A Shadow on Your Joy

It's been almost a year now since I lost my first baby.  I still think about it, and think how old that baby would be now, how it would make celebrating Christmas different.  How we would have presents under the tree for him or her.  How it would have affected the year just past, my job, my future job, our finances, our life.  Life would be very different.

And life will be different, it's just been postponed.  I've probably even ended up with different opportunities that may have passed me by had I not been in the workforce. 

It still makes me a little nervous though.  Last Christmas Day, I was pregnant.  All was well.  Two days later, I wasn't.  It happens so fast.  And there is nothing you can do about it.  This Christmas Day, I am pregnant, again.  I know the same thing won't happen again with this pregnancy.  I'm much further along.  But you still know that something could happen.  And there is nothing you can do about it. 

I don't usually think like that during this pregnancy, but this time of the year, with all the reminders, those thoughts start creeping back into your head.  Not as often or with as much impact as early on in the pregnancy but they are still there.  Just a little shadow clinging onto your joy.

Boo

It was a pleasure to escape the mad crowds of Christmas by wandering quietly through Mothercare.  The crowds and queues did not encroach on this peaceful space and it gave me some quiet time to wander through and look at the myriad options you can buy for your baby (most totally unnecessary, I'm sure - but fun nonetheless).

I found myself browsing through the pram section.  I knew I would eventually have to find a pram I like, and now, with a new job starting and maternity leave shortened, I will need to make this purchase in the next few weeks.  So I began familiarising myself with the offerings.

I already have an idea of what my perfect pram will be.  Although I'm not sure the vision will match the perfect price tag.  It doesn't take me long to dismiss a pram - too wide, too heavy, doesn't lay flat, no basket, just ugly.  None of them really seem just right.  Until I turn around and spy one style, separated from the others.  It looks promising.  I wander over and start taking it in.

Tick
Tick
Tick
Tick

Hmmm, nice pram.  Pretty much perfect.  Wow, it is perfect.  What's the name?  Oh, it's a Bugaboo Cameleon.  I don't think I want to look at the price tag, but I do...

Ouch.

Boo to the Bugaboo.

Clarity

I went along to pregnancy yoga last Tuesday, and there our teacher invited us to choose a card.  I chose one, just from my gut feeling, I did not know what it said before I picked it up.  But the patterns and the colour and the feeling drew me to that card.  I can't remember the exact words, but its message was that it was time for me to seek clarity about myself, and my future with my baby.

This is interesting.

I had a pretty clear picture in my mind about my baby, my family and my future.  As clear as you can be about an uncertain future.  Who really can predict what will happen in 6 months time, 2 months time, tomorrow?  But my vision was this:

I would take maternity leave starting from the new school year, have my baby when she chooses to make her appearance, stay at home for an unidentified period of time (at least 3 months, at most... 20 years?) and go back to work when the right job came along and it fit with how we, as a family, felt at the time.  That's enough clarity for me.

So I had applied, and been granted, maternity leave.  Everything was on track.

Then three weeks ago, a job was advertised.  It was a job that I have wanted to do since I started my career, only it has never existed before.  So I applied.

Then I was asked to attend an interview.

Then I was offered the job.

I accepted.

So I cancelled my maternity leave.  I start my new job in February, and will work as long as I am able.  That may be two weeks, it may be six, it may be eight, although I doubt it.  If they allow me to go back part time after finishing maternity leave, perhaps that's what I will do.

I think I still have clarity.  The picture is just a little different, that's all.

The Moment

A few weeks ago, we had a morphology scan.  This is standard practice.  It was absolutely fascinating.  Technology allows you to see the ventricles of the heart, to see the blood pumping in and out, to watch the movement and flow to make sure all is functioning well.

Technology allows you to see the hemispheres of the brain.  It allows you to study the limbs, the spine, the digits.  You can see the eyes, and even the retina, to ensure all is well.  You can see the stomach and other internal organs.  You can see the nose, the mouth and the shape of the skull.

Technology is truly amazing.  All this, to make sure your precious little baby is developing as healthily as it can, and if not, to help it out in utero.

