nice.

Spoke to the Mothership and discussed how waters breaking are disgusting as you feel like you are constantly pissing yourself and you require a sodden adult nappy between your legs at all times, to which she replied "I've no idea, they were always broken for me", well isn't that nice for her, some people have all the luck.

12.30pm: Our Home Care Midwife has arrived and arranged for us to be moved to the 'Home from Home' unit and will now look after us for the next six hours. Hopefully the induction will speed everything up and Prudie will get her butt in gear, fingers crossed.

2pm: I've had the induction pessary, Prudie enjoyed having her scalp played with by the midwife. midwife. We have until 6.30pm to see if anything gets going, however at 2cm dilated, I doubt it.

6pm: Our midwife has headed off to enjoy her evening and we are waiting to be transferred to the Birth Centre for our Drip Induction, depending on our dilated I am upon arrival. I'm currently experiencing contractions every four minutes and they are pretty uncomfortable.  Roll on the drugs!

8pm: There is a shortage of Midwives, so we need to wait for Home Care team members to be called in.  I thought having a bath while I wait, might help with the pain. The bath is tiny and badly designed, I struggle to get my belly and knees past the handles and find it very hard to get out; it's comfortable and relaxing but did slow down my contractions, so I opt to get out again - with Ro's help, like a large Welsh crane.

(From this point, it was written post the event, I'm good but not THAT good)

10pm: It appears our room isn't available anymore, I'm guessing an emergency came in. Plus, the pain is getting mighty. The midwives bring me 'Gas & Air' and I ask if it's possible to get our antibiotics while we wait...as they are supposed to be administered four hours before birth climaxes.

11pm: Ro and I have found nice way to relax, listening to "Creedance Clearwater Revival," while lounged on the bed sucking the gas and air...however I keep on dosing off then being rudely awoken by a fresh contraction, not pain free. This sends me flying across the room trying to walk them off. But the rest of the vibe was blissful!

39 weeks & 4 days

12.30am: A new part of the contraction has started and I have a feeling it's the joyous birth canal moment...I fear I'm too late for any additional pain relief and I've no idea how I'll cope.

1am: We are finally being moved to the Birth Centre and not a moment too soon. I hobble around to the delivery room and am greeted by a lovely lady called Isatu, born and raised in Hereford by parents from Gambia - she's an angel. We also have a trainee called Jess from Cambridge, who is just so nice.  My crack pipe and I are hooked back up and I'm in bliss again. I ask Isatu for loads of pain relief, however upon inspection I am 9cm dilated and advised that additional pain relief could slow down the rate of my contractions. I guess we are getting this show on the road, as it is. 

1.30am: I have a crazy, crazy need to push (in line with a Thunder storm) and discover that I have no idea about which muscles do what and how to push a baby from my lady parts. After lots of dramatics and coaching from Isatu, I've got it, I hope.

The pushing starts and is exhausting, I've not slept in two days and now I need to use my bum muscles to extract a few kilos from my body, through a stretchy hole, and not just that, but I've got to engage my diaphragm and other big internal muscles to do so.

3am: Ro ponders why women in films are always so sweaty when giving birth,  which must mean I look serene right now...

4am: The sun has started to rise and London looks beautiful. ..I on the other hand have requested ice for my back and cold flannels for my forehead and back of neck; I think Ro just discovered why ladies are sweaty in films and on TV.

4.45: I've done it, I've no idea how...my final contraction was dying and I heard someone say 'one more push and she'd be out, so I did it, I mustered up some energy and did it and out she popped like a greased up seal...literal - head out the rest will follow. She has a raise lump (around 2inches, in diameter on the top of her head), I assume it led the charge down the birth canal and she's all squished but she's perfect! Fucking perfect, I'm in shock and awe!

Post Birth: 

I had four tears, mainly internal: three 'firsts', one 'second', Isatu was a master seamstress and I advised her to go on 'Project Runway'. I also got pretty high on gas and air, as the anaesthetic didn't realty work and every time she removed the gauze it felt like someone shaking a tambourine in my lady parts. It took about an hour and a half to stitch me back together and I lost a litre of blood.

I'd say that the grossest thing was seeing Jess check that my placenta was present and correct, it looked like one of the crappest jigsaw puzzles in the world.

The constant stream of people to our room after we were transferred back to the 'Home from Home...' was frustrating, bearing in mind we hadn't slept in 48 hours and there was a 'Do Not Disturb' on my door, however I guess they have to do their job.

