"I will praise the one who's chosen me, to carry you"
-Selah: I will carry you

Monday 31 October 2016

He left too soon.

There's nothing quite like exhaustion to trigger tears. When I can do nothing but sit for a while, energy totally spent, that's when Bertie creeps in and once again my rainbow's hair is wet with his mummy's salt tears over his little big brother.

We've been parenting after loss for ten weeks now, and so far I think we are doing OK. We joke that hey, he's still alive so we must be doing something right!  My anxiety is, I think, proportionate to my experience. I fear he will stop breathing. Daytime naps: I must be able to see him, nighttime: breathing monitor on.  In the car: check the mirror, is he moving?   In the carrier: continually moving his head out of his favorite position nuzzled into my chest.  It's fair enough, isn't it? When I watched helpless as my first born took his final breath?

I really don't worry about anything else. Accidents will happen. He is going to fall, he will likely break a bone some time.  I don't doubt we'll wind up in A&E eventually. That's life. But breath? No breath means death.  That's what I fear. I doubt it will ever go.

We took Oliver to the zoo this weekend with his nanny and grampy. I was fine, watching other families with the baby and the older sibling, imagining Bertie running on ahead to see each animal, impatient with the rest of us. No tears, just thoughts and smiles.  Nanny wanted to buy both boys a gift and felt bad there was something suitable for Oliver, but not for Bertie.  I was the one to reassure her, that's ok, they don't need the same.  Bertie will have his own gift another time.  In fact, I personally find it easier not to treat them in the same way, at the same time.  It's impossible to be "fair" in a completely unfair situation. Both are loved equally, but differently.   But when it was time for my parents to leave, and mum leaned down to kiss Oliver and say bye bye, the flashback took my breath away.  Of course this time it was goodbye for now, not forever. but I was instantly slammed back to that forever goodbye.  Hold it in, don't remind her, see them off, smile, tend to your baby son.

Now: a quiet moment, energy spent, sitting holding my sleeping, breathing boy. Now is the time to cry for my sleeping, not breathing boy.
  
this song today.



Tuesday 20 September 2016

The fifth year

I'm told my readers are missing my blogs. I barely have time to eat let alone blog for now! But right now I am sitting holding my rainbow close, remembering his big brother and trying not to re-live, yet again, the memories of five years ago today. It seems like the time to try a one-handed typed blog.

Five years. Such a long time and yet no time at all.  It is different this year, we have his little brother so of course I don't have the "luxury" of focusing solely on Bertie. And that makes me feel guilty! I can't win. We managed to travel down to see him for his birthday, I delivered his gift and flowers myself, and I am so glad we managed that. But, with so much to remember to pack for Oliver, I forgot to pack Bertie's candle this year. A silly thing, but a tradition and he doesn't get many. Lucky his nanny had some we could light instead. He danced in them just the same.  I forgot to look for him in the clouds. But I did notice when the sun shone at his forever bed, as it always does.

It's normal, isn't it? Second child comes along and the first gets less attention. Oliver has been called Robert/Bertie as many times as Oliver. Normal. But hard when the first isn't here to claim his bit of attention. I feel guilty when I forget to give it in the way I have always done. 

Taking Oliver with us to Bertie was bittersweet. So many years we have waited, prayed, hoped and cried.  He is here, our rainbow, and at a month old we took him to his brother's grave. I cried, of course.  For Bertie, for Oliver not having his big brother, for the space next to Bertie and my relief that we aren't using it. Because, yes, last time we went I really did look at that space and wonder if next time we came would we be putting his sibling to rest there? Relief. And pain. And a grief that isn't all fixed now, and never will be. 

When Oliver is drifting off to sleep, his jaw goes slack, his eyes close and he looks so much like his brother at the end that I can hardly bear to look at him.  He's doing it right now. I hope that as he grows, it will comfort me to get a glimpse of how Bertie may have looked.   But he is so much more than a rainbow baby and little brother. He is a new little life, his own person.  Not a replacement, a sibling. I am just so sorry for him missing out on his big brother.  For all of us missing out on Bertie and all he would have brought to our lives. 

Monday 5 September 2016

Milestones and memories

Bertie would've started school this week.  Tomorrow to be exact.  It's the biggest milestone we've hit for a while.  I naively thought that having Oliver would distract me enough that somehow I wouldn't notice it.  How ridiculous!  How many times have I told people that a new baby doesn't make it ok that you lost one?  Maybe I was more hopeful than naive.   Anyway it has hit me hard and made me miss my biggest yet littlest boy all the more as I wonder which school would we have picked? What would his uniform be like? Grey trousers, white polo shirt, red/blue/green jumper?  Where would we take the obligatory "first day" photo? (today and tomorrow are days to avoid social media I think...) I wonder if I would be spending tonight calming nerves or calming excitement?  Would he come back full of beans telling me all about the other kids and how he has told them all about his baby brother already? Would he like his teacher? What would he be best at? Where would he need a little help? Perhaps he would be a bit shy? I don't think so, I imagine him to be quite boisterous and cheeky.

Thoughts that will never resolve, questions I'll never know the answer to.  I miss him so much.

Unfortunately it has coincided with my husband having to go back to work today after his paternity leave.  So I'm here on my own with Oliver and terrified something will go wrong on my watch. Again, memories intrude from the last time he had to return to work after our baby's birth. Then I was scared to be left alone without our baby, this time I am scared to be alone with the baby.  I need to start trusting myself that I can do this.  I am slowly learning to trust my body again after it brought Oliver to life and home, now I need to learn to trust my instincts and abilities as a mum to a living child. Five years on, I am still discovering the ripples caused throughout our lives by Bertie's death.

Sunday 28 August 2016

The adventure begins

Our second son and Bertie's little brother made his grand entrance to the world just under a week ago.   It has been a whirlwind week to say the least! Oliver Solomon gave us all the biggest suprise by being born on the landing at home. There was no time to get to hospital so he was delivered by the paramedics and his daddy cut the cord. It was amazing! I find it very ironic that for Bertie's birth I really wanted a home birth but wound up with an emergency c section under anaesthesia; whereas this time I had resigned myself to the high risk, highly medicalised birth which would likely result in another c section, and got the home birth I though I would never now have! We made it to 37+5 in the end, and he weighed 6lb 5oz.

So we are now parents to a rainbow baby. As I said, it's been a whirlwind. It is wonderful, it really is. Oliver is bringing us so much joy and he is a treasure. But there have also been a lot of tears over Bertie.   I realised there would be of course, but I wasn't fully prepared for how often they would come, and how unexpectedly. Little moments, such as laying next to the hospital cot with Oliver holding my finger.  Instantly transported back to another hospital, an incubator, a smaller baby who could only grab my pinkie not my first finger.  It is realising the full extent of all we lost when Bertie died with every new thing Oliver does or we do with him.

They say you find more space on your heart to love each new child as much as the last, and it is true. But couples parenting after loss have to love each of their children in different ways.  One is here, one is not. But both equally special and equally important.  It breaks my heart that Oliver will grow up without his big brother looking out for him.  On our second night in hospital, both he and I were wide awake, so I picked him up for some skin to skin. As he began to settle, my tears began to fall for the baby I never got to hold so close, never got to feel nestle against me, who I also whispered softly to, mummy's here, just go to sleep....  With tears streaming I held Oliver tightly, and began to tell him: "there's someone I want you to know about...."

Friday 12 August 2016

The end is in sight!

Well, we are past 36 weeks and into the last few weeks of this pregnancy! Of course, the baby could still arrive at any time, but we now know that we have less than three weeks to go, maximum after seeing our consultant today and agreeing the last date I will be going to before they intervene.  Less than three weeks!! Incredible.

So this afternoon I have pulled my socks up and finished the mobile I have been making to pass my bed rest time at home.  Now I am officially off bed rest, I thought I had better do it, or it will never get done! So, that's the nursery pretty much finished, apart from waiting for daddy T to put a hook in the ceiling so that we can hang the Noah's ark mobile properly!







As you can see, we have gone with a rainbow theme (predictable, yes, but it pandas to the optometrist in me who knows that young babies see bright colours better than pastels!) We have kept a couple of bits from Bertie's Pooh bear theme aswell, so it is a balance between a new room for a new baby, whilst still remembering and including their big brother.