The funny thing is, while this information was fascinating and made us both happy and surely what every parent-to-be wants to hear, the moment that truly made us stop, shed a tear, and squeeze each other's hands, was when the sonographer said:

You've got a baby girl.

Creature

To my joy, I have now been feeling my baby move around for about three weeks.  I love it, and await those times eagerly (usually just as I am settling down to relax or sleep of course!)

At first, it was only me who could notice it.  The movements weren't strong enough for my husband to perceive them.  One night though, I was lying in bed reading, with my bookmark balancing across my upper stomach.  I noticed the bookmark moving slightly as I breathed.  An experiment then!  I moved the bookmark down low, to where I knew my bub was, and watched, and waited.

Waggle!

The bookmark waggled!  It was very obvious.  I told my husband, and he in turn watched and waited...

Waggle!

He saw it too!  He laughed and smiled and gave me a big hug and kiss.  This was his first hint of reality.  That there really is a baby in there.

I had a different hit of reality a few days later.  I felt the baby move.  And I realised that there was a human being in there.  In my body.  A little human being, different from and separate (although dependent) to me.

That's just weird.  There is a creature in my body!

Cracking 70

When I was 20, I weighed a meagre 50kg.  I was stick thin.  Of course, by my mid 20s, I was more like 57kg, and I was happy there.  Moving into my 30s and my weight moved into the 60s.  I wasn't too unhappy so long as it stayed at around 60-62kg, but over the years, it kept creeping up.  It settled at 65kg for a while and there was no way in the world I was going to EVER let it creep above 65kg!!

Until now.

Now, I jump on the scales and eagerly look to see how close to 70kg I'm getting.  It was actually depressing for the first 14 weeks when I was stuck on the 65kg mark.  Come on, where's my baby weight??

Finally, at 14 weeks, it went up 500 grams - woo hoo!  And it's been going up almost 500g each week since.

I'm really looking forward to cracking 70kg!

The Beating Belly

I attend pregnancy yoga weekly.  I'm absolutely loving it.  Our teacher not only teaches us yoga but she teaches us anatomy and about the changes in your body during pregnancy and labour.  Understanding what is really happening allows you to have so much faith in your amazing body.  I am really enjoying it.

The other girls at yoga are between 10 and 24 weeks pregnant, but most of them started feeling their babies around the gestation I am now.  I know that I won't, due to the anterior placenta that cushions any kicks and prods from my little one.  I'm sure I'll be thankful for that towards the end.  For now, though, feeling my baby would be a godsend.

That is why my experience the other day was so amazing. 

I will just quickly explain an anterior placenta for those not in the know.  Having an anterior placenta means that the placenta has formed at the front/top of the uterus, between the baby, and my stomach.  This means that when the baby kicks or pokes my belly, it will be poking the placenta, not the uterine lining.  The placenta acts as a nice big cushion between the baby, the uterine lining, and my belly.  This means I won't feel movement for quite some time, and when I do, it's likely to be less powerful.  Not great for someone who constantly wants to monitor their baby. 

But I had a blessing that I wasn't expecting.

The other day, I was sitting (slouching) on the couch in a thin summer dress, laptop on lap, belly in air.  It was then that I noticed my belly was beating.  Strange.  I studied for a moment.  Sure enough, the material resting on my belly button was moving as if with my pulse.  I then noticed that even the laptop was moving slightly, beating a pulse.  I watched in awe as my belly beat.

I can only assume that it is the beating of the blood into and out of the placenta.  It's fascinating, and a real treat for someone who cannot, and will not for quite some time, feel their baby.

3am

This post was nearly written at 3am.  That's not usually a very creative time for me.  I'm usually asleep.  Last night however, I was wide awake, and if it wasn't such an unseasonably cool night, I would've settled myself on the couch to pour my heart onto this page.