All in all, it was a roller coaster and something that as soon as it was over, I wanted to start all over again - I guess that would be the endorphins talking...I'm so in love but also amazed that I created something so utterly in tact and perfect! It is almost beyond my comprehension

NCT Class

We had our very first NCT class yesterday. Going in I had two hopes, with an optional third:

·         Ro and I would feel more confident and have a better understanding of what we were getting ourselves into and what to expect with parenthood.

·         Ro might find a mate or two to speak with, who were going through the same thing at a similar time, who he could possibly escape to the pub with.

·         And, if I find a new mum friend, that would be a bonus, but it isn’t imperative.

The first class was ok: we learnt a few new things regarding birthing options, and the cultural viewpoints on pregnancy and child raising differs between we Brits and others nationalities. We also learnt about the Birthing Centre vs the Labour Ward, and the other options open to us through the NHS and privately.

Our class leader is positively lovely, knowledgeable and very approachable, so that’s promising. However my main reservation at this time is that the other attendees are very “nice”. I am hoping that with time they will relax and come out of their shells. Ro nailed it when he said “most ‘Londoners*’ aren’t overly keen to befriend new people and it normally takes them time to come out of their shells and truly relax. Other than us, who go in guns blazing trying to befriend everyone’. And he is right, we are very personable and friendly with very low boundaries, so maybe I am expecting too much too soon.

The one thing I found interesting was that most of the couples will be having their babies during mid-May - end of June, and yet none of them were particularly prepared and hadn't discussed issues like: 'the man's role within feeding', 'what type of nappies they would use?', 'how long they wanted the child in the bedroom'. They'd discussed where they wanted the baby to be born and the type of pain relief, but that was about it. I thought I had held off getting involved as I spent the first trimester convinced that the pregnancy wouldn't work out, spent the second trimester thinking that there might still be problems and being surrounded by baby stuff would destroy me. And it was only around the start of the third trimester that I finally relaxed and started considering what we needed and finally wanted to acquire it all. We did want the wedding out of the way also but that was a welcome distraction for me, as otherwise I would have been a lot more stressed.

The other realisation I made after last night's class was that Ro and I are very relaxed going into parenthood, we have discussed at length our ideals and preferred methods, we both want to take everything at face value and assess, manage and execute within the moment, and we aren't stressed about the worst happenings, as that is completely outside of our control anyway. Therefore the one thing I will walk away from the first class with, is that we are a lot more confident than I had previously thought.

I guess if this doesn’t work out, maybe the NHS day drop in might be better for us; or the post-natal NCT class may have a better selection of people for us to befriend; I guess time will tell…

*by Londoners, I mean those of us who moved into London from outside and are not proper, proper Londoners.

iFind, St Thomas' Hospital

St Thomas' are currently participating in lots of different pregnancy related projects at this time, so they asked if I would consider taking part and of course I said yes. Especially after helping with the progesterone trial.

Here is a video of the MRI of little Prudie chilling in the womb. They said that most foetus' once in the flow of the MRIs don't move much for the cine, however we were lucky and she did a little wiggle.

I did feel very sorry for her though, as the machine is incredibly loud and I imagine it must have been rather startling for her little ears.

The next day at work, after this experience, I noticed that the umbilical cord is up around her neck and got rather freaked out. I called the hospital, who were wonderful and had a Doctor call me back within ten minutes. They explained to me that unless it is coiled twice, they generally do not worry. I calmed a little but also noticed that she wasn't moving much - she was probably breathing in my stress and anxiety and keeping chilled in response, which didn't help.

By Saturday morning I was totally freaked, we were two days into Prudie only responding if I poked her, played music or requested her to react...unlike her normal three doses of hiccups a day and constantly kicking. I spoke to one of my midwives who directed me to St Thomas's. I felt bad as I didn't want to bother people without cause but knew for my state of mind, I should go. So off we trotted to see the Daily Antenatal Centre. All positively lovely, like always. Once again, the NHS are wonderful and so understanding. After 20 minutes observation, they were happy and sent us on our way, of course hearing the professionals telling me that all seemed fine calmed me down, and come Sunday morning she was back to her active self.

The midwives at St Thomas' did tell me that it is quite common for women to pop in between 28 - 31 weeks, as the foetus' have lots of space still but seem to calm down for some reason. I wondered if it is because kicking is so new initially and you become comfortable with it; I guess you lose track of how much they kick and as soon as you start focusing, you wonder "is it more or less than before", or maybe they do just chill out and ease off for a short while. Who knows?