So how do I feel? Good question! OK! I think. I am not worried about the baby at all. Not really. Well, no more than any regular mum anyway. I am still getting frequent movement, and Grub seems to love waking my up at ungodly hours of the morning with kicks.  Watching the Olympics makes me wonder if this one will be a gymnast! Today's growth scan estimates a weight of 6lb. 6lb! I have re-packed the hospital bag to include newborn sized nappies and clothes, instead of premature ones, and we have a big bag of premature supplies to donate to the NICU.  In just 5 days we will officially be at term, well early term anyway.  So yeah, I am not too worried about the baby now. I am nervous about the birth, but who isn't?  Feeling OK, excited overall.

What is on my mind is Bertie.  I am struggling with the thought that with such a young baby, we may not be able to travel down to his foreverbed for his birthday this year, for the first time. I don't want to feel like he has been pushed out of mind because of his new sibling. I feel even more urgently that I need to remind everyone that he would be turning five next month, and starting school. I still miss him, this baby doesn't make it all OK that none of that is happening as it should be.  On the other hand, I don't want Grub's birth to be overshadowed by Bertie's death. That is why my preference would be for Grub to arrive in August, rather than going up to our due date on 7th Sept. Fortunately our consultant understood that and has agreed.  I think future birthdays and parties would be hard, knowing that Bertie should be having his a week or two later but he won't be. A different month makes it easier somehow. It's a tricky balance, finding space for both babies in the world. Of course, the world would prefer to concentrate on the living, so it is up to me to make sure Bertie is still a part of everything.  So, with the left over felt from Grub's mobile, I am working on Bertie's gift next. I always make him something for his birthday so it feels fitting this year to share that with his sibling.  It isn't finished yet, so will share it with you when it is done. That is next on my pre-baby to-do list!

Sunday 31 July 2016

Ready and Waiting

A couple of nights ago I sat on my bed and looked at the moses basket, sitting there expectantly waiting for the baby that is coming very soon, and it hit me- this baby really is coming home, very soon! It brought a tear to my eye.  It was, perhaps, the first moment that I fully allowed myself to believe that it is true.  That this little rainbow is actually going to make it.  That we aren't about to start again on the journey of grief. A mix of joy...and sadness.  Of pleasure and pain. A new life but one still lost. It is just a moses basket. But it is so much more. It's a hand-me-down that has never been used. It is full of expectation both unfulfilled and renewed. 

So here we are at 34+4! Can you believe that I will reach early term (37 weeks) in just two weeks and three days? I can't.  It is a miracle I credit and thank God for.  I know that not all of my readers share my beliefs, but honestly, can you explain it any other way? OK, I have been on bed rest, but, let's not forget I had less than 1cm of cervix at 26 weeks, and had been losing 1cm every 2-3 weeks! None of my caregivers thought I would get this far, nor did I.  We have all run out of adjectives to describe how amazing it is, and all I have left is "Miraculous".  Nothing is impossible with God.  Science gets you so far, then there's God.

Do you remember the scripture I came across in my first week in hospital? When I felt like I was in prison?






Well, it has proved true, hasn't it?  I didn't give up, and my work HAS been rewarded, almost. I feel very "lucky" compared to many friends who lost their babies at full term. At least for me I can enjoy the last few weeks of my pregnancy knowing I am past my danger zone, rather than getting increasingly scared up to my due date. Of course I take nothing for granted. I know too much for that and am fully aware than nothing is guaranteed, even now. But, I do believe it's going to be OK. And since I will not be allowed to go overdue, the longest we will have to wait to hold our precious bundle is just 5 1/2 weeks, probably less. 

Now we are here, I really think we are going to make term.  I have finally stopped stockpiling size zero nappies and knitting tiny outfits, next week I will re-pack the hospital bag to be prepared for a term sized baby.  At our growth scan on Friday, Grub was estimated at 4lb 14oz! So almost too big for the "tiny baby" babygrows I bought already! I've knitted a newborn sized hat and today will start the matching cardigan.  (It is a girl design, I couldn't resist how cute it was! Plus I still think Grub is a girl.  Maybe next week I'll do a boy one just in case) And they are for MY baby, not a gift! Wow.

The pram is here, the nursery is done.  Rainbow themed, naturally. It is bright and happy and beautiful.  Again it is bittersweet to finish it, when Bertie's never got finished.  We have kept a couple of things from his Pooh bear theme, plus his Oglet toy to share with his baby sibling.  It felt good, and sad, to finally take them out of the drawers.  I am glad we moved house.  I think to re-do the same room would have been too difficult.

So now, we wait. We are as prepared as we can be.  We've watched hilarious birth class DVDs (having missed our antenatal classes with me being admitted), read my pregnancy book, bought everything we can think of that we may need in the first week, and restrained ourselves from buying the rest.

And breathe, and wait.

Monday 11 July 2016

The chronicles of Bed Rest: Reflections (day 52)

As my time in hospital draws to an end, I've been thinking about what I have learned about myself, and about life over the past six weeks. 

It's a total cliche but I have learned what is most important to me. That being this baby being safe, and time spent with my husband.  When you see each other every day it becomes easy to take that time for granted. The tv goes on, attention turns to social media, whatever it may be. When you have a couple of hours every couple of days? You look forward to that time. You spend it chatting, even though you don't have much to say because you've been in the same room all day. You want to hear about what he's been up to.  You treasure the moments where he's getting kicked in the face by your bump. That family time becomes so precious, especially when you don't know how much more of it you'll get. Each time he left for home without me, my heart broke a little bit. It was like being 18 again and going back to uni after a weekend together- there have been tears! I have appreciated more than ever all the little ways he loves me, and Grub.  I can see what an amazing father he is going to be. 

I have developed a new appreciation for the loneliness of people who live alone, and/or can't get out much.  I understand now why elderly relatives want to know what day you are coming, what time, how long for? It is because they are living for that visit.   I have realised just how many great friends I have, near and far, who have visited several times and continued to support and pray for us daily. I really appreciate all of them. 

I've lived with a limited wardrobe, every other day showers and rarely worn any makeup.  I have spent nothing on myself for six weeks, other than a birthing ball, maternity nightie for labour and a birth education DVD (can you tell my mind has turned to having to actually deliver this baby!). I have asked Mr T to bring my bank card in twice- once so I could give a charity donation, and once so I could take advantage of a sale to buy the few things we still need for the baby. It's been great! Not least because I have saved so much money this month! I wonder if that'll continue once I'm home....

Of course I have still had creature comforts. People have generously brought me girly bits like hand creams as well as books, fruit, sweet treats and tea! I haven't been on digital detox - in fact I have relied more than ever on social media to keep connected. I have spoken on the phone and texted people more than ever, simply because I have the time.  It probably took me the best part of the first week to switch off the internal monologue of "stuff I need to organise" to stop writing lists for Mr T to do, to stop worrying about work and how they were coping without me. In short to realise I am not indispensable and there's nothing I could do about it if I were! 

As much as I miss my home, I don't miss the "stuff". Life has been for the most part, happily simple in here. Of course having your meals brought to you, sheets changed for you and cleaning done for you all helps! But what I mean is, I haven't missed all my possessions. I have my iPad, and I won't lie I would have struggled without it, but all I have used it for is Internet, to keep up with friends and news, and reading a book. I've streamed a couple of shows to pass the time. I don't miss the tv. There's no show I regret not seeing.  

What I do miss about home, despite feeling lonely at times in here, is a sense of privacy and space. Alone time. I know that sounds really silly but what I mean is, in here, people start coming in to my room on their own schedules throughout the day, starting at 8am. Whether I am up or not.  It grates a little bit. But I know it is not a hotel and they have jobs to do. So I make sure I am up as often as I can. Being able to lay in bed beyond 8am without fear of intrusion by anyone but The Cat will be a real luxury for the last few (hopefully) weeks before Grub arrives!  I am an introvert- space and privacy are important to me. I am also missing The Cat and the quiet (and not so quiet) companionship she offers. Resting my hand on a fuzzy head and hearing a contented purr is a treat I took for granted until now. 

I have learned, if I didn't already know, that I would and will do anything for this child. God has proven to me once again that He can and will provide beyond what I could ask and expect.  I never allowed myself to really believe I would be discharged still pregnant. I have no doubt that I wouldn't be if it weren't for the enormous amount of prayer and grace being extended to us. 

It's been interesting, and enlightening. I wouldn't want to do it again, but I hope I remember the lessons for life. Now that I am down to my last couple of days, I am finding it really tough. Because I know it is almost over, it's been such a long day today.   I feel quite tearful and I just want to go already. I've done my best, I've been compliant and mostly uncomplaining. But I'm so ready for it to be over! Officially I'm in until 32 weeks, which is Wednesday morning. But I am going to see if they won't let me go tomorrow evening instead, just a night early, at 31+6. No big deal right? But to me it would be a huge deal. My own bed. A night early!! Wish me luck....! 