Almost two weeks ago now, I had my 12 week NT scan.  This is a bit of a milestone.  My husband and I were the first clients that day, and we enjoyed resting alone in the waiting room with a magnificent view of the gardens in South Bank.  We were soon called in to talk to the genetic counsellor and after our interesting discussion regarding family genetics, were we ushered into the dimly lit, calm, sonographer's room.  I laid on the bed, holding my husband's hand, and watched the TV screen intently for a look at what I hoped to be a healthy and very much alive foetus.  I was in luck.  I laid there silently, possibly with a tight grip on poor hubby's hand as I watched images of our baby on the screen. I think I was holding my breath.  The lovely sonographer was a wonderful person and she didn't waste too much time just viewing the baby, she searched for its heartbeat too.  Whoosh whoosh whoosh.  That was music to my ears.  I relaxed, and silent tears tracked my cheeks while a little smile settled and did not leave for possibly hours.

The next week or so was pure bliss.  I felt so happy.  My baby was alive.

The next chance I have at confirming this wonderful news is now still three weeks away.  The euphoria started to wane.  My tummy is not growing any bigger, I can no longer feel twinges.  And the crutch that was aspirin and progesterone in the first trimester are no longer there to lean on.  My anxiety starts to build.

What if the aspirin and/or progesterone was keeping the baby alive?  Now that I've finished, could it no longer be viable?  Could my baby die?  Is it still alive?  I won't know for another three weeks.

My husband and I entertained the idea of buying a doppler to search for the heartbeat for reassurance.  After much research however, we decided that may only increase our anxiety if we were unsuccessful in finding it.  We aren't trained, afterall.

So I wait.

And apparently wake at 3am and worry.

Desperate Measures

My uterus is currently tucked in behind my pelvic bone.  Nice and protected by a lovely hard bit of bone.  I would have thought, then, that lying on my tummy would be a non issue at the moment.  It's not until about 14 weeks that the uterus pops out from behind its protective wall.

For some reason though, I can't lie on my stomach.  It's really quite uncomfortable.  At first, I thought this wouldn't be too bad a thing.  Sure, I sleep every night on my stomach, but surely after a week or so I would get used to not doing this?

Wrong.

I have now been 'not sleeping on my stomach' for a good 6 weeks and I am still not used to it.  Worse than that - I hate it!  I am dying to sleep on my stomach!  I look over at my lovely husband, sound asleep, on his stomach, and get massive pangs of jealousy.

I have tried everything.

Sleeping on my back - good for about half an hour at a time.

Sleeping on my side - squishes my chest and shoulders too much.

Sleeping on my side with a pillow to cuddle - better, but still lasts only 45 minutes before I have to swap sides.  Then dragging the pillow over (under the blanket) to the other side to resettle is sure to make me wide awake.

Sleeping on my side with a pillow ready on BOTH sides - makes the bed very squishy - and I still change sides every 45 minutes or so and wake up.

The other day - I had a bath.  I half filled it, pulled my bath pillow down low to water level, turned on to my stomach, and layed there blissfully, on my stomach - for a good half hour.  It was wonderful but not very practical.

So last night, I tried sleeping on my stomach, with a pillow under my head and under my chest.  It raised my stomach off the bed just enough to make that relatively comfortable.  Problem is, my breasts then hurt!  They didn't used to hurt.  Forgot that would be an issue as well.

My next plan of attack is to get a foam mattress, cut a hole where your belly goes ( and maybe I would need holes where the breasts go too!) and try that.

I am desperate - I will do it.

Not Quite Ready

We had another visit to the fertility specialist.  I was 10 weeks, 1 day.  I had been having a few tummy tightenings and was feeling sick as a dog, so my anxiety was less than the previous few weeks.  I hopped up onto the chair and waited to see if something was still growing inside.

It sure was.

There was a little foetus.  Looking slightly human even.  It was hanging out on its belly (very jealous - I love lying on my belly but can't anymore) and measuring 3.5cm - spot on for 10 weeks.  It's heart beat was fantastic - nice and strong. 

Ah the sweet relief.

Our second bub didn't make it.  Its sack was being all squished by the first bub.  The FS said it would eventually be squished into non existence.