Since Sunday, Prudie has been back to her old hiccuping and kicking self, thankfully, and now we only have ten weeks to go until her arrival date.

Less badges & more love

Image courtesy of the internet

I do not wear a ‘baby on board’ badge, I find them patronising. When I wasn’t pregnant, I would look up at every stop to see if anyone needed a seat more than I do, in fact I still do this. Don’t tell Ro.

A few weeks ago, a man ‘mansplained’ to me (first time ever in London, just for your info) that I shouldn’t walk with my headphones in on winter evenings as people on mopeds were stealing phones and bags from isolated women on dark streets (a lot of assumptions already in this conversation I didn’t ask for), then he said ‘oh your pregnant, well you should wear a badge, as pregnancy can make you awfully tired’. No fucking way, really? I didn’t react to this gentleman, he thought he was doing me a favour, he thought he was helping. I understood this and thank him for his advice.

My cousin said that she wore a badge while pregnant as she felt it helped her be identified and that people would avoid walking too closely, etc. This I do understand, however this has not been what I’ve witnessed and all I’ve ever seen is people be rather ignorant to others, regardless of pregnancy, disability or age.

Image courtesy of the internet

The fact that TFL have brought out a new badge, sums up the public’s attitude to seats and who qualifies for them.

I’ve noticed on the Victoria line and the southern part of the Northern line, that there is a demographic who are the most ignorant and this upsets me. I’m not sure if there is a higher percentage of this particular demographic on these lines, and I do think it is more an individual thing, some people are more conscience of other’s needs. But, the young white professionals, especially women, do not look up. I am a young white women and this upsets me dearly.

Maybe the particular demographic have experienced issues when they have previously offered their seats to people who weren’t pregnant and they’ve received shitty comments in return, which is ridiculous and I’ve never understood this attitude. I was offered seats while not pregnant (normally post a few beers and a large pasta dinner) and I always thanked the person for the kind offer; in fact sometimes when I’ve been offered seats while pregnant I’ve thanked them and not taken them up, either because I feel full of energy or because I’m quite happy standing. What is the problem? People being kind to strangers, embrace it!!

Yet, this isn’t a race or age thing, that is just an observation based on my experience. This is actually about the fact that everywhere else in Britain (most of the time), people will look up and offer seats to those indeed, yet in London unless you wear a badge identifying yourself as someone who should be offered a seat…you can be happily ignored. And this frustrates me greatly.

A friend of mine told me about a time when she was pregnant, on the Jubilee line, and another pregnant woman stood over a man in the ‘priority seat’ and tapped her badge without saying a word. This made me livid, the badge does not entitle you to a seat, it gives people a cue to offer you a seat if they see you. But surely, the cue should be that you look in need, the cue should be that people look up regardless of what seat they are in and offer seats to those who need them. It shouldn’t be an us and them thing, it should be an everyone thing.

Image courtesy of the internet

I would personally offer those hungover a seat, if they wore a badge. Traveling while hungover has to be one of the worse things EVER!!! And having a seat can assist this….I know this for a fact, I have done it many, many times. Now, you cannot cry ‘but they made themselves that way’, as so did the majority of pregnant women. And let’s be fair, the times when you really want a seat, the first trimester, you are not supposed to talk about pregnancy, in case something goes wrong (fucking ridiculous); or during the third trimester, when you are traditionally the size of a freaking house and even those who are hard of sight could see that a seat offer might be nice.

I feel that this situation goes hand in hand with the fact that being in a wheelchair, appears to not demand people a space on a bus, yet it should. I feel very strongly about this matter. If you have a pushchair, you can fold it up, regardless of whether your baby or child is asleep. It is a mild inconvenience, however being in a wheelchair can be a HUGE inconvenience to life generally, regardless of trying to get around London in a timely manner. Most of the underground is not designed for wheels, so buses are a life line to those bound by them. GENERALISATION WARNING: most of the people who refuse to move their prams for those in wheelchairs, are also the kind of people who would tap their badge at someone on the tube and demand a seat…completely hypocritical. You demand a seat but won’t consider making space for others when it isn’t practical to yourself – disgusting!

It all makes me so sad. Why can’t we all be a little more open minded and kind to each other, constantly putting ourselves in the place of others. Being in a wheelchair can make living a “normal life” very difficult, just look around you when you are out next, consider how many places have a step to get into them or have floors which are only accessible by stairs…a good 80+% of London is this way. Having a pram should highlight the plight that these people go through daily, we should be more aware and ready to fight their corner, as we have experienced it, temporarily, but still we’ve seen and felt the plight they struggle with every day, however we still have people refusing to move or try and accommodate those who might need a little extra thought.