Sunday 3 July 2016

The Chronicles of bed rest:Day 44

30+4 guys! So great! We are four weeks further along than Bertie. Now that my gestation begins with a 3, I am so much more relaxed. We have even started researching prams! I'm daydreaming about christenings instead of funerals and just did a big online shop in Mothercare sale.....in short the pregnancy feels almost normal now.

But, now that I have stopped worrying about Grub, it has given me the head space to think about Bertie. Now we know why he came too soon, and we also know that he most likely would have been OK had we known, had I done bed rest.  It's a weird one. In some ways it helps to know it was nothing I did wrong, and it means the problem can be managed in this and any possible future pregnancies should we be blessed again. But on the other hand it hurts to know that it wasn't "not meant to be" (not that I ever believed that), that he would have been ok, should have been Ok. I know there's no point playing the what if game, because nobody wins...but the thought is there. I also think about how he would be as a big brother, whether he'd be hoping for a brother or a sister. Definitely a brother I think. Girls smell when you're nearly five! It hurts that we won't get the sibling photo.

This morning we went to look at SCBU here. I was a bit apprehensive, afraid it would bring up difficult memories. It didn't. Infact I am glad we did it, as actually it was a lot less "medicalised" than I was envisaging, particularly in the lower dependency nurserys that Grub would be into now.  We have also learned that if I can get to 34 weeks, then depending on the condition of the baby, there's a chance we will be able to stay together in "transitional care" here on the post natal ward, rather than being separated with Grub in SCBU and me discharged home. That would be so wonderful! Basically it's if the baby is able to breathe and feed with little/no support but does require monitoring and possibly some minor interventions. The neonatal team would visit us daily and the midwives would support breastfeeding. It would mean me being admitted again but who cares? We'd be together which is what I so desperately want.

So forget 32 weeks, the goalposts have been moved again. I am now praying to make 34. I'm just three days off 31 so it feels doable. I just have to behave once I get home and not start walking about too much! I have a huge incentive now, we can do this! 

Friday 24 June 2016

The Chronicles of Bed Rest: Day 35

It's been a big week! I've left my room. Twice! I have actually been outside and felt the breeze on my face and seen the sky not through dirty windows. It has done wonders for my mental wellbeing.   Mr T brought lunch. Pasta, becuase I mentioned I hadn't had any since coming in. Still hot. Amazing! Then we went outside with me in a bit of a bone shaker of a wheelchair. Mental note: when we go to buy a buggy, make sure it has big rubber wheels and decent suspension! Poor grub hasn't been shaken up so much since we almost missed our flight back in March and had to run from one end of the airport to the other in two minutes flat! Being outside was wonderful, not least because we celebrated hitting 29 weeks! Now we are just five days away from my next goal of 30 weeks.

Consultant keeps moving the goal posts. She is thrilled with me and now wants to aim for 32 weeks. Meany! Let me revel in getting to 30 first eh? Of course at 32 weeks I will be allowed home, so it is the next big target after 30. I've done more than half my time :) it has actually gone by in a flash and I cannot believe we are here at another weekend!

My vicar came to visit yesterday, had a good chat and I just casually slipped in that we had started discussing Grub's christening. (No, I didn't tell the vicar we call the baby Grub-too weird!) but the point is, that really demonstrated the mental shift I have made that not only am I willing to discuss my christening thoughts with my husband, but also the vicar! Anyway he confirmed he'd be delighted to discuss it with us when we are ready. Great stuff.

I have knitted up another hat and cardigan combo, in a slightly bigger size:



Just one more prem size to do then I'll be onto full term sizes! 


Also yesterday was the absolute highlight of my time here. We went down for a growth scan, excited to see Grub again after all these weeks. Growth I am pleased to say is bang on track for gestation, right on the midline. Perfect, average baby! The real treat though was when she offered to switch to 4D scan for us. I didn't even know they had that available on the NHS. They don't usually do it, I got the impression she just wanted to be kind since we have been through so much. See, I told you it would pay off if I made myself popular here! It was so amazing we got a really clear picture of Grub's face. I tear up every time I look at it! Aunty thinks Grub is certainly a girl as she looks like me as a baby apparently! We still don't know, we said we didn't want to know so she let us know to turn away at the critical moment. Was very tempted to sneak a look, but now we have waited this long, I want the suprise!

I have discovered that Grub is a Billy Joel fan. Specifically, "you may be right". I was listening to my iPod with earphones the other day and that track came on. Well some how Grub started bobbing along right in time with the beat! Clearly he/she couldn't hear it, but was pretty cool all the same! Anyway, decided to test the theory today and played it again with the earphones to my belly. Well guess what, Grub wakes right up for another boogy! I am so in love with this baby already. Hours of entertainment right there in my belly ;)

I am beginning to suspect the midwives are running a sweepstake on when a I will go into labour! They keep joking that they will be inducing me at 42 weeks! I'm personally going for 34+5, girl, 4lb 2 oz. There's my official predicition! Worth a pound bet?


Saturday 18 June 2016

The Chronicles of Bed rest: Day 29

It was all go yesterday! I had my glucose tolerance test, so had to fast from midnight. It's a blood draw, then drink a drink that can only be described as Sprite post mix but someone forgot to add the carbonated water, then another blood draw. Student midwife sent to do the deed, actually she was very competent and I complemented her on her phlebotomy skills. However, when she came back after the two hours to do the second draw, it was a different story! She took the draw again, perfectly then went a bit white as she realised she has used the wrong colour bottle! I told her it was fine, go and get the right one and do it again. She came back with the correct bottle but no needle. She was getting a bit flustered now she then couldn't get the draw from a different vein and had to try a fourth time from my hand! Bless her. Four draws when two would have done, but at least the result was fine!

Irritation over night as the night midwife discovered I have been self administering some tablets I have been taking for years, I assumed they knew-it is written in my notes! Anyway, she woke me up at 4.30am to ask for the box, "so the doctor can prescribe them." Too groggy to argue the point that I had ample supply and please go away its 4.30am for goodness' sake, I handed them over. Next thing I know, she is creeping in at 6am to lock them in my room locker! Ugh! I questioned it, and apparently it is hospital policy to lock all patient drugs away, even paracetamol. I told her I found it mildly insulting and she just said they have to do it. So now it is more work for them and a nuisance for me as I have to request my tablet with every meal. Like a child. Remember me saying I felt like and extra in one flew over the cookoo's nest?  Well that feeling just increased ten fold! 

Anyway, decided to cheer myself up by delving into the beautiful gift box my wonderful friend brought me this week. It's full of treats, encouragements, and jokes from growing up together, all individually wrapped with guidance on what to open when :) she is such a treasure! So, I opened a post card today with the following message: 

 


Made me smile and laugh :) just what I needed as a pick me up out of my pissed off-ness.  

My consultant has been up to see me again. She wants to bring Grub's growth scan forwards and do it one day next week. It was originally planned for 1st July so two weeks yesterday. I'm glad about that as it means I can a. Leave my room a week sooner woohoo! And b. get an estimation of how big Grub is getting and if s/he is on track (notice I am avoiding using "they" as when I did that in previous posts people suddenly thought I was having twins!). She says she is chocka next week so will have to squeeze me in, but will endeavour to give me enough notice for Mr T to be able to attend from work. She is so lovely and accommodating.  She asked were the midwives monitoring the baby and I said no, as I haven't felt the need as I am getting plenty of movements. She said just to ask if I wanted it. For some reason I really don't! I have heard other women having it, it just means sitting for an hour listening to the baby's heartbeat sound like a train going by endlessly. Haha, I prefer to just enjoy the kicks and rolls! Then she said, oh so casually, "it looks set to be a nice day today, maybe you could, go and sit outside for a bit?"

Hold the phone....

What? Already?  The thought actually made me panic a bit. I'm only 28+3. (Two weeks bigger than Bertie, go Grub...!) but I would still rather not tempt fate quite yet. She said if I was just sitting it would be fine, and I will go stir crazy in here. True, but I would rather wait and share that moment with Mr T I think. And go down in a wheelchair. Not sure I can remember how to climb stairs! I hope I'm not getting agoraphobic......

I don't think so. Truth is I am pretty desperate to go out, I just want to do it when I feel safe enough and in a way that feels safe.  Mr T will be here with me Wednesday afternoon, when I will be 29 weeks. That seems like a good day to venture out. Will have to hope for sunshine!