Now some organising begins.  I have to have a range of blood tests next week, followed by a nuchal translucency scan the week after.  I also have to book into an obstetrician, and into the hospital.  Wow, this is starting to feel real.  I'm starting to get excited.  But I'm not quite ready to totally let go yet.

Murphy's Law

A while ago, I wrote a post called 'Life on Hold'.  I decided that I would no longer plan things around 'I can't do that because I might be pregnant' and so I started a garden.  I have this enormous dead patch of grass ringing my bare yard now, just calling out for plants and I had been eagerly researching plants and designing the layout of the native tropical garden I am intending to grow.  My plan was to plant it out day by day during the next school holidays - it would be spring - lovely weather and perfect time to grow plants!

Well, Murphy's Law - I fell pregnant!  I am so so happy to be pregnant, but I do find it funny that as soon as I planned something that I could only do if I wasn't pregnant, I fell pregnant.  Hmmm... maybe I should have organised this garden a long time ago.  Some of you may think - 'why on earth can't she plant a garden?'  Well, fair enough, but I am a little precious now with this being pregnant business.  I would like it to last more than 10 weeks!  40 or so, preferably.  I have no idea why I keep miscarrying so I just avoid EVERYTHING that could have the tiniest teeniest chance of contributing.  So that means no lifting heavy plants, no digging, and no hands in the dirt.  That kind of rules out gardening!  Luckily, my family are also precious about my pregnancy and they have all offered to come and plant my garden for me in a big working bee! 

So those plans haven't been thrown out the window after all - and I will soon have my beautiful garden, thanks to my amazing family.

There's the Heartbeat

It's pretty easy for me to know this pregnancy is real.  I'm bloated, my pants are tighter, I'm constantly nauseous but need to keep eating 24/7, I get up twice a night now to go to the loo, I'm exhausted, and I have tightenings and crampings and things going on in my tummy.  Pretty obvious really.  But for my husband, it's a little bit harder to be hit with the reality of it.  Sure, he saw two lines on the test.  He hears my whingeing about the nausea.  He tries to pay attention to what foods he can't serve me anymore.  But for him, it's not quite as real.  He's not living it 24/7 like I am, he only gets the occasional tidbit fed from me.

In a way, I think I'm the lucky one, although I think a little anxiety comes with it too... when I stop feeling nauseous, I actually worry.  This all changed when I had my first ultrasound.  I have asked my husband to come with me to all my fertility specialist appointments ever since I felt vulnerable and emotional alone at my first one.  He accepted without a question. I don't think he really thought he was needed but understood that I wanted him there. Well, I'm pretty sure he was glad he came to this one.

We sat together in the lovely waiting room, discussing the fact that they have a coffee machine at a fertility specialist - shouldn't they be advocating less caffeine?  Oh, right, they offer decaf.  Our inane musings were interrupted when we were called in to the rooms, where we had a brief discussion before we got down to serious business.  There I was, in the undiginifed position of having my feet in stirrups with a very phallically shaped tool approaching my nether regions -  not exactly romantic or emotional stuff, until the picture came up on the screen. 

There it was, a tiny blob in a dark coloured space, with a little flutter.  And then there was a sound - whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh - "there's the heartbeat" says the specialist,  "who's heartbeat?" says my beautiful husband,  "our baby's" say I.

A bit of silence ensues.  It's real.

The fertility specialist went on, doing what he does to check what he needs, when another surprise greets us.  "And there's another sac".  Twins??  I looked, and saw the sac was empty.  He searched for a little while, but couldn't find another bean.  We still don't know whether that bean didn't make it, or whether it was just a little slow.  We won't find out if we have one or two until our 10 week ultrasound.  It's very exciting, but I must admit, if there's only one, I'll be a little sad that we lost one.

The specialist goes back to have another little look at the first beating bean (or maybe it was for our benefit) before he finishes up and leaves the room.  I look up at my husband.  He's grinning like a cheshire cat.  He starts jumping up and down with the most amazing look of love and utter happiness on his face.  He says, "thanks so much for making me come with you".  He's stoked.  Actually, he's beyond stoked.   Today it was very very real for him and it was amazing to see him so excited.  I can't wait for our next ultrasound... the joy of technology!