I don’t know how to resolve this issue. The courts have now ruled that wheelchair users have the right of space on the buses and yet people still refuse to be considerate. TFL now have two badges and within the next ten years will probably have a host of multi-coloured badges highlighting people of varying ailments who should be offered a seat…there seems no end in sight, other than maybe, just maybe we all go back to being a little kinder and nicer to each other and try to consider other people’s life experiences a little more.

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Pregnancy No.3

I'm pregnant again. Yes, yes, I am. I really didn't think that September would be the month...I even bought tampons in advance of my periods arrival, and then it never came.

I did two tests, the day after my ever-prompt period didn't show up, and two days later I did it again, both were negative.

On the Saturday, I bought my wedding dress and on the Sunday I did another test which finally showed a positive result, "oh!" was my instant response, I almost didn't believe it. I then spent the next few days doubting whether it would stay but filled myself with positivity and hope, but bought super massive pads just to be prepared.

One week later, on a Tuesday I had spotting and cramping, Ro took me to the EPAGU at St Thomas's. I was convinced this was it and we were going to experience last July all over again...filled with hope but mainly feeling numb, we shuffled into the ultra sound room to be told that our egg was perfectly implanted and happy...and asked "have you ever been told your womb is split?", "no" was my answer, to which the Sonographer said "there is a second sack, which may be a failed pregnancy or the beginning of a second pregnancy". What the fuck?!

This was incredible news, as this pregnancy has had the same symptoms as my second one: boob achiness going up and down, cramping, and general achiness. I had assumed it wouldn't work out, and it may still not, but here's hoping.

A week later I have had another two days of spotting with cramping but I am still staying hopeful, especially as I have had two days of sickness (feeling hungry every two hours, almost ravenous, some times to the point of feeling sick), peppermint tea eases it a little, as does Coca-cola.

I am keeping positive as much as I can but not telling anyone has been impossible, as I'm normally a very open person; I just don't think I can face letting everyone down again (I do know this isn't the case but it is how it feels), should the worse happen. I have a follow up scan next Tuesday and we hope to find out that our little egg is now a little content embryo. Our approach is that one is a blessing, two would be incredible, and if it's not to be, ce le vie! It'll be hard but we've managed before.

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One week later...

Today we had our follow up scan, we got to see our little squiggle and it's heartbeat pumping away. They've booked me in for another scan in two weeks due to my history, which was very kind. Additionally, we had it confirmed that our second sack is benign, they can not confirm whether it is a clot or a failed pregnancy; I think I'd rather not know. One healthy squiggle is more than enough.

Along with everything being confirmed, I became 2795 of 4150 of the PRISM trial to see whether Progesterone actually assists with pregnancy or not. There are little to no downsides and potentially helping women with their future pregnancies is a wonderful thought.

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The Progesterone is interesting, it's two pessary white tar filled pods inserted twice a day and then spend the day / night working their way out. I've never used so many pantyliners, or washed my PJ bottoms / trousers so much.

Otherwise, it's been a kind of blessing (other than causing havoc with our sex life), as it has given me something else to think about.

I did discover that inserting them too high results in 19 hours of intense cramps...luckily it was just my cervix kicking off!

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During our third scan (9 weeks) 'Shithead or Shitbag' (as we've Christened our future offspring) did a little dance for us: Jazz Hands & Feet! Super cute and reassuring.

The EPAGU have been amazing, as always. They were wonderful last time round and excellent this time. The receptionists there often have stony faces but once you get past them, the Nurses, Doctors and Sonographers are ever so caring.

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On Wednesday we had our twelve week scan at the Fetal Medical Unit. Unlike the EPAGU, they have a massive screen for you to look at, and Shithead wasn't too keen on moving as he was quite contempt to be face down and snuggled up.

Our blood tests screening and scan said we are low risk, which is promising, however I was consuming Vitamin A during the first eight weeks, which could cause problems. This has been a concern of mine but I've been advised to speak my midwife about it.

"Pregnancy Sensitive" - The Great Post-Miscarriage Condition

One of the biggest problems with having a miscarriage is that people who fall pregnant (whether intentionally or by accident) tip-toe around you, making you feel like a white elephant with leprosy.