Tuesday 14 June 2016

The Chronicles of bed Rest: Day 25

Yesterday I deliberately did not write, becuase I really hit rock bottom. I knew it wouldn't be an easy post to write, or to read so decided to leave it and wait and see how I felt today. I am glad to report that after a great night's sleep I feel 100% better today! I'll quickly run through yesterday becuase I want to chronicle everything as it is, the good and the bad.

It basically just all got to me. One of the paediatricians from SCBU came to see me, to talk me through what may happen and everything Grub may need to go through depending on their gestation when born. It's a bit scary. Ok, a lot scary. Whilst we have done the SCBU experience before, it is all such a blur and it ended suddenly, and badly. Vicky midwife also gave me a book from Tommy's called "having a premature baby". It was so thoughtful and being an information junkie I really appreciated it. But reading it makes it all real, that this is really happening, we are having a preemie again, and it's serious.

Later that day I could hear the bounty photographer next door showing the couple her photos of their  newborn, and it just hit home that we won't have that. Now, I know this is a small thing, and actually we had already agreed we wouldn't cave in and buy those prints as we could get some just as good ourselves at home. That isn't the point though. To me it just represented what we aren't going to have, the normal delivery with immediate skin to skin and up to the postnatal ward, learning to breastfeed and hospital photos and visitors and balloons. No. My baby is going to be taken away from me after birth. The SCBU Dr and nurses will be waiting in the corner of my delivery room to take them. I will be left with all the hormones and no baby, again. If we are lucky and Grub is strong enough, they will let us see their face before they go, so we can see their features without all the wires. But we need to be prepared, they may be presented to us in a plastic bag (keeping them warm). We won't be able to hold them. They will update us as soon as baby is stable and bring us a photograph. We'll have 24-7 access to SCBU. All making a pants situation as good as possible. It's ok, I guess. As long as I at least get to see them. Hear their first cry. It is just hard to lay here day after day and hear new babies come up, visitors come, photos taken, go home. It's like a carousel at an airport and my case never comes. A torment of hearing what I desperately want but know I cannot have going on for all these other couples and their babies. Even in my own room there's no escaping it. At eye level as I use the loo are two information posters. One extolling the virtues of keeping your baby with you 24 hours a day to "get to know each other"; the other the importance of immediate and ongoing skin to skin. They may as well have put a picture of someone holding up two fingers and blowing a raspberry at me. I came so close to ripping them off the wall yesterday.

But today. Today I am 27+6. Tomorrow is 28 weeks! When I got admitted I never thought I would get this far. Nor, she now admits, did my consultant. She is thrilled with me and in her words this morning "30 weeks now feels achieveable" YES! That is what I needed to hear today. She also followed up with "but, even 28 is amazing and SO much better than 26" I love her.   She asked when my next scan is so I said, 30 weeks. Infact, since I will need to go downstairs for that, do you think hubby could take me outside in a wheelchair then! "Oh yes I think we could let you do that!" Oh happy day! Roll on July 1st. Two weeks on Friday, 30+2.  I joked that if I hit 32 weeks I'll be having a party, she said she'll be having a party with me! That feels a little too far ahead to contemplate. Four more weeks. But two more, to 30, that much my brain can handle. At 30 it hopefully wouldn't take too long in SCBU before I could do kangaroo care and hold my little one.  And as someone who's been here said, just think of the stories you will be able to tell them when they are older! Oh yes, we will have plenty of those! Everyone gets a bounty photo. Only the special ones get the space station photos!


Saturday 11 June 2016

The Chronicles of Bed Rest:Day 22















 


After my wobble on Wednesday I am pleased to say I have been feeling much brighter the last few days. I expect the roller coaster ups and downs will continue for some time to come and I'll just roll with it. 

So today is Saturday, and we're at 27+3. A whole week beyond Bertie's gestation! Isn't that something? I realised yesterday that we now have two milestones each week, Wednesday is the big one where I get to tick off another week, but Saturday is another week longer than last time. This is great as it breaks the week up and makes time go faster. As much as I said I wouldn't be comparing the two pregnancies any more, I will just say that I have really noticed a difference in Grub's strength this week compared to last, and consequently to Bertie's. Now I understand why they say every day in the womb is two less in SCBU. New this week I can feel rolls as well as jabs and kicks.  Last night I had either a head or a bum actually sticking out of my belly! I poked, naturally, and Grub moved hahaha, it's so cool! What is really lovely and a big silver lining to this enforced bed rest is that whilst I am not experiencing this pregnancy in the way I hoped or making the memories I wanted to, in a way I am experiencing it more. What I mean is, when Grub starts stretching and somersaulting, or sticking random appendages out in all directions, I get to stop what I am doing and just feel it all and appreciate how wonderful that moment is. I am so lucky

Yesterday Vicky my favourite midwife (the ward sister) was on duty, so I had a good chat with her about how my labour would be managed and what options I would have. So I now feel so much more prepared and so much less scared about it.  The main thing I needed to hear is that they would only put me to sleep as an absolute last resort when there really is no other option available.  If I'm asleep, the baby's asleep, and they don't want that.   I told her I am desperate not to miss the birth this time or to come round to find the baby's already in SCBU. She assured me that unless it would be detrimental to the baby's care (Ie they were critical) then as a minimum they would allow me to see them before they were taken away to SCBU. Essentially, the longer I can stay pregnant, the more normal my delivery will be. Wonderful! 

I've knitted up the next size of preemie hat, to fit babies born at 27-32 weeks. So now I need to do the cardigan to match the colours!

I have been asked a couple of times if I am excited yet. I can't honestly say that I am, because I know that we still have a long journey ahead of us no matter what. But, I have made a mental shift away from waiting for Grub to be born and die, to thinking in terms of them coming home, eventually.  I am even thinking about the logistics of choosing a pram system whilst I am on bed rest! If I get to 30 weeks, then perhaps I will start to feel a little excited. And if I get discharged still pregnant 32 weeks, then there'll be a big celebration!

27+3! I think I just might make 30!!





Wednesday 8 June 2016

The Chronicles of bed Rest: Day 19

Apologies. This is a mind-dump post.

Complaints:

I am far too hot
Not sleeping well, day or night:- noise, heat, discomfort
Oh yeah- discomfort. If I lay down it hurts my shoulders and arms. If I sit up, it hurts my lower back and hips. Stupid upward-tilted anti-gravity bed positioning. I'd be about as comfortable doing a hand-stand.
The food is repetitive and boring. And the portions are too small.
I am discovering the perils of eating too much fruit!
My muscles and body strength are literally wasting away
Although I have my own room, at the end of the corridor where nobody ventures unless they are coming to see me, I feel like I have no true privacy. A succession of people waltz into my room throughout the day, on their schedule not mine-either so speak to me or change my bins or sheets or clean my floor. This morning I came out of the bathroom to find a doctor waiting in my room for me. I apologised for keeping him waiting.
Do these things REALLY need to be done several times a day? I am not sick, nor am I able to move around and create any mess or put more than a lone wet wipe in the bin in between the tree times daily changes. So wasteful.  I just want to be left alone for a couple of hours so I can cry. I could put my do not disturb sign on the door, sure, but then I'll feel guilty about unnecessary moving around off the bed.
They now want to know exactly what time I take my medication each night so they can log it wherever the heck it is they log it. Never mind I've been quite happily and competently taking this stuff for years, now I am in hospital so they have to know the ins and outs and record everything in The Log. And no, I don't want you to lock it in the cupboard for me, thanks. It's just fine and dandy right here in my drawer, thanks.
I know when they are coming to do my stomach injection (which only some of them will allow me to do myself) becuase I hear the drugs trolley and the crocs squeaking along the corridor. The whole thing reminds me of One Flew Over the Cookoos Nest. By the end of this I'm going to need electric shock therapy!
There's a speaker for the patient call-bells right outside my door. They chime every five seconds until someone responds to the call and shuts it off. I appear to be the only person on the ward who has figured out that if they aren't responding within say 7 beeps, they are too busy so maybe switch it off yourself and try again in a while? Becuase, you know, it is disturbing EVERYBODY and their NEWBORNS.
Yep, newborns.
I am nothing but an incubator for this baby. (They are worth it) but I want me back. I miss home and husband and cat. I miss my things. I want to put makeup on and wear nice clothes and go out and be in society.
I am truly concerned that my legs are going to be permanently indented by my compression stockings. Why do I need them anyway? They are so hot and itchy and horrible and I'm having the stomach injections now and by the way they really hurt- and I am not a needle phobe and have done loads of stomach injections to even conceive this baby. Ok, so it is all to stop me getting a life threatening DVT. Well, the risk is so low. So low. I don't want to be this medicalised!
Junior doctor: Look me in the eye. I am a human not a case note!


