Still Passing Open Windows ....

Bedrest again

Well, the dreaded week 19 hit last week and what do you know? I had a spotting episode on Wednesday. It wouldn't have been week 19 if there hadn't been some sort of crisis. Dr. Nice View responded beautifully and gave me an appointment 2 hours after I called him. He checked everything and it seems to have been a little blood vessel in the placenta that was bleeding. He said a while back that this was possible as the placenta starts to move up. Still, it was not fun.

He put me on bedrest until Sunday and Wednesday night I hardly slept, waking up every 15 minutes and tossing and turning to find a comfortable position. Thursday was better but on Saturday I was a mess, waking up at 5 am and crying. H woke up and comforted me sleepily and made me breakfast and I calmed down only to burst into tears later again.

Today all signs of bleeding seem to have stopped and I am feeling positively perky. I don't have to think five times before getting up to get myself a glass of water or come to the computer, I just do it although a little voice keeps saying, "Mmmm, not tooo much. Let's go back to the couch and lie down."

Family and friends have been great. We had visitors on Saturday and Sunday and it really helped to have something else to do. The only thing is that family worries so much. "Of course!" says H, "What do you expect?" The problem is that I worry constantly. Con Stant Ly. If I'm not worried about imagined pressure on the cervix, I am worrying about the amount of water I have drunk or if I have eaten any vegetables or whether I should be changing position to improve blood flow to the uterus. Once my family starts to worry and add their, "Shouldn't you be lying down?", to the mix, I am ready to unplug the phone. "Just tell them," says H but I can't. I feel like a bitch. I would rather be the passive bitch on the couch, lying there listening to the phone ring and ignoring it than the active one saying, "Your worry stresses me out." I blame my mother with her concern about presenting the perfect family image at all times and her advice that "If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." Isn't it bizarre, even lying here trying to prevent a premature birth, I can still worry about presenting the Perfect Pregnant Woman image? And let's not even look at my online persuals of the perfectly co-ordinated maternity outfit with matching shoes and matching jewellery. Somehow I think all my lack of style in normal times will be overcome now I am pregnant. Oh boy ... at least it gives me something to think about!

Cervix Chronicles

It is shorter.

The baby was casting a shadow so it was hard to measure but it seems to be shorter. Dr. NV is not worried. He says there are two big growth periods of the uterus - 20-24 weeks and 24-28 weeks - so it is entirely normal that we see a difference at this point. 'Just stay quietly at home for the next two weeks,' was all he said.

I am worried, of course. Trying not to, but still worried. I bought 11 balls of wool to attempt my first sweater to distract myself. I just couldn't decide on a colour though so I took a beige sort of colour. It seemed soothing.

Failing the urine sample

Geohde is taking a major exam tomorrow with talk of lumbar punctures and needles, and being on the operating end not the receiving end which sounds like it demands a high level of concentration and know-how. I, on the other hand (because this is all about me being my blog) cannot even pass a urine sample test my levels of concentration are so addled.

'I just need a urine sample,' says the assistant.

'Just thinking the same thing!' I say, gracefully sweeping past her and into the bathroom.

I sit down and think, 'Ooh, free panty liners, must take one. And must ask Dr. Nice View if a test should be done for XYZ. Oh yes, and use the mirror to finish my make-up.'

I finish and reach out and grab the toilet paper and suddenly think, 'Oops. I was here for a urine sample. Mmm ...'

How do you forget to give a urine sample in less than two minutes? Damn those free panty liners and my mother for teaching me NEVER, EVER to pass up a free sample. She has tins of mussels from the 1970's and I fail my urine test. Moral of the story: there truly is no such thing as a free lunch.

Gentle hope

I feel better this morning. I took my range of homeopathic remedies last night and slept much better. I used to have a wonderful homeopath, a small, quiet man who inspired hope. He fought off cancer with homepathic remedies but three years later it returned and he died a year ago. He is a great loss to the community as he was a rare person and I think he honestly did have a gift of healing. He was able to help me with several problems that had been bothering me and his remedies have always helped enormously when I am going through my worrying periods. I think part of his healing gift was just because he listened to you and took you seriously while at the same time gently moving you along. 

'We had a saying during the Second World War,' he said to me once as I was leaving despondently, '"On les aura", we used to say about the Germans, "We will get them,"' and he touched my arm lightly, 'Think of that, on les aura.'

I think of that often. I will have my children. I don't know how, if I will adopt them or bear them or find someone to help me carry them but over the past few years my desire has crystallised into a belief that I will have them.

Almost 18 weeks

Tomorrow will be 18 weeks. In a week and five days I will reach the day the last pregnancy ended and I am worrying.

I worry if my body is actually incapable of carrying a pregnancy to term. I worry that an infection actually had nothing to do with the last pregnancy ending way way too soon. I worry that another baby who is developing just fine and in theory could be running around a playground in four years' time will be eliminated by my body.

I wonder if we should have investigated the surrogacy option further, even though it means transatlantic flights and more money than I think we have. I wonder if we should be trying to adopt. I wonder if all this means that we were meant to adopt, that somewhere a child is waiting for us. I wonder if I did something really really horrendous and this is all punishment for that transgression. I wonder if I am just not meant to have children.

I don't want to look at ultrasound photos because I see a real baby who is inside me. I see a tiny baby with a 6cm wide head and I think, "That is still easy to give birth to," and I shudder at how tiny 6cm is, how impossible it is to survive at this point. I don't want to move, hoping that if I just stay home and lie low, the gods will forget about me and my body will have enough rest and be able to carry this baby to a viable term. I don't want to think, I just want to let time pass and get to 19 weeks, 5 days then 20 weeks, then 24 weeks.

I wonder if it is possible and I worry about crying in my doctor's office on Wednesday when I go and see him. I like to play the stoic, you see.

Expecting

I phoned a friend to see if she was free for lunch after my reflexology appointment and she asked what I was up to and how I was doing; all the normal questions. I told her that I was reading, watching TV, knitting a little, just relaxing and putting on weight and she said, "Well that's good, it will all go to the baby. The most important is that you have a beautiful, healthy baby with smooth skin and fat cheeks and that it grows big and strong," and in my mind's eye I could see a baby's round face and almost smell that powdery baby smell.

It is an image that scares me. I'm afraid of thinking it too much, of actually thinking I will have a baby in my arms in spring, that I will be able to bend down and kiss its soft cheek and inhale its milky scent. After all this time imagining, dreaming of my own child and seeing first one and then another and then another, and then another and another friend have their children, it still does not seem like my pregnancy will result in a living, breathing child. It just feels too soon to hope. It's like believing in something too good to be true and for now there is not enough evidence that the dream will be realised.

I set myself targets at which I will allow myself to hope more. The first target is 20 weeks, in 4 weeks time; the second is 24 weeks, around Christmas; the next is 30 weeks and the great, amazing 'is this really happening?' target will be 34 weeks. There is a part of me that believes it is possible, that says, 'This is a different pregnancy. Everything will go better, you will see,' and there is the worrying part of me that sees the 19 week anniversary of the last pregnancy approach and starts to shake, knowing how things can look just fine and in one minute go from good to hopeless.

That said, I saw Dr. Nice View and my cervix is stable and a reasonable length so he is happy and I am reassured, as much as that is possible. He asked if I wanted a photo of the scan and I shook my head. 'I'll keep it in the file,' he said, 'You can come and look at it in 2009 when everything is going well.' Nice to have a doctor who understands my reticence to keep records at this point. If anyone is reading who has lost a pregnancy and then gone on to have a live baby, when did you start trusting it was going to work, if ever?