People expect you to be "pregnancy sensitive" and therefore unable to be happy for others who have something which you also hope to have one day, which is all very frustrating. I won’t lie and pretend that after my operation that I immediately wanted to be around babies, pregnant people, children or people who have had children, as I didn’t, but it wasn’t because I was bitter or jealous of them, it was because they were walking, talking reminders that my genes had failed and that I was once again sent back to the start, delayed. They reminded me of the endless hours waiting to be told by a surgeon that the pregnancy had failed; the pamphlets and softly spoken ‘buzz’ words the nurses used and of the nervousness just before my operation…something I understandably wanted to forget at that time.

And, I am not going to pretend that when one of my closest friends told me she had fallen pregnant without meaning to (she had been told at the end of last year that she would struggle to fall pregnant due to a medical condition), that I wasn’t a little upset but I was also ecstatic for her, she had something that she had been told would be difficult to achieve. She had something which she hadn’t wanted, just yet, but did want; she and her husband now had a future that they probably (and I’m sure they would agree) would have continued to put off, as the timing wasn’t right…they also had something which could have been extremely trying and hard for them to have gained (when they had finally found the right time). They’d been spared all of that upset and delay and that is something to be happy about. Yes, I was initially upset (which I felt dreadfully guilty about) but it was more to do with the fact that my child (had it my original pregnancy worked out) could have been close friends with hers and we’d have something to discuss and share, I’d be able to answer questions and advise her. And I felt as though I had been classified as obsolete and irrelevant...obviously when I fell pregnant the second time round I was over the moon, I got the chance to share this experience with one of my oldest friends!

We all know how that worked out, but that didn’t mean that I was jealous or upset about her pregnancy, that didn’t mean that I wouldn’t speak to her about what happened to me, if I had wanted to. I couldn’t have been happier for her and I still am. I think when you struggle to get and remain pregnant, you are more aware of how difficult it is, therefore you have this joy for others…yes, you feel a tiny pang of ‘oh great, another pregnancy to remind me of my failed ones’ but that lasts for about 5 seconds before you swallow it and fill yourself up with joy and hope.

Regardless of this, I have had someone announce their pregnancy to me and immediately change the subject to my upcoming / unplanned wedding…; I have had someone not tell me in case something happened a second time around for me, so I would feel able to approach them about it, if I felt the need (obviously meant with the best of intentions but this made me feel as though I was viewed as incapable of reaching the intended outcome, resulting in the feeling of betrayal), among their other numerous reasons; and I have had someone console me on my second miscarriage who totally avoided telling me about the fact they were 12 weeks pregnant, due to awkwardness, making me feel as though I had three heads! And let’s be fair, it wasn’t as though I wouldn’t have found out eventually…I mean, six months later out pops the topic you avoided and that makes for some scratching of heads and confused facial expressions!

We white elephants with leprosy are aware that just because we have had issues, this will not result in the world stopping others from falling pregnant until we feel able to deal with it; we know that people will continue to receive said news and we know that this is in no way a reflection of our short comings. Yes, there are some of us who it may be best to tell over the phone while they are at home, as they will need a few minutes to compose themselves but even they will be elated for you. Just because we’ve had some setbacks or may need to approach parenthood from a totally different angle to you, this does not mean that we are also incapable of sharing and celebrating your news, I feel it makes us more capable.

So, in light of this people of the world, I feel that I need to give you some advice: Yes, be aware that people who have struggled to fall pregnant or maintain a healthy pregnancy may be a little sensitive about the subject, you may even get a couple of tears, however these are not directed at you (they are internalised emotions which will not desist from many moons ago). BUT we are also very happy for everyone who does fall pregnant and will want to ask all the usual questions: When are you due? Will you find out the sex? When is your first scan? etc.. and will continue to do so. We will also want to be updated on the progress and the stupid names your partner has suggested, as why shouldn't he want to call the child Balthazar Guthrum Rollo (partially one of Rowan's own suggestions)?! And, when that little bundle of tears, shit and vomit does pops out, we will also want to cuddle them and to hear all the gruesome details of childbirth. we are still human after all!

Pregnancy Take Two - The Results

I heard from the hospital and had my final visit today. I'm happy to announce that it was not a Molar Pregnancy, after everything, they've confirmed that it was 'just a failed pregnancy'. Oh, just a failed pregnancy...nothing more, thank God?!
The Doctor who called me kept on telling me that it was just a miscarriage and I was thinking 'no, no it wasn't. Nothing like what happened first time round happened this time round. This time round I had some spotting which stopped and then had an evacuation, as you told me I had too. Did you get it wrong?'. Finally I was told the whole truth about what happened, instead of what they had led me to believe, which was:
On my first trip, they struggled to see the sack (as everything is so small) and told me I would miscarry, but she wanted me to visit in a week for a confirmation.
On the second trip, the Sonographer told me that it looked like a Molar Pregnancy and that cysts were present; the Specialist didn't even look at the scans, just read the report and signed the paperwork.