Fears:
Are dreadful.
Birth is going to happen. Too soon. Far too soon. We don't know when. We won't check your cervix again becuase it won't change the management and it may irritate it and trigger you off. So just lay there an wait, ok? No. NOT OK.  I don't want to be a time bomb. What's my birth plan? I haven't even seen the delivery ward.  What is going to happen to me? To the baby? What pain relief options do I have? Under what circumstances will you do a section? I categorically DO NOT WANT A GA.  What do you mean we just have to see what happens? This is every day for you but for me it's a HUGE deal. Yes it's baby no 2 but you know what happened with no 1 don't you? You know I have never had birth classes don't you? You realise my labour was less than three hours last time, and was and still is all a huge trauma, physical and psychological? Well?
I am so scared. I am scared history is going to repeat and I'll be put to sleep and we'll both miss the birth. That my first glimpse of my baby will be a photograph again, groggy from anaesthetic. They can't promise me it won't happen. Just "we only do that if we have no choice" there was no choice last time.
27 weeks. Fantastic. Still THIRTEEN WEEKS EARLY. Still not guaranteed life. Still high risk of developmental, physical and mental difficulties. Of operations in the first year of life. Pregnancy should be 40 weeks. Not less than 30. 30 is my target, it isn't good, or OK, or they'll be fine at that point. It's, possibly achieveable. But then, possibly not.

Blessings:
It is different. We are here and they know. SCBU are ready for us.
We have gotten beyond 26+3
This baby is oh so active
There are buts. But there are also at leasts. Lots.
Grub is the most prayed-for baby in the north west
I am in the UK. And therefore don't have to remortgage my house to pay for this.
So many people care, so many are helping, visiting, texting.
The staff are all friendly and kind and most of them are trying their best to make it all a little less rubbish for me.
I have a loving and capable husband who is doing his best to hold everything together at home and make it all OK.

There must be more. Maybe tomorrow I'll be able to focus better on them. For now I have to focus on this promise:





Monday 6 June 2016

The Chronicles of Bedrest:Day 17

This was never meant to be a daily update! How can I have more to talk about when stuck in a hospital bed than I normally do at home??

Bad night's sleep.  I am in the last room on the ward, and behind my wall is the next ward. I think it must be a geriatric ward as for the second time I've been kept awake by someone older continually shouting for a nurse :/ this time I heard her go in and tell him off for shouting, but it didn't work. I must have dropped off at some point, as I had a horrible dream I was losing the baby. Bleeding. To be honest I am suprised I have got this far since my only other one at about 8 weeks or so! Still it was horrible and not an experience I want to repeat, consciously or subconsciously. Grub must have known as s/he woke me up with such forceful kicking and tumbling as if to say "oi! Mum! We'll have less of that, I'm right here". I remember Bertie doing the same thing after a similar dream with him. Anyway then I was wide awake again enjoying being beaten up from the inside for a while but eventually had to have a word and try to get baby to settle. I did need more sleep! "This is really cute and everything Grub, but for the love of God go back to sleep so I can too, ok?" I needed daddy, he always settles Grub down.

Speaking of daddy, he has not had the best start to the day. Three door mice on our hallway floor this morning. Three. Now The Cat is a bit of an opportunist hunter really. She doesn't bring regular gifts but occasional ones, when she feels like it.  Since I have been in (six days) that makes five mice. Not good. After the first two I thought ok, she knows somethings up, wonders where I am and is out of routine. She'll settle down. After three more I am now worried that she is actually pining for me! Ok lay it on thick Pips, as if I don't feel bad enough already! Any suggestions on how to calm a cat that misses her human? Apparently Mr T just ain't got the cat play skills.... I am thinking drugs. Catnip and feliway. Maybe this card from a friend was pre-emptitive!





Otherwise, still doing OK! The domestics like me becuase I am polite and nice to them. The midwives like me becuase I never need anything.  I am an outpatient inpatient, largely self sufficient, other than needing to have my meals brought.  My day has become very structured, I know when to expect ward round, midwife visit, domestic to do my bins, domestic to do my floors, domestic to offer to change me bedding, lunch, dinner, 5pm stomach injection.....Aah, although midwife Amy  fooled me yesterday on that. I was expecting her and listening out for the drugs trolley rolling down the corridor. She came in holding the syringe without bringing the trolley so I was suprised! Sneaky! 
A little irritating is the playground bell they like to use to announce meals are in the dining room, and again when they want visitors to leave. What makes it more irritating is that neither apply to me anyway! Oh flip. I really am becoming institutionalised aren't I? 

Sunday 5 June 2016

The longest I've been pregnant.

4th June
I have just realised that we are past time time that Bertie was born, he was 40 mins old by this point.  After a little mental celebration, I just burst into tears! Why? I don't know. I think a mix of sadness for him, relief at being still pregnant and fear for how much longer I will be -all mixed up with a sleepless night becuase I was so terrified I would start contracting and sleep through it!

We are by no means out of the woods. I am still scared. I wish it could have been different for my first son. I wish he were at home today driving his dad crazy missing me as much as I miss him right now.

I'll update more tomorrow.

....................................

5th June
Well here we are at.....(drum roll please!)


So yesterday ended up being quite an emotional day, with all sorts of feelings mixed up in a messy soup with homesickness added in for a bit of spice. Today I feel better. It's amazing what a good night's sleep and clean sheets can do to boost your morale!

So from now on, everything is new. I have never experienced being this pregnant before, so I cannot compare how I feel to last time. That's probably a good thing. Bring on the third trimester! Since I am mostly supine, I am hoping to avoid cankles and piles....but will embrace stretch marks if they come as a sign that Grub is growing.  Speaking of growing, I'd better get on with knitting a bigger prem sized hat for them as the last one I did was at 24 weeks and would likely be too small now-hurrah!

Here are my knitting efforts so far (still waiting for delivery of buttons for cardi, but at least it is no longer a tank top!


Saturday 4 June 2016

The Chronicles of Bed Rest:Day 14

3rd June

So day three of admission.  Not quite institutionalised yet, but my day does revolve around a fixed pattern of meals and midwife/doctor/domestic visits.  My room (cell) is looking cheerier already since Mr T brought in a canvas print for me, and a photo of Bertie to display. It was lovely when one of the midwives noticed and chatted about him.  Looking forward to gradually transforming the space over the next few weeks.  Haha, how very "changing rooms".  Just as well I can't get to a haberdashers or hardware store! It is surreal to realise that the next time I leave this room I will either be in labour or have made it to 32 weeks. I am learning lessons in accepting I don't have control. Letting go. Even now, after everything, there are still lessons to learn. 

My biggest frustration so far is that I have attempted 23 crosswords from my puzzle book, and haven't managed to fully complete one of them! The best I have managed is two clues remaining. Gah! The next visitor I have is going to have to help me finish these!!

I am surprised to find that I actually feel better being here. I resisted coming in as long as possible (until it was clinically necessary) because I thought that being in would give me too much time to focus on worries. But amazingly I am extremely calm, just knowing that I am here, the pressure is slightly off me to recognise any problem and get here ASAP, and the care I may need is right here. Any concerns I just press the buzzer and it's up to the professionals to decide what's going on.  SCBU know about us and are prepared, not that we plan to need them just yet. Besides, I am busier than ever with visitors every day, so no time to fret :) 

If I let myself think about it, I do feel sad that I can't be out and about enjoying a normal third trimester.  I am sad that once again, I have just disappeared from work one day rather than getting the send off I hoped for this time.  It looks highly unlikely I will have a natural delivery with immediate skin to skin and minimum intervention- I have now been informed I will need IV antibiotics as soon as labour begins and of course there is the fact that in all likelihood Grub will be going straight off to SCBU on delivery.  I do feel a sense of loss of these things.  It appears that "normal" and "pregnancy" don't go together in my case. There's that lesson again: Let it go. 

Tomorrow is 26+3.   Bertie's gestation.   This is a different pregnancy, different situation, different outcome.  My favourite midwife (the boss) is off for the weekend, so I promised her I would still be pregnant on Monday. Hurrah for new mini-goals! 

