38 weeks and a day

Meaning that there are only 13 days until my due date, the date that has been etched on my mind for nine months now.

Last week's midwife appointment was exciting in that she told me that the baby is 3/5 engaged. I thought he/she must be because my heartburn was a lot less than it had been. I next see her on Tuesday when I'll be 38+6, then after that I'll be on to weekly appointments! this can only mean that things are scarily close!

How do I feel? Impatient, a bit scared, very excited.  How's M feeling? Pretty much the same! Every time I wince at a pain (i.e. a baby headbutting cervix pain or hip pain) he looks all concerned and does a few deep breaths!

Full term bump:

38 weeks:

What am I worried about? Visitors, feeling overwhelmed by it all, not knowing when or how it's all going to happen.  But these worries are mild; normal mum-to-be anxieties.  I actually feel like I am normal.  In fact, I had my last CBT last week and it was great! I just walked out and was happy.  My earlier pregnancy worries have vanished, and while my personality dictates that I will always have a bit of anxiety, the excessive worries I had have gone.  In fact, I'd forgotten the extent of them until I looked at the stuff that he'd noted down early on at the first appointments (November I think).  He even showed a graph of how I'd been rating things every time - a nice downward stepping pattern to virtually negligible anxiety at the last time.  I had forgotten how worried I was that ICSI meant he/she may have abnormalities.  I had forgotten how I couldn't switch off my brain and followed and chased thoughts about delivering early and having the baby not survive and how I would back up these chased thoughts with images in my head.  So my worries now about too many visitors, although not insignificant, are mind-numbingly boring worries in comparison.  And, above all, completely NORMAL.  I like the word normal.

I've been thinking about what kind of mum I'll make.   But then I'm reminded that I had the best teacher for motherhood, the best teachers for parenthood.  They taught me what being a parent should be like and, while I'll never claim to be perfect just as they didn't, I have had the best guidance to what being a parent is about; the best experiences to back it up.  I know that a lot of people can't say that.

I know mum would be so sad that she isn't here now; it saddens me too.  But it serves as a comfort to me (and would be to her if I could tell her) that she has taught me and shown me everything that I need to know already.  I'll always have questions for her, who wouldn't?  But, I know that I can hear her voice if I think hard enough.  I don't actually have to think that hard. I can think of how she would advise me, what she would say and I don't think I would be far wrong if she could tell me these things herself.  Her grandchild will get to know her through me (and his/her auntie) through all the funny stories we will share and because of the way we were parented; a way that was perfect for us, for our family.

This week I have been busy.  On Monday I was disappointed that I couldn't initiate my nesting instinct.  I knew I wanted to deep-clean the kitchen.  I had hope that I would suddenly be all "ooooo cleaning I can't wait!" when it clicked to Monday. It didn't happen.  Still, I managed to pluck up enough enthusiasm to do it and I ended up spending 2-3 hours cleaning.  I decided to go into town afterwards but as I was ambling along the high street I suddenly hit this wall of pain and tiredness.  I managed to hobble to the bank and then did the supermarket shopping.  M wanted to meet me in town but I really couldn't face it and so he saw me at home, stuck to the sofa, having found a pot of pasta sauce on the drive which I must have dropped in my haste to get the shopping inside so I could crash.

When he came in he gently told me off, as did my dad when I spoke to him later.  "You're supposed to be resting and taking it easy!".  I know, I know.  But sitting doing not a lot has never been me and, as I said to both of them, I felt fine at the time.  I never thought that I would pay for it later. But it has made me realise that, despite what they tell you about getting on all fours and scrubbing skirting boards being good for labour and baby's position, I really do have to pace myself.  I can't do as much now.  Having never been restricted movement-wise in my life before it's quite difficult to remember that I can't do certain things.  So, having had plans for Tuesday (seeing my bump buddy friend who's due on Saturday) and Wednesday (meeting the grandparents and cousin for lunch and shopping) I decided that today would be a lazy day.  It's really hard being lazy for me. I actually have felt guilty about it, spotting things to do! I have to admit I did put washing on, did put my clean clothes away, and did the last of the baby clothes ironing (for the last time I promise!).  We do have plans for tonight though!

Tonight is our tour of the hospital maternity suite.  On the 10th of March last year we had our IVF information session at the same hospital. So 364 days later ('cos it's been a leap year) we are having another information session but from the opposite perspective.  Unbelievable. Amazing! How things's can change in a year.