Today, finally, the nurse confirmed the following:
On the first trip the Sonographer struggled to find the sack, especially as it was so early and there were signs of trauma, possibly resulting in a potential miscarriage. Additionally my HCG hormones were high, which is apparently synonymous with a threatened miscarriage.
On the second trip the second Sonographer couldn't see a sack or foetus but could see potential cysts and therefore reported a Molar Pregnancy.

Why they couldn't tell me on the second visit that there appeared to be no sack, however potential Molar Pregnancy signs, is beyond me. Instead they went straight for 'You have a Molar Pregnancy' and worry me senseless in the process.
Why they couldn't be straight with me from the first visit, instead of saying 'you'll miscarry', why couldn't they say everything is super small and I don't think this will be a viable pregnancy, I'm sorry but we'll confirm next week. Then on the second visit they say, I agree this isn't viable, however there appears to be worrying signs of a Molar Pregnancy...but this may not be the case and it may be a simple miscarriage?! But in these cases we have to perform an evacuation to confirm our suspicions, is beyond me and yet they jump to worse case scenarios and have you out of my mind.

On the upside, it wasn't Molar, which means that Rowan and I do not have to wait 6-12 months to continue to try for 'Pregnancy - Take Three'. This also means I do not have to attend endless blood and urine tests at Charing Cross Hospital and that there are not any further worrying health issues to panic about. On the upside this is extremely positive and wonderful news (although very sad), it is just a shame that it was delivered and dealt with in a confused, muddled and not straight forward manner.

Pregnancy, Take Two - The Molar Pregnancy

I cannot help but feel that my body is slowly trying to tick off every single thing that can go wrong during pregnancy:

First Trimester Miscarriage:  TICK

Dreaded Molar Pregnancy that every pregnant woman fears: TICK

What next, Second or Third Trimester Miscarriage? A positive test result in relation to a terrible syndrome which can wreck your beautiful future child’s chance at a *traditional life? Near death experience, resulting in the removal of your womb? Still born? Cot death?

I do know that I am being overly dramatic but I feel fucking shitty right now. I know that on the grand scheme of things life and death can be a whole lot worse and at least I found out relatively early and didn’t go on thinking for the rest of my first trimester (five weeks) that everything was blissful to discover at 12 weeks that it was a clusterfuck of cells masquerading as a foetus.

I do know that it is just the luck of the draw and we had no luck this time round. I joked with Rowan in regards to our odds for a traditional pregnancy next time round: We’ve been part of the 1 in 4 miscarriage brigade, now we're part of the 1 in 600 Molar Cell Calculation Fuck Ups. However, bearing in mind that Rowan’s odds for getting MS after having Cholera, Meningitis and a rare tropical disease (that the London Hospital of Tropical Diseases hadn’t seen for a hundred years) were pretty low, it also highlights the fact that next time round something even more fucked up may strike and that all of the worry and panic I felt when I first found out about this pregnancy were for nothing; if you are going to miscarry or have something crap happen, that will continue to occur regardless of sleep, work, what you eat and drink, or how you live your life.

Pregnancy is a very strange creature. It can take months, years and decades to conceive to have it cock up. The whole process is one of chance and the potential outcome is also one of chance, yes age and health will go against you or in your favour, but so will walking down the street instead of catching a bus or wearing red instead of green. My point is that when it is right and you end up with a healthy baby for the foreseeable future, it is truly a gift, a remarkable beautiful gift of every bit of chance working in your favour.

I am someone who panics when in limbo, however as soon as I have facts and answers, all is good. So in answer to everyone who wants to talk and ensure me that they care (and yes, I do know you care and you mean the best, and I do really appreciate that, even though I am coming off as an angry, senseless, selfish bitch from hell) but there is really nothing to talk about, the facts have been discussed with the specialist, the consent forms have been signed and the procedure has been booked:

Yes, it is shit.

Yes, I know that it doesn’t mean that we’ll continue to struggle in the future.
Yes, I know this is just circumstantial, a setback, if you will.

Yes, of course there are various other options out there, if my body does decide that creating life is not it’s cup of tea.

Yes, I’m aware that someone’s cousin’s sister-in-law-once-removed also had one and they’ve now got 40 children of every colour and religion, having their first pregnancy at the grand young age of 62.