Bring on the Morning Sickness

For most people, who fall pregnant relatively easily, morning sickness is something I assume they dread.  Feeling nauseous all day, the over-production of saliva, the need to either eat constantly, or not be able to face food at all.  The fact that it overwhelms every part of your day and makes work pretty damn hard.  Doesn't sound too pleasant really.

Except for me.

Ok, so it's not pleasant.  But it sure is a good sign.  I don't particularly like feeling sick 24/7 but the rare moments when I'm not nauseous, I worry.  When I wake up in the morning and don't feel like I'm about to throw up, I worry.  To me, morning sickness is a sign that I'm still pregnant, that my pregnancy is still viable.

Bring on the morning sickness!

Crying Over Feta

So this morning I cried over feta.  Or, more to the point, over the lack of feta.  I wanted to make a salad to take to work for lunch.  It was to have lettuce, baby spinach, cherry tomatoes, avocado, roasted capsicum and crumbled feta.  Only there was no feta.  My husband had used the last of it in dinner last night.  Well, that just threw me over the edge.  I closed the fridge door (with a little more force than required), possibly stamped my foot, and then insisted that I could not possibly have normal cheese in my salad, I would have to have something completely different.

I then had to go off to my bedroom, curl up in a ball and cry.

Over feta.

Oh dear.

I'm not even allowed to eat feta.

I blame it (conveniently) on progesterone.  You see, I had a pretty good level of progesterone early on in my pregnancy, but the fertility specialist put me on some more just in case.  It's a common reason why pregnancies fail - a reduction in progesterone production.  The thing is, progesterone can make you teary and sad.  As I found out this morning.

I know there's no use crying over feta... but I just couldn't help it.

To Hope or Not to Hope, That is the Question

I had my fertility specialist appointment today.  My HCG and progesterone levels are good, our karyotype blood tests were good, in fact, all the tests I've ever had are perfect.

So the specialist said... "Given the results of all your tests, there is no reason that this should not be a successful pregnancy."

I wish he hadn't said that.

When we got our two little lines, we were happy to be pregnant to at least be able to continue on with figuring out what's going on, but we had no hope that the pregnancy would last.  I liked it that way.  It was safe, secure.  It would mean that it wouldn't hurt so much if it ends.

Well, when the FS said that we should have a successful pregnancy, I felt that little thing called hope flicker inside me and try to burn.  Within 15 minutes, over a deliciously luxurious hot chocolate at Max Brenner's, I successful quashed that little flicker of hope.  Well, I think I did.  But I think the FS has implanted that tiny little seed of hope in there, and I don't think I can dig it out.  I wish I could.  I don't want to hope.  Hoping equals hurting.

Pregnant Without the Exclamation Marks

The very first time I got a positive pregnancy test, my husband and I lay in bed, patiently waiting for the pregnancy test to show the result.  It was a digital pregnancy test, so any result would be clear.  After an agonizing wait of three or so minutes, the word pregnant flashed up on the screen.  It was the most amazing feeling, from somewhere deep inside.  An amazing excitement at the way our lives were about to be changed.  We both had tears in our eyes and enormous grins on our faces.  It was such an unbelievably joyful time.

I did another pregnancy test this morning.  My husband is away so I did it alone.  This time it was a typical 'two lines means you're pregnant' test.  Sure enough, as I expected, two lines appeared.  I'm pregnant.  This time though, there's no real joy.

There is a little bit of sadness.
At the thought that this baby may not make it.  At the thought that I may lose another one.  At the thought that I can't be joyful and announce to the world, like the first time... I'm pregnant!!

There is a little bit of resignation.
That we will go through the motions, lose the baby, try again.  That we have no guarantee of ever having a baby.

There is a little bit of relief.
That we are pregnant, and at least the fertility specialist can try and see what's going on.

There is a little bit of fear.
Of the emotions I will have to endure and how I will cope.

But there is also a little, tiny, bit of hope.
That this one, just maybe, will grow to term.