I've been thinking about this a lot - how things can change I mean. My friend who I saw on Tuesday gave me a book written by one of her best friends who would've been our age who died aged 22 of cancer.  Reading it I was so inspired by her and her positivity and I feel like I really got to know her.  She wrote about how you can measure a year and quoted the song from the musical Rent, Seasons of Love:

Five hundrend twenty five thousand 
six hundred minutes
Five hundrend twenty five thousand 
moments so dear
Five hundrend twenty five thousand 
six hundred minutes
How do you measure, measure a year

In daylight, in sunsets, in midnights, 
in cups of coffee, In inches, in miles
in laughter in strife,

In Five hundrend twenty five thousand 
six hundred minutes
How do you measure a year in the life?

Since then I have had this song as a kind-of ear-worm, constantly bobbing up from time to time. It reminds me of the last year, of what we have achieved.  How would I measure the last year?

Some of the ways I have measured the last year of my life have included by counting injections, pills, medicines, days in hospital, days to go, days to wait, symptoms.  For what? What purpose does my counting have after all? To outline just what a rough time I had?  I'm not going to deny that it was rough, it was horrible, and it was and is still the biggest and scariest thing that I have ever had to endure.  But, that's it. It's almost over now (or just beginning!) and I have (or nearly have) all that I have ever dreamed of.

I went through 'all' of that.  A few short months.   Compared to the person who put that song into my head it is nothing. Nothing at all.  It made me think of mum, of course. Of what she endured.  How she never moaned even on her darkest of days.  She was inspirational, too.

I'm no inspiration.  I'm not special.  I'm just a normal girl who (selfishly?) wanted a baby and who has (almost) got one.  These people, who endure illness forever, for the rest of their days, who suffer indescribably, do they moan?  I've found that they are (generally speaking) happy people, people who are grateful for all they have, all they have done and seen, and all they are.  They don't pity themselves.

I should measure my year in those moments where you just 'be' and savour things.  Measure it in smiles, in laughs, in cuddles, even in copious amounts of cat-fluff that appear from nowhere after I've just swept the floor.  Measure it in the kicks I feel in my tummy, even measure it in the few stretch marks that have started to appear.  I don't mind these stretchmarks.  They're nothing.  They're not scars of pain or cancer, they're the marks of mummy-hood; marks for which I am grateful as I got what I wanted, what I needed, when so many people's scars are true scars. I could measure my year in the friendships I've nurtured and grown, in the children whom I've taught, who've said "I get it, Miss!", not in the number of detentions I have given out or the reports I've completed.  I should measure it in the number of thank you and good luck cards I have received, the number of presents, both for me and the baby - symbols of how lucky and loved we are.

I know that what I have been through isn't insignificant.  It certainly hasn't been from our perspective and I think it would bother me if I or others thought it was.  Infertility does leave scars too.  Yet, now those scars may start to heal and we are coming out of the other side, the lucky ones. The incredibly lucky ones. The ones for whom it worked, who get to take home a baby at the end.  Our nightmare is over.

I am the happiest I've ever been since those naive days of childhood when my sister and I used to play mummies with our black baby-dolls given by grandma, with their short afro hair and knitted outfits, making them cots from cardboard boxes and copious amounts of sellotape.  I am happy, albeit tainted with the loss of my mum, but still happy because she would be happy. She would want us to be happy more than she would want anything else.

So, now, every time I see another pile of cat fluff, I will be grateful. Grateful that it's there at all, that I am here, now, only having to worry about cat fluff.  Not worrying that I'll never be a mummy or that I'll even live another year. I feel inspired to seize every moment, just as these inspirational people have done. How would you measure your year?
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Third Trimester!

I feel like I am neglecting this blog! I honestly thought I would post weekly throughout my pregnancy but I guess things just get in the way and I end up too busy or not feeling up to it for whatever reason.  So, apologies if you keep checking for updates and finding it still the same!

I'll do an update for each week so far since I last posted!

24 weeks - baby is viable.

We celebrated by going baby shopping! We bought a few things for bathing the baby - a bath seat/rest etc. We also bought the snowman book and little toy.  Daddy read the bump the story book and cried at the snowman melting (as he did when he was a child too at the film!).

People have been commenting that my bump is small/isn't growing.  And of course this has got me worried.  

25 weeks

After people saying I was small last week, the day I took this picture I felt much bigger.  Even the school kids noticed and one went to touch my bump.  I also went to the midwife and measured perfectly at 25.5cm at 25+1.  If I continue to grow at this rate then I will be predicted an 8lb baby as I'm just above the 50th Centile.  I am so happy that I am normal sized.  I was beginning to get worried.

We also went to a private antenatal class that I'd won in a competition.  It was brilliant! There were two other couples and one couple are our friends who are 10 days ahead of us. It was a really good day and Mr Waiting wore the 'empathy belly' for a couple of hours! I definitely feel more prepared and knowledgeable now.  Seeing a model cervix at 10cm was worrying though! I also started to think more about labour and panic a bit more about that. As you can see my anxiety is not any better.