Yes, Rowan is being extremely supportive and perhaps you could also extend a kind word in his direction, as this is happening to him also. He is also going through this with me, he is also hurting at the loss of our potential child and future that is now delayed, once again.

And Yes, I know that next time it may work out, however I also know that it may not and that it isn’t a reflection on me, or Rowan, and it isn’t a bad thing. However it is a shitty thing but shitty things happen daily in this world and I am at peace with that.

*I have purposefully not used the word ‘normal’, as when it comes to creation, birth and life: normal isn’t a "thing", it doesn’t exist.

The Great Waiting Game

Yesterday morning I woke to some "spotting", pregnancy term for light bleeding. It was light brown and I hadn't seen this kind of bleed before. It worried me slightly but I assumed the Doctors would tell me to come back to them if something of relevance happened. So I got ready for work.
Rowan was worried and suggested I call the Doctors, I told him they wouldn't be interested. By the time I got to my temping job, I decided that I may as well call them, what did I have to lose?!

Ring ring, ring ring...
Receptionist answers "Doctors surgery"
Me "Can I please see the Doctor as soon as possible?"
Receptionist "You won't be able to see him today, unless it is an emergency"
Me "I am in my first trimester and I have bleeding, however I'm unsure if this is classified as an emergency"
Receptionist "Well I'm not a Doctor and wouldn't be able to make that judgement. Bear with me"
... "Did you say you're pregnant?"
Me "yes, in my first trimester"
Receptionist "Would you like to speak to the midwife?"
Me "yes please"
Midwife (in a very thick Jamaican accent, I won't write phonically, it will just insult everyone) "Hello"
Me "Hi, I'm in my first trimester and I am experiencing some light bleeding, do you think I should worry?"
Midwife "I think you should go to the EPAGU at St Thomas' and get checked out"
Me "Oh, I was going to go to work and see what happened"
Midwife "You're crazy. You can do that but you can also see if it is something to worry about"
Me "Do I need to make an appointment?"
Midwife "If you want but I would just go down there, Floor 8"
Me "oh"

END SCENE

I let my agent know that I wouldn't be going to work. Apologised profusely, as I'm British and it's the done thing "I'm sorry old chap but my womb is failing on me you see and I've got to go to the hospital and get invaded in my lady area with an inanimate object covered in a jonny and lube".

I finally arrive at St Thomas' in a total state, by the time I reach the EPAGU, I've had a total breakdown and lived through a miscarriage , been rushed to surgery with an ectopic pregnancy, etc. (I can be a little dramatic at times).

They are lovely. I come out of weeing in to a cup for some unfortunate nurse to test to have the kindest woman hand me a cup of water, check on me and have a little chat. She was an angel. I'm not even sure if she was actually there or if I was just seeing a heavenly figure for comfort. She told me about her first visit to the clinic and that she went on to miscarry. However she has a 4 year old daughter and a 9 month old son (he is half of a set of twins, however his brother passed on on day 8, totally devastating).

In light of this news, all of a sudden the worse didn't seem that dreadful, don't get me wrong, it's sad and causes endless upset but it isn't comparable to carrying to full term, giving birth and then losing them. I'm not sure what is.

Eventually my scan came up. The Gynaecologist was very nice. She took forever up there and I thought I was going to be presented with a full "holiday pictures slideshow" when she was done.

However I was met with a confused, puzzled look.

Gynaecologist "Firstly, I thought this might be your sack"
I stare at a screen of grey fuzz and see a distant circular thing...
Me "ok"
Gynaecologist "Then after much searching (she didn't say this but I felt that she should have), I found this which I'm sure is your sack. I'm terribly sorry but it looks like a miscarriage to me. I can see blood next to (she may have said 'in', but I can not remember) the sack. I'm not 100% sure and would like a second opinion, do you mind waiting while I speak with a colleague".

4 days pass by (more like 3 minutes but you know how slowly time goes when you're eating every finger nail and seeing your foetus slip from your grasp).

Gynaecologist reenters room

Gynaecologist "I'm sorry but my second opinion agrees with me, it looks as though you are at the start of a miscarriage. I would like to order some blood tests to make sure and have you come back next week, so I can check on you"

I start to feel like Frankenstein's monster.

Me "ok"

Off I walk back to the waiting room to await my blood tests. Eventually I get called. I am chatting / half crying to the nurse and she's lovely with her thick Eastern European accent. I ask if I will be classified as a 'high risk' pregnancy next time, "oh no, not until you've had three". THREE??? Say 'le fuck' what?!