Please, Mr University Professor Man

My husband is studying his MBA, which means he has Uni one evening a week, and 2 assignments or exams every 8 weeks.  Put this on top of full time work and you've got a pretty heavy workload.  Somehow, we manage to co-ordinate play, work, study, and normal everyday stuff so nothing gets in the way of anything else (too much).  We've also been super lucky so far that nothing has ever got in the way of the prime baby making time.  You always see on movies and read in books, a woman taking her temperature in the middle of the day and calling her husband to say "it's time... you have to come home right now so we can make a baby!"  Well, it doesn't quite work like that.  There is an optimal time, but it's the 4 days or so in the lead up to ovulation - which you don't know when will happen until after the event.  So it's a bit of  a tricky science, and involves some intuition, research, estimated guessing and sign reading.  But you can usually pretty much identify a week or so that is super important in the baby making stakes.

It happened to be this super important baby making week for us, that my husband was scheduled an assignment - to be completed in 5 days (exactly the baby making window).  So there was my poor husband, heading to work in the morning, then studying til late at night each evening, then needing to 'perform' when all he wanted to do was fall into bed and disappear into a coma like state of deep sleep.  I think we still managed pretty well, but we'd prefer not to have this sort of pressure on us again.

So please, Mr University Professor Man - talk to me first before setting dates for your assignments.

Monsters

I had my first real pang of jealousy recently.  Actually, it was more than jealousy.  I think that little monster has raised its head a few times, but she's only a little monster, I'm not too concerned.  I had a bigger monster visit.  I'm not sure what it's called, but it sure has an excellent uppercut.

My mum was on the phone to my uncle, who had the news that my cousin had just given birth to a baby boy.  She was due three weeks before me.  Now, I've had pregnancy announcements before and have been fine.  In fact, I've been super happy and excited and all gooey and have loved visiting and having baby cuddles.

This one was different.

I think it must be because she was due so close to me.  There was happiness for her there, but it was buried under a layer of sadness.  Absolute immense sadness.  I just stopped what I was doing and felt the sadness wave over me.  I felt tears slide down my cheeks.  It was so heavy.  I haven't quite shaken that sadness yet.  It's been a week.  I'm wondering when it will lift.  Maybe when I get past my due date.  Two weeks to go.  I sure hope so.

Refreshment

 After the rollercoaster ride of the last few months, it was nice to do something just for us.  A little bit of spoiling.  My hubby and I headed off on a two week jaunt around the NT in a 4WD campervan.

The first few nights saw us sleeping under the stars on the banks of the river with four other people and countless crocodiles, so even if it was 'that time', any babymaking shenanigans were out of the question.  Apparently it's mating time for freshwater crocs, and we certainly did not want to attract that kind of attention!  This was somewhat refreshing.  We were out on holiday, away from work, our house, our bedroom and in a brand new, absolutely stunning environment.  It took our mind off (a little) trying to conceive and put our focus back on us.  I tell you what, it was lovely.  Now there is the challenge of bringing a little bit of that into our 'normal' life.  Let's hope we remain inspired (or just find a gorgeous natural plunge pool in the middle of nowhere with no-one else to be seen!)

There's No Chocolate in the House!

Sometimes you just have those days, or even those moments, when you really need chocolate in the house.  I am having one of those days!

It began this morning with a BFN (big fat negative - on the home pregnancy test).  Not a great start to the day.  I really really want to be pregnant (of course) - but for more reasons than wanting a baby.  I have very little hope that the next pregnancy will end well, but what I do believe, is that if I have another miscarriage, my fertility specialist will help me.  Because nothing is happening to help me now.  So, I really want to get pregnant, because if I miscarry again, I will get more help.  But nay, I'm not.

There were a few other things that contributed to my chocolate-seeking state including it being my first day back at work after a wonderful two week holiday, and, at the work lunch get together, the non gluten free people eating all the gluten free soup, leaving me with nothing to eat for lunch.

Grrr.

But alas, we have no chocolate in the house.

Am I Dreaming?