26 weeks
This week I had my counselling appointment and assessment.  It was really hard explaining why I was so anxious and upset about things to do with my pregnancy.  I realised that I do a lot of visualising of horrible things, things about giving birth early, about the baby dying etc, and even about Mr Waiting being involved in some kind of horrific accident.  I follow these images through with thoughts about what I would do in that situation and even go as far as planning funerals in my head.  It is very distressing.  As a result, the counsellor is going to start working with me immediately and I have had another appointment this week too, which I will write about in a moment.

We broke up for Christmas from school this week.  I have had a bout of sickness that Mr Waiting also had and it wore me out for a day or two, typically when I was trying to do some Christmas shopping.  Breaking up was exciting and stressful.  I felt and still feel like I have so much to do at home as well as at work (indeed I have brought home a big bag for life full of marking and I have no idea when I'm going to get all of it done!).

I didn't take a bump picture this week but here is a picture of our special bauble for the tree which we decorated last week:

We wanted to mark Stanley or Lucy's first Christmas in the world this year, even if they are still not born.  We  have also bought some Christmas presents for him/her.  We bought him three books and I bought him a little natural hair brush because I'm convinced he'll be born with hair if he's anything like mummy and daddy for hairiness! And I've wrapped it addressed for daddy to open because I've also bought daddy a brush that's the same but massive - it's a back brush.  Daddy has really bad eczema and gets itchy so a back brush is very useful.  He does worry that Stanley/Lucy will inherit his eczema and I know he will be quite upset if he/she does develop, although clearly it's not his fault.

27 weeks - THIRD TRIMESTER!
Unbelievable that I am in third trimester. I cannot believe it. Honestly, me, third trimester.  Stanley/Lucy is very very active quite often, to the point I do not worry about him/her as much.  Now my worries have been focussed on he/she not crying when he/she's born.  I want to hear that cry so much, to know he's ok.  I have also had stronger urges to know if he is a he or a she! I think partly because if anything happens I will want to know whether it's a Stanley or a Lucy.

The further on I get the more my worries change.  Things trigger my thoughts.  Just today as we drove past the cemetery I spotted (again) the baby graves in one corner.  My thoughts spiraled from there.  What if Stanley doesn't cry and is dead when he is? What if I have to plan the funeral? I thought of the songs I'd choose, the colour of the coffin, where I'd want it to be.  It's awful.  I don't just do this with Stanley, I've also done it for Mr Waiting if he's late back from somewhere. I end up torturing myself with these thoughts and anxieties.  Hopefully the counselling is going to help as today he gave me exercises to work through some of my issues and thoughts - there's a whole section in the booklet about "What if..." questions!

I am also worried that my worries won't stop after he is here.  Will I miss out on the best time of his and my life because my worries control so much of me? I feel like I am not enjoying pregnancy as I should be.  There are many moments that I feel really happy and really excited but typically I do not focus on these.

Here's a 3rd Trimester bump picture:

My belly button has gone flat now and is starting to pop out.  I feel so much movement - I can tell he is getting bigger and running out of room. I feel it really high up now too, just under my ribs.  I love feeling him move even though it is a little freaky! I still can't get used to it.  I'm looking forward to seeing my sister later as she hasn't seen me since 22/23 weeks I think so she is bound to think I am much bigger and I'm hoping that the baby kicks for her.  My dad still hasn't felt him move! I hope he does over Christmas.

I often see things poking out and my tummy jumping about. I also have felt a full rotation! I have no idea which way is which though, as in what's head and what's feet! I am looking forward to the midwife being able to tell which way he/she is laying at the next appointment in early January. I have 3 weekly appointments now, and soon it'll be one every two weeks. This only means one thing - that I'm getting closer to the end! I have 91 days until my due date today.  Oh my goodness, this is really happening!

I'm really looking forward to Christmas this year. It was so hard last year, being infertile, not knowing about the future, reliving mum's last moments and first anniversary of her death.  This year I am more focussed on Christmas, on things that are going to happen in the future and I am looking forward, despite my anxieties.  On Friday everyone is doing a Christmas walk for mum's favourite charity (the Holisitic Care centre that she went to for treatments when she was poorly).  We will decorate a tree for mum.

Next year, Christmas will be so different - we will have Stanley/Lucy and it will be their first Christmas.  It will be fantastic, I am sure of it.  They are going to be so spoiled by everyone.  I can't wait.

Daddy has been busy working on the nursery since we have broken up from school.  This is what the room looked like before:

And this is the first stage: clearing it out!

