Still Passing Open Windows ....

Away

First of all, thank you so much to everyone who has commented and especially to those sweet, sweet bloggers who have sent people here. It means so much to me to have your words. It also feels like a little recognition of my daughter and I am so glad she had that, that she didn't just disappear in the night, never to be acknowledged by anyone except H and me. Thank you, your support has helped so much in this horrible, sad time.

I have come home for a week. My parents have a beautiful home and it is somewhere where I always feel at peace. I am a mess, I burst into tears all the time but it helps to be here and be surrounded by mist and greenery and quiet. My parents also have a puppy and he is so cute, you can't help smiling when he bounds along through the long grass with his tongue out and enjoyment of life in every bounce.

I think about what to do a lot. I wake up in the morning thinking, "What on earth do I do?" and lie there as long as possible before my father calls me for breakfast. It's also good to be here with my parents and their routine and not in the flat while H has to work. I just couldn't cope with being alone all day at the moment. I know that, even me who loves to be alone, at this point I realise that for my health I need people around me.

I wonder whether we should try IVF one more time. After all, this can't happen a third time can it? But I know it can, and still this unbelievable desire to have a child pushes me on and says, "Just try once more." I think about going to see a specialist who deals with premature rupture of the membranes but I have no idea who. Is there even a specialist? It seems like a condition one can do nothing about, except try and see. We are planning on contacting an agency who deals with surrogacy. I thnk about starting the adoption process. I think about trying all three; doing an egg retrieval and storing them while we start the surrogacy procedings and attending the first adoption meeting. I think about just accepting that we won't have children and it seems both easy to do and impossible to accept. It's just more of the same, which is not bad. We have a good life. H and my relationship is stronger than I would have thought possible, we love to travel and go out to restaurants, we could have a nice life without kids. And then I think of H with children and my sisters having children and I think that we have to carry on, just a little bit more. I guess I am just not ready to stop yet. And I have no idea whether that is a good thing or a bad thing. There are arguments for both.

The End

And Round II comes to an end. Not with a bang with just with the well known dribble of amniotic fluid. It happened on Wednesday night and felt horribly familiar. One week later than it happened last time and on the day we did the 20 week scan to check on foetal development ironically. My doctor thinks it is due to the bleeding episode I had two weeks ago. Bleeding can cause a slight inflammation as the area heals and this can weaken the membranes which unfortunately in my case led to a premature rupture.

I gave birth last night to a tiny little girl with H's nose. I didn't see the baby last time but this time I wanted to and they brought her to me wrapped in a white cloth with a pink bracelet around it with her name and date of birth. Such a tiny little thing, born far too soon.

"Just very bad luck," says my doctor. "The placenta was very low and this can result in bleeding as it moves upwards." It could happen again, it could not but a week in hospital with needles and drips and a Monty Pythonesque epidural experience makes me loath to go through all this again and risk losing a third child. To paraphrase Winston Churchill, I think, to lose one baby seems like carelessness, to lose two is unfortunate and to lose three would just be masochistic obsession.

We are thinking more seriously about surrogacy. H would like to try it with a U.S. agency who have experience and all the reassuring structures in place. I waver between surrogacy, adoption, trying again and a feeling that the universe is just saying, "You? No children. Get on with your life. Next!"

In the meantime I think about Christmas decorations. Either our flat will be decorated from the front doorknob to the dish towels or I will put out three candles which will sit forlornly on the buffet until May.

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?

Reading Everything Now

Well, what do you know? Writing yesterday's post freed something up in me because today I am reading all the pregnant bloggers, women at about the same stage as me, and I feel fine. Oh, I love it when things are this easy. I even found stuff I could relate to. I love the infertile blogging community.

How do I really feel?

As I caught up on my blog reading, I noticed that I don't jump to the blogs about other pregnant infertiles, I go straight to the blogs about loss and miscarriage. I thought about my "From the Armchair" post and I thought that it doesn't even touch on how I really feel. It's just the face I present to the world most of the time.

A friend with a 3 month old came to dinner last week. She was full of questions about my pregnancy and my due date and how I was feeling and it made me feel very uncomfortable. I don't like talking about this pregnancy with people. I don't feel comfortable having the standard pregnancy chat, "Yes, we would love a little boy but H would be such a good father with a little girl and imagine how pretty she would be! And I'm eating like a horse, I've put on 4kg already!" because I feel like a fake. I know that this pregnancy could no longer exist in 5 weeks' time, that it could all vanish in one horrible day and then what will people ask me? "How is your grieving going?" I just want to let it develop in its own time and let each week pass to allow this baby more time to grow and hopefully to survive, to grow up big and strong and to outlive me and H.

So I read the blogs of loss and I can relate to the stories of grief and grieving but at the same time I have to believe that this can work, that this time things might be different and they might work out ok. I feel isolated in an isolation I choose; not wanting to talk about pregnancies and not wanting to read about so much sadness. I guess that is why I knit. It occupies me and as something grows out of each line of knitting I do, even if I just do four lines a day, I can see it as a symbol of my child growing every day, slowly and in its own time, and all I can do is live in the present and feel blessed that now, at this moment, I am still pregnant and things are going fine.

(What's the bet that as I hit Save I start to spot? Oh, I crack myself up. H finds me less funny.)