Update: Mr T has arrived with a parcel! Exciting. Care package from Bertie and Grub's aunty. Good book, fudge, face cooling spray and hallelujah a FAN! Fan all the way from Chelsea flower show apparently, before we even knew this was going to happen. Someone nudged her :) Here is me looking beautiful with my fan. 




Thursday 2 June 2016

The Chronicles of Bed Rest: Day 13

I think I'm getting the hang of this now. The lovely midwives moved me to a side room yesterday, so now not only do I have my own private space and bathroom, I have a window that opens and a view of trees and sounds of birdsong. In a pretty shitty situation, this is a real blessing for which I am most grateful. I said I was happy to stay sharing, and they said no, we hope you are going to be with us a long time, so you need your own room. I love their optimism and care! 

The downside is I do feel quote isolated with little to no human interaction, unless I use the bell to call someone, which I was forced to do for the first time this morning to request my breakfast. Second boob-I accidentally pressed the emergency bell as couldn't find anything else-I'd knocked the call bell off the wall in my sleep!  It is very out of character for me to ask for things like that but I know I have to be selfish for the time being. I'm sure I'll get used to it!

Sleep was better last night, even if I now not only need my body pillow for back, knees and bump, but a shoulder one to stop it hurting and then an extra head one so my head is above my shoulder! #pillowfortress

So I decided I need to establish a routine, to prevent me going completely stir crazy, so this morning I've given it a go. So far my day has looked like this: 

4am, awake due to older person on the next ward calling out loudly- clearly in some great degree of distress/pain, combined with continued and repeated bell calling for a nurse. Decide to take advantage of being able to get on the hospital wifi whilst everyone else is asleep- sneaky! 

5.30am. Look up and bookmark some exercises I can do during bed rest. Basic ankle and leg stretching to avoid DVT, and back/shoulder/neck stretching to ease the discomfort in my upper body caused by laying head down/hips up 90% of the day. 

6.30am -call for breakfast. Have to use my knitting scissors to open the cornflakes packet. Seriously, am I that weak already or have Kellogg's just gone overboard with the glue on this batch? Delicious cup of tea makes a glorious change from water/orange squash. 

7am. Shower. Decided to try and limit to every other day, to minimise time on my feet. Felt so good, hard to restrict time to 10mims! Take advantage of teeth cleaning at sink to do some pelvis tilts and calf stretches.  Have to get lovely anti-DVT support stockings back on. Where is that little plastic bag the student midwife used over my foot to do this yesterday?  I thought getting normal socks on at home was getting hard with this belly, this is something else! May need to get midwife help with this in a couple of weeks! 

Remember with delight that Mr T brought me the big tub of E45! Will help so much with the eczema I am getting on my upper arms from laying on them causing pressure points.  Also-useful to get the stockings on! 

Dressed, back to bed. Whole getting up routine took 20mims out of bed. Need to streamline. Don't want to lose my shower privileges too! Realise heart is pounding. Wow, I really have lost stamina fast! Scary! 

7.20am. Daily bible reading. Lots of helpful scripture during my stay so far. Decide to write good verses out for daily reminders. Text Mr T to ask for blue tack so I can put up any cards that come (hint!) ;) 

No further joy with wifi, cheat and use 3G. Must watch my data limit here! New message, someone else wants to come visit me! I am now booked up until mid next week. Feeling very loved and blessed. Very grateful for the care, friendship, and prayer so many people are extending.

8am. Write this blog (offline, hurrumph). Realising bed rest may also become digital detox! 

Plan for rest of day? May have to crack open a puzzler....! 

Emotion wise, feeling alright.  Grub is showing no sign of making an appearance...but then, Bertie didn't either-until he did. Two more days until we reach his gestation, three until we  beat it. Yes, I am encouraging sibling rivalry already!  My room is full of post natal information posters eg feeding, baby bathing lessons, co sleeping etc. Makes me wonder daily if I will need this info this time. Feel sad at the realisation that I won't get to do my antenatal classes, again. Another birth clueless then! Glad I at least have my old pregnancy book, the mechanics can't have changed that much, right?  I've informed work it looks likely I won't be back until after maternity leave. Also feel sad about that. I really wanted the proper send off this time, not to just disappear one day like last time. Oh well, what is important is that Grub is safe and stays in as long as possible. I didn't want a baby shower anyway for obvious reasons so we will just have to have a coming home party instead!   

I read this morning that every day in the womb means two less days in NICU. That's encouraging! This baby is still kicking up a storm in there, probably because I am so sedentary, s/he never gets rocked to sleep! Mr T always manages to calm them, he reckons Grub's a daddy's girl :) 

Sorry for the daily updates, probably quite dry reading! Trying to avoid over-blogging but boredom sets in quickly!



Update: Consultant has just been to see me. "let's get to 30weeks". Amen to that. I may need blood thinning injections as I'm pretty immobile, she'll work out my risk- ok! I asked would they attempt to stop labour if it begins now that I have had the steroids. Yes, as long as we realised soon enough so I must report any twinge. I would also be given magnesium for the baby's brain. If I am still pregnant in two weeks time, I still need the GTT. Rats! Lol. Will be done up here though rather than down in clinic. Double rats, was hoping for a morning out! Pleased to hear I can bring in pictures etc to make it homely. Would love some encouraging scripture art so have set some local creative friends of the case :) we can do this Grub. We can. And we will. 


Wednesday 1 June 2016

The Chronicles of Bed Rest:Day 12

So I have now been admitted to hospital. My cervix is down to 0.7cm on average. It is too late to intervene surgically so we just have to wait. I am not entirely suprised, I saw this coming weeks ago. I feel a little cross that they decided to go with the wait and see approach, but I did agree to it as the reasoning made sense at the time. Of course, hindsight is 20:20.

So, the plan is strict bed rest until either I deliver, or 32 weeks, whichever comes first. If I get to 32 weeks they *may* let me go home. It seems an impossible target right now, so I am sticking to my own goal of 30 weeks, which is four weeks today. I have already made a preemie hat, and am working on a cardigan. Of course, if born now Grub wouldn't be able to wear the cardigan, but it gives me a thing to do and makes me feel better to know that they will have an outfit...if it comes to dressing them forever. They can use the hat anyway :) as the weeks go on if I am still pregnant I will make slightly bigger ones.

I have my wrist band, no ankle tag just yet ;) I have asked a friend to find me a little calendar so I can tick off the days. Thought I may get told off for doing tallys on the walls!

Of course, first morning here and I have already made a boob! The midwife told me yesterday I was fine to go for loo breaks, showers and to the dining room down the corridor to have my meals. So I wandered down for breakfast just to find when I asked where I should leave my used tray, they were planning to bring all my meals to me "becuase you're on bed rest!" Oops. So that's another priveledge gone :/. Of course I will do whatever it takes to get this baby home alive and if that means breakfast lunch and dinner in bed, so be it! At least it isn't sunny today :)

Feelings are mixed. There is so much prayer, which really is helping. I am trying to focus on the positives. They have given me the steroids, and are aware of the situation, and I am here. All putting Grub in a better position than Bertie. However, I am still just 26 weeks, and even with the steroids, the risks are high. Pregnancy is supposed to last 40 weeks for a reason! They do appear to have done something though, Grub was pounding away like Popeye all night long and is at it again now!

I am glad on the one hand we went away last weekend and got some photos and memories. On the other I am questioning whether I should have been stricter with my rest at home.  Again, hindsight is 20:20 and at that time things were stable.

I am now waiting for Dr ward round where hopefully I may be given a better idea of my chances of getting to 30 weeks. I am expecting the "if only we had a crystal ball" speech, but need to ask the question.

Fortunately, hubby is off this week so he is able to come in regularly for the next few days to keep me company and bring things I need to make the stay more comfortable and bearable. Besides knitting I expect I'll do some professional development, and I wonder how God will use this time with me? I certainly am not too busy for Him now am I?

I already miss home, hubby and cat. but I am still pregnant, and right now that is the most important thing.






Wednesday 25 May 2016

The Chronicles of bed rest: Day 6

Grub and I have made it through another week! 25 weeks today.  After a couple of weeks of worry over no weight gain, today I am pleased to see I have gained almost 5lbs :) Grub's had a growth spurt and it's so reassuring!

After a weekend away visiting family for one last time, I am now firmly planted on the sofa with the weight off my feet (and cervix!) I am so glad we had the weekend at home- with our consultant's permission of course.  Whilst I still stayed off my feet as much as possible, we also made happy memories with family and it took our minds off the situation. We visited Bertie for what may be the last time before his sibling arrives, and got a family photo at his foreverbed. Bittersweet. I did catch myself wondering if next time we go will be to bury Grub beside him, and eyeing up was there room? I quickly quashed that thought though. Not. Going. To. Happen. No. Not.