This is the room after the yellow paint (Lemon Ice) was done yesterday:

It actually looks brighter than it is. It's much better taking a photo in proper daylight, so I will try to do that this week.  Daddy has finished the skirting boards, frames and window sill today.  He has also taken up the old carpet and we have ordered a new one which will be fitted on the 5th January - the same day the furniture is getting delivered.  I am so excited about this.  It will start taking shape and we can start to put things together and accessorise the room.

I'm sure there will be more pictures to follow soon.  I'll be sure to do an update in January some time. 

Bump update

It's been an eventful two weeks since I last posted.  We found out that I was immune to slapped cheek which was such a relief. I ended up having a week off work in the end (which was more stressful than it sounds actually!).

During this time some other things happened which caused my pregnancy (and probably general) anxiety to reach a peak and I ended up having some panic attacks. It was pretty awful.  I went to see the GP who, although sympathetic, couldn't help much and offered me a phone number for a self-referring counselling service which I have inquired about and have an assessment appointment tomorrow.

After this, I returned to work on the Monday after being off for the week with the slapped cheek testing. About five metres onto the school site I fell over spectacularly.  Somehow I managed to turn over and land on my left side rather than my stomach, which was lucky. I was shaken and thankfully I was with Mr Waiting who was brilliant.  We went straight to the hospital (I'd phoned and asked for advice).  Once we got to the hospital I struggled to walk getting out of the car - I had shooting pains everywhere, particularly in my hips.  It was really scary.  They checked the baby's heartbeat and thankfully they found it really quickly.  It was a definite train sound this time (boy apparently!). After that I was relieved and the baby played ball and kicked mummy lots, which daddy felt too.  They gave me strong painkillers for the hip pain and I was there for about 3 hours.  The painkillers made me feel woozy so I went home and slept under the hospital's advice rather than  go back to work.

I also saw my midwife for a tearful appointment a few days later where I told her all about my worries and troubles.  She also listened to the heartbeat but couldn't find it for a minute - it felt like an absolute eternity and again I burst into tears.  After telling her of how I've been feeling, she suggested that antidepressants may be a solution but at the moment I can't contemplate putting a drug into my body that could have an effect on my tiny baby.

Talking of baby, he/she is now about 30cm long! His kicks are getting stronger and daddy feels them all the time.  I love feeling him kick but it's always a relief that he's still alive. Sounds mad doesn't it? I am constantly terrified that something will happen to him, our precious first baby. The midwife suggested that I attend aquanatal sessions so I'm just seeing about how that would all fit in with work.


There's so much more I want to write but I just can't get it out.  Maybe one day I'll feel able to say everything.  Suffice to say I'm struggling more emotionally than I'm letting on.  So I'll leave you with the most recent bump pictures.

22 weeks:

23 weeks:

Tomorrow is 24 weeks: Viability day.  We are going to celebrate with an Indian Takeaway.

Anxiety eating away at me

After the joy of the strong positive on Saturday I just can't relax now.  On Monday I confidently phoned the clinic to ask for my paper work to be sent through so that I could go to the GP to get some more progesterone pessaries.  Since then my confidence has waned.  I can't think straight and I can't think of anything else other than losing this baby.  I know technically he's a ball of cells still but it should be a well-formed blob now, starting to resemble a tadpole-esque baby.

I haven't had many concrete symptoms.  All I have to report is that my boobs are now a bit tender (I keep prodding them to check) and I have a few blue veins on them.  I am also really hungry all the time but this could just be greed or the last few weeks of illness catching up with me.  My OHSS tummy has gone down to what it was almost prior to egg collection and so I'm now worried that my hCG isn't high enough as surely it would've continued to grow/stayed the same.  I am also weeing often but I think this is more to do with getting rid of the fluid that's been hanging around my abdomen for the last couple of weeks. So all of these 'symptoms' can be explained.

Yesterday I got my hospital letter which states my "LMP" (not a real date) is the 17th June and that my EDD is the 22nd March.  The internet calculators I have used worked it out as being the 19th March.  So all in all I'm about five to five and a half weeks pregnant. It's not much is it? Every day is going so so slowly it's unreal.  I have to phone the clinic on the 1st August and they will arrange my scan for some time in the week commencing 8th August so it's still weeks away until we will see our baby again, hoping he's changed from the little white blob on the screen to a bigger blob with a beating heart. My biggest fear: That he's not there.  There is no baby.  He's stopped growing.  There's no heartbeat.  I am constantly looking up things online to try and make myself feel better but often I just feel worse.  So many people miscarry.  Most people can carry on and try again the next month.  Not us.  I just want to hold onto our embryo forever, til he's born screaming.  No one can guarantee that.  I know that I am lucky - we have got this far.  We are one of the 40% who get a positive test.  Let's just hope we're the 1 in 3 who take home a baby at the end.