Post the blood tests I walk out of St Thomas's half in a daze, semi crying, semi crazed, unsure of what or how to feel. I call Rowan and confirm everything to him. I feel shit, I insisted he didn't come along (as I didn't want to bother him) and all I've caused is for him to have no idea what is going on and to not be involved. Not fair Pipsywoo, not fair.

My blood tests came back and they confirmed that I still had pregnancy hormones in my blood. Which means they have no idea what is going on and I've now got to go back next Monday for a follow up scan. Should I miscarry in the mean time, I need to notify them and potentially return sooner.

So here I am. 36 hours later...no heavy bleeds, no particularly bad aches from "that" area and my boobs still ache. I have no idea what on earth is / will go on over the next 6 days. It is just another day / week in the life of a pregnant woman - the great waiting game!

Pregnancy Irritation

I'm annoyed. I got home from temping today and found an ominous thick envelope for me, I knew it had to be from the NHS. Let me back track a little...about 20 seconds after telling my GP that I was pregnant, before asking the date of my last period, he asks "do you want to be tested for Downs Syndrome?", "What?" is all I could think...what on earth? I guess yes as I would be good to be prepared, however it wouldn't change anything.

The last time I told a Doctor I was pregnant, he congratulated me and asked me lots of nice Doctor questions, patted me on the arm and saw me on my way (ok no arm was patted but that's how it should be, sugar coated and fuzzy). Not being constantly reminded that "you're an old mother and your baby may suffer from various illnesses / disorders". Yes, obviously it is possible, I'm not dumb, blind or stupid but I wasn't expecting that question so early.

My Mother has told me that she was considered at the grand age of 30 in 1976 an "old mother" and every time she would go to the Doctors the nurses would always loudly declare "she's the old mother", as though she was deaf! BUT, that was the 70's, times have moved on. The average woman falls pregnant at 30 in the UK, findings found in 2012. I was pregnant at age 32, however it didn't work out and at 32 I was not considered at risk or old, however the cut off point has obviously been reached and it is 33, accordingly to my GP.

Let the good times roll, what's next declaring the music in the shops on the high street is too loud and that the youth don't know how good they've got it?, both things I have thought in the last seven days...funnily enough.

Pregnancy, Take Two

Rowan and I have been trying since we lost our first pregnancy in November. We gave it a break during December, to allow my body to readjust and then started up again, in a casual fashion, focusing on my ovulation period.

I started to get a little frustrated in May, as the first time around it only took 3-4 months, at the start of our 5th month a good friend announced her surprise pregnancy, I was so excited for her but also a little sad for myself, which is stupid and selfish but apparently kind of normal...?! I didn't feel normal, I felt terrible and miserable for being so self centred.

This month Rowan kept on telling me to be positive and that it will have worked this time, for sure. I pushed back saying that all symptoms were negative, I had started to get all of the normal signs that it hadn't worked. I felt completely normal, other than a week of my womb feeling a little hard and some tenderness in my boobs, nothing.

Come my due date and nothing, I am never late, it's unheard of. I head off to a family event on Saturday and start to think about how my boobs really, really hurt, similar to the last time I was pregnant, which is odd. I did a test and discovered that I was 1-2 weeks pregnant. I was so excited, full of love and giddiness and so was Rowan.

Two days later my boobs hurt less and I freak, this is how it happened last time, my boobs didn't hurt, then all of my other symptoms stopped and then my miscarriage took place. I am out of my mind and Rowan has no idea what to do, other than telling me to calm down, I head off to my temp job and put it out of my mind, or at least try too.

I speak to a friend and she confirms that every pregnancy is different and the joys of bodies, therefore it constantly changes each time, and that boobs do stop hurting for days or weeks at times and that other symptoms do fluctuate.

This morning we went to the doctors to confirm my pregnancy. The Doctors doesn't initially put my mind to rest about my boobs hurting less, the cramping being normal or my other symptoms being perfectly fine, but post the visit I do feel calmer. I read lots of posts online and lots of women have pregnancies with minimal to no symptoms, and knowing this makes me feel better. My boobs do ache but not hurt, this is enough for me and if this is all I suffer with for the next nine months, bring it on, I'll be one lucky individual.

I am keeping positive and taking it as it comes. The Doctor did put my mind at rest in regards to one thing: traditionally if you lose your pregnancy 0-12 weeks  it is due to the foetus not being right, however if it happens after 12 weeks, it is more to do with your body. This isn't the case with all but it has finally made me feel rest assured about my miscarriage, finally.