Today I am passing the time thinking about packing the hospital bag. I've drawn up two lists- what I would want/need if I were admitted for strict bedrest, and another for incase I go into labour.  It's tricky to actually pack when we don't know which way things will go, but I suppose I ought to pack the emergency bag unless/until they tell us otherwise.

I am waiting on a delivery of yarn, so I can start knitting a preemie hat and cardigan for Grub. This is really for the worst-case-scenario.  Going out to buy something for Bertie, and it still being far too big for him despite being a "premature baby" outfit is not a happy memory. Of course, I hope never to need what I intend to knit but if we do...."at least" we will have it, and I will know Grub will forever wear his/her first outfit lovingly knitted by mummy. 

It all still feels quite surreal and theoretical. Packing, like having my notes with me, gives a sense of control over an uncontrollable situation. No matter what, we will have what I need, and what Grub needs. We're ready for this, practically, if not mentally/emotionally. Be prepared for the worst, whilst hoping for the best is the latest mindset.

Tomorrow we go back to the hospital for dildo cam, to tell us if my cervix is behaving or if I need emergency surgery or admission. Steroids have been mentioned- to mature Grub's lungs should s/he make an appearance. Getting them will be both reassuring, and scary, as it means they think the baby will come soon-but if they do their lungs will have had a boost. We shall see tomorrow I suppose. Maybe nothing will have changed as we'll get another week's grace.

Speaking of grace, I must say I am feeling mostly at peace. Thankyou to everyone who is praying for that- it is working. 


Friday 20 May 2016

The Chronicles of Bed Rest: Day 1

Ok, so I'm not technically of full bed rest just yet, but I have been signed off work for the next six weeks and adviced to "take it easy with my feet up". My cervix has shortened further, to below the normal range for this gestation, and the idea is to try to get me to the next goal of 30 weeks. If I am still pregnant then, we will reassess and I may be allowed to go back to work part-time- hurrah!

So today has been my first proper day of trying to sit still. To avoid total insanity I have been out to see a friend for an hour, but otherwise my day has revolved around the sofa, the downstairs loo and the kitchen.

Things I have learned:

It isn't fun. Trust me I would rather be at work! My back and hips ache and it is actually really hard to find a position on the sofa that is comfortable for more than an hour.   I need to stretch and move!

Google is NOT my friend. Ok, so I technically learned this during IVF, but today I have discovered it is even more evil than I imagined. After an hour of searching for "cervix 1.5cm at 24 weeks" I was convinced I was going to lose the baby unless I lay on my left side in bed all day every day and only allowed myself loo breaks and showers every other day.  Hmm. I choose to trust my highly knowledgeable and experienced doctor over random internet strangers, thanks. Sofa and moving around it is. For now. Google be damned.

Online grocery shopping is a pain in the bum! I dislike grocery shopping, it's a chore I realy could just do without, but have always done it and avoided online delivery becuase I like to choose my own veg and make sure things have long dates. We've got it down to a fine art, personal best time is 25 mins for the weekly shop! That's becuase we plan ahead, take a list, and know where everything is in the shop. (Set me loose in an unfamiliar supermarket and it's a half a morning saga...!)  I have just completed my first online shop in the shocking time of 1 hour ten mins! ugh! It's a minefield! The way they categorize products is different to how I would, so just finding stuff is tricky for a start. I also discovered that my "list" is actually not all that complete, as I know my usual stuff and grab it as I see it on the way round. Heaven knows if we have a complete shop heading our way, or if I have just blown the budget on a load of random stuff and no actual complete meals. I'm assured it will get quicker and easier as the site learns and remembers my "favourites". It better had!

The Cat has seeminly enjoyed my company today, with lots of co-snoozing on the sofa, cat against bump.  As far as I know she didn't get kicked.  That was interrupted with a mutual jump when my phone went off- Mr T sending a text to check how I was, aww.  Apart from the pounding heart rate and adrenaline shot from being woken up mid-dose, OK thanks honey!

We are going away this weekend, father in law's 70th. Heading home. Where Bertie was born. Doctor says it is OK, but to have the hospital phone number and my notes handy.  Bit nervous about it, but we decided that it is unlikely I will go into labour this weekend, and I can sit on our parents' sofas just as easily as my own. I do need to try and live my life.  We have already had the discussion that should the worst happen, we would want them buried with Bertie anyway....Stop those thoughts right there. I have a whole 1.5cm of cervix and it isn't going anywhere in the next three days.   Check up again in a week.  We are all hoping my cervix will just stay the length it is now.  Apparently my risk of spontaneous preterm labour if it does is just 3.6%.   I find that unlikely given my history, and the fact I've been losing a cm every 1-2 weeks.   I expect it'll be down again and I may be admitted for strict bed rest. So, a visit home for one last hurrah and one last visit to Bertie before his sibling makes their appearance. Hopefully not in the next six weeks!

Tuesday 17 May 2016

24 weeks

Thoughts out of my head and on to the screen. Read, or not, as you wish.

Tomorrow I will be 24 weeks pregnant.  It's the milestone in pregnancy where the baby is considered to be "viable". An awful term that means they have the potential to survive outside the womb, so doctors will do everything possible to save the baby if they are born from now.  (Well, four hours from now to be exact.  Given my birth history, there's still time.) In short, it is the point where the baby changes from being considered a "miscarriage" to a human being.

I've been waiting with baited breath to get to this point. 24 weeks has been the new 12 weeks for, well the last 12 weeks.  Morbid thoughts of "at least they would help us now."  This baby isn't even born yet and already I am looking for the "at leasts".   It is small comfort of course. Bertie came at 26+3 and didn't make it.  Still, a chance is better than none.

Paranoia has set in. I have been carrying my maternity notes around with me everywhere since 22 weeks. Is that paranoia? Or sensible? It is one thing I can control.  History won't repeat in that respect (at least...!). I won't go into labour without having my notes. Win. Control. Or the feeling of control anyway.   Or, I won't be able to blame myself for not having had them anyway.  Damage limitation perhaps.

My mind is in a constant state of flux. I spent most of this morning in a state of near panic at work.  Triggered in part by seeing a little boy, one of triplets born at 26 weeks. He is now six and has multiple physical and mental limitations. Bam. A reminder that it isn't simply a case of keeping them alive, but what happens to them if we do?  Also a mix of joy for her that she has her son, and jealousy that I don't have mine. Worry that Grub will come too soon too. Would s/he live? What would that life look like? 

Every twinge, every ache, every normal pregnancy gripe becomes a sign of pre-term labour in my mind when the flux shifts to maximal fear and worry. Then, a few hours later, I will be making plans for 6, 8, 10 weeks time, planning on still being pregnant! It's an exhausting merry-go-round only someone forgot to bring the "merry".

Sleep eludes me. Well, quality, refreshing sleep anyway. The current pattern is nod off at a reasonable hour, but wake up in the early hours-3am ish is a popular time for my bladder to join the party- then lay awake praying for Grub. Because, you know, maybe I didn't pray enough for Bertie.  Faith settles my mind. Prayer, more than mindfulness, works for me.  But, there is the seed of doubt because Bertie. Still. Died. God may have a plan bigger than I can understand and be working it all out for our good. But, I know how hard and painful the road of grief is to walk and I just don't want to do it again. Thankyou.

Crossness. Yes, crossness is a word in this context, that we can't just have, after everything, a straightforward pregnancy. Jealousy of those who do/did. Still not really feeling willing or able to join in with pregnancy talk or birth stories. I think that one may surprise a few people, some will get it.   I'm playing a game with my patients at work, "when are you due?" "Is it your first?" "You must be so excited!" All answered with a smile and the expected response. Because, "Well, September but at the moment I am just hoping for July at the earliest; no, I have a son in Heaven; and yes, but it's tempered with overwhelming fear most of the time" probably won't go down too well! So, we dance the dance and each say what polite society expects of a pregnant woman and a person she is seeing in a professional capacity. They leave happy. I feel drained.

Truth. Thoughts out of my head and on the screen.

Monday 2 May 2016

Is this your first? A post for mummies expecting rainbows.

As I started to show enough for strangers to be confident enough to assume I was expecting, I began to dread this question.  What would I say? I tried to come up with a plan for what I would say and how I would handle it.  Would I say "yes" and then feel guilty? Or would I say "no", and then have to face the follow up questions that would inevitably follow? I scoured forums looking for advice on this from women who'd been there.

In the event, it just happened, and it just felt right to say yes. I was at work, it was a patient who was crossing paths with me for 20 minutes.  I needed to maintain professionalism and did not want to reveal the deepest, most sensitive part of myself in that moment.   So, "Yes" it was. Something along the lines of "oh, you must be so excited!" followed; whilst I outwardly smiled and nodded, and inwardly cringed and apologized to my son.  After that first time, it has gotten easier. My rule now is, strangers get the "yes." Anyone I am likely to form a lasting relationship with in any way, gets the truth.

And it's OK.  

I know Bertie doesn't mind. People who would have met and known him, know about him.  Who else matters? I could speak about him to a stranger, upset myself, and they will feel sad for me for a few minutes, before moving on with their life and forgetting the both of us.  So really, why spoil their day and mine? What is interesting to think about is whether I would have, could have, thought about it this way had I conceived this second baby within a year, or two, or even three of Bertie's death.  Not that the four 1/2 year wait has made the issues around a rainbow pregnancy any easier per se- my grief has settled enough that it feels alright not to mention Bertie sometimes, to some people, in some situations.  I know in the early weeks and months the idea of not mentioning him was unbearable to me, like I was denying his existence, and denying my status as a mother.   What time has given me is the perspective that those who matter, know. And everything else is just expectations I have been putting on myself.

If I get that far...

The sentence I have probably uttered the most this pregnancy is "if I get that far."  I say it after answering every question (from people who know me and our story) along the lines of when I am due, or when I will be finishing work.   And, considering they know what happened last time, they are always really taken aback and reply "what do you mean?" or "Of course you will get that far" or my personal favorite "you'll be fine this time!" All well meant, of course, and by writing this I am not moaning about or criticising any of that.  It is just an observation that has surprised me.  The truth is, no-body knows that we will be fine this time, no-body can say for sure that I won't deliver early.  My only experience of pregnancy is pre-term labour, and the death of my son.  So please forgive me for being- not fatalistic, but realistic.  It's my pregnancy-version ofknocking on wood I guess.

I wasn't expecting these reactions though. I suppose I should have. The thought of one baby dying was too much for a lot of people to contemplate, so to even allude to the fact it could possibly happen again is not something people want to have to deal with.  I get it.  But, I do have to deal with it. I can't stick my head in the sand and tell myself everything will be fine. Every time my baby kicks, I do not simply feel reassured that he or she is OK, I am reminded of how strong they are, of how strong Bertie was, and how my body let us down.  How, he wasn't strong enough for that.   I am, in all truthfulness, not living in fear of history repeating. However, I am no longer naive and no can longer assume that I will trot into the labour ward a day after my due date and achieve my perfect-totally-planned-out-in-advance-birth.  I'm taking it a week at a time, sometimes a day. Every night I pray my thanks to God for another day with Grub, and ask for His protection over us both.   My big goal is 30 weeks. At 30 weeks there's a good chance they'll survive, unscathed.  That seed was planted after Bertie died, when we (our family) all started taking about how if he'd just stayed in another month or so, things could have been so different.  So, 30 weeks it is. Then I will maybe stop knocking on wood.  40 weeks just seems incomprehensible to me right now. 

Saturday 16 April 2016

*THE FEAR* has set in

Yesterday we had Grub's anomaly scan. Lovely, 30 mins of looking in detail at our baby...who turns out to be perfect, as far as a scan can tell hurrah! So we head through to fetal medicine unit for my serial cervical length scan on cloud nine.

"I just need to check what your length was last time...I can't quite remember....," trills the lovely nurse. Oh crap. It's short then....trills my now overworking mind.  Yep. Turns out it has changed from 4.5cm at 15 weeks to 3.3cm now at 19+2.  She took great pains to reassure me that this is still within normal limits, and the cervix is not funnelling etc. OK, fine. But a 1.2cm drop in 3 weeks? Not good is it? She chatted with consultant who wants it repeated in 2 weeks. OK, seems sensible, we'll see if it is on a downward trajectory, or if its just going to stay at 3cm.

Left feeling fine and rational. But overnight I've managed to work myself into a bit of a panic. I'm scared. What happens if it thins out more? There's a little graph in my notes, to plot the lengths at each scan, and if it carrys on at this rate guess what? I'm headed right for preterm labour at 26 weeks. Oh no. No no no no. Please no.

baby is fine...baby is fine...baby is fine.....but my body isn't. What if I let us all down again?

I guess this is it now. Abject fear until I (hopefully) reach 35 weeks when my fear of pre-term labour will give way to my fear of stillbirth. Marvellous.

Wednesday 30 March 2016

Middle trimester musings

I'm 17 weeks today! How did that happen? In all honesty I never thought we'd get this far, and I'm relieved and glad to say we have.  It's going very quickly. I thought this would be the longest 9 months of my life, but so far it has gone by in a flash.  That's great, and not-so-great at the same time. Whilst I want to fast forward to the day we bring home our healthy rainbow baby, I also want time to stop so that I can stay being pregnant for as long as possible. Because, whilst I am pregnant, the baby is alive, and we are happy. 

I am handling this pregnancy much better that I expected though, psychologically I mean. I have only had the one major meltdown as I recorded here, and two dreams about losing the baby. I think that's pretty impressive for 17 weeks! It has of course entered my mind that if things go the same way as last time, I only have 9 weeks left. That is a really scary thought and not one I am letting myself dwell on.  Truthfully, I am not living every day in fear of losing the baby, but at the same time, I am unable, so far, so see a day where we actually bring a baby home. I guess I have finally mastered the art of living in the moment- for self preservation if nothing else. I am still taking it a week, even a day at a time and living by my mindset of right now, everything is OK. 

We just spent an amazing week in Iceland, made all the more special by Grub giving me a good kick for the first time on Easter Saturday.  That evening, we got our first real sight of the northern lights too.  Eskimos in Greenland used to believe that the lights were the spirits of dead infants who were dancing in happiness in heaven.  I like that a lot.  I felt so close to both of my babies that day.  We also managed to find and buy Grub's life album.  It is a beautiful blank album which we will fill with memories of Grub's life.  We did the same foe Bertie- his was bought on holiday in Italy when I was pregnant with him, so it is super special that we found one in Iceland for his little sibling.  That is the first thing we have bought for this baby so far. I have just felt no desire at all to buy anything, which is a total contrast to last time, when I had bought the whole of Mothercare by 20 weeks! It isn't just that we already have most things we need, still unused and pristine.  It's that I just don't want to buy it. Maybe it's the self preservation thing again.  Buying the life album felt OK, because I know that will be used no matter what happens.  Bertie's is a record of my pregnacy and his short life, and whilst of course we hope and pray daily that this time the album will be a lot fuller, it still felt OK to buy it as I know no matter what, it will be used and cherished forever.


Saturday 20 February 2016

Mummy's sorry sweetheart.

I almost made it out of the first trimester, but I've just had my first major cry since finding out I am pregnant again. I have that Facebook memories thing set up and apparantly four years ago today I posted "mummy's sorry sweetheart". Bam, instantly I was catapulted back in time and remembering exactly how I was feeling that day. How I still feel, to a much lesser degree. Guilt. Now, I know it wasn't my fault, I know I did everything I could, I know nobody could have foreseen what was to happen. And yet. I was his mummy, he was reliant on me and my body let us both down.

And I am so scared it will happen again. It's the first time I've allowed myself to acknowledge that.  Yes, I was super-paranoid about an early loss but since getting over that it's all been researching VBAC vs elective Caesarian...blithely assuming I'll get that far, get that choice.

What if I don't?

What if I DO?

Will bringing this baby home tear open old wounds (literally, or metaphorically?) Will I feel the enormous new guilt of enjoying my new baby whilst knowing that Bertie never made each milestone? Will watching his little sibling grow up make me miss him even more? Is that even possible?

My body is heaving with sobs and my heart aches with missing him. With guilt of letting him down, with wondering: if I knew I had PCOS would I have caved into my craving for haribo starmix so much? Was my blood sugar too high? Did that do it? He wasn't ready to come, he was so high in my womb like he wanted to stay. He should have stayed. If I had then the care I am getting now, would things have been different?  Will getting this care now make this time any different? I look four-five months after a big meal already, am I putting on too much weight this time? Am I overeating? Eating the wrong things?  People are noticing, asking me is it my first? What do I say to that?

Oh God. Please help me.