Today is the day I was supposed to start maternity leave.  Ah, how lovely that would have been!  I would be having a baby in 5 weeks time!  I truly can't imagine that, but it would have been real.  It was real.  Well, it would have been real.  It doesn't feel real.  Was it ever real?

Or am I dreaming?

I thought I would be a bit of a mess when this day came.  But I'm not.  I'm fine.  I feel normal.  I think it's because it all feels like a dream.  Not the fertility issues part - I have too many blood tests for that not to feel real.  But the 'I was pregnant' part (3 times!!).  That part feels like a dream.  It feels like it never was.  I never got those two lines on that test; I never had those niggly pains in my tummy; I never felt like I had to constantly eat to allay the nausea; I never called our bub 'Pea'; I never seriously thought about baby names; I never started bleeding; I never got that bad pain; I never had that miscarriage... (or 3).

But I did - I did do all those things.  It just feels like it was all in a dream.

Dig and Delve

So I went to the Fertility Specialist (FS) for the first time the other day.  The waiting room was gorgeous - my type of interior decorating for sure.  My husband and I decided that only I would go... he had meetings that day, and if this journey ends up long, we need to save as many sick days between us as possible.  As I was sitting in the waiting room however, I started feeling a little nervous.  I'm not sure why.  I guess it's a big step.  I regretted not bringing my husband.

I eventually was called, and met my FS, Michael.  We went into his room and he got right into it.  I had filled out their questionnaires prior to my visit, but it was short notice so they only received them the night before.  He hadn't had time to read them and instead asked me some key questions.  Didn't ask about my hubby though.  He did a quick examination, looked at the blood results which were perfect, didn't seem too concerned about anything at all. 

He wrote out a request for both hubby and me to have a karyotype blood test that tests for chromosomal abnormalities and sent me on my way, his parting words being - "go get yourself pregnant!"  Well, I don't have any trouble doing that!  It was all over and done with in about 10 minutes.  It didn't feel complete.  It didn't feel important.  In fact, it felt a bit... meh.  That's the only way I can describe it.

I understand that to him, I'm a fairly non-important case.  I may well go and get pregnant and have a perfectly normal pregnancy right away.  I am probably one of his most uncomplicated patients at the moment.  But to me, it is super important.  To me, it's complicated.  To me, this is the most important thing in my life right now.  I'm not sure what I really want from him.  I guess I like hearing people's thought processes.  I like doctors to explain EVERYTHING to me that they have deduced from the information I gave them.  I like to know all the possibilities that exist that they have ruled out for me and why.  I like to know ALL the possibilities that may exist for me, no matter how remote the chance (because hey, three miscarriages is a remote chance but it still happened)!  I'm not sure whether that sort of thing will come with time, as our relationship develops, or as my case becomes more complicated to him.  Or if I need to ask him.  Or if I just won't get that.  And if I don't get that, am I happy with that? 

One good thing though, my GP is great.  She does all the explaining, deducing and delving and tells it all to me.  I love it.  So I can always tell her everything the FS is doing, and she's not afraid of giving me her opinion and suggesting things I can talk to him about.  Maybe she will be my outlet.  I better keep those medicare receipts for tax time!

Bursting at the Seams

I would like to give a bit of advice to all the ultrasound practitioners out there...

Be on time... to the exact second.  Or early!  Early is good!  In fact, early is super great!  A few people out there will be nodding their heads, for those of you who have a quizzical look on your face... here's why.

A few days ago, I had an appointment to get an ultrasound.  You have some directions to complete before arriving.  They are very specific and involve drinking a litre of water in half an hour, one and half hours before your appointment.  I was at work when the half hour time slot came by and managed to chug down four glasses of water while madly running around finishing up the jobs I had to do before the drive to the x-ray clinic.  Everything is going fine at the moment. 

At 2.45pm, 15 minutes after finishing my litre of water, I started the 35 minute drive to the clinic.  No worries there, at least for the first half.  Towards the end of the drive, just as I started hitting traffic, bumpy roads and red lights, the water started making its presence known.  The seatbelt pressure was a tad uncomfortable.  But it was manageable.  I'd be there soon.

So, I arrive 10 minutes early (you might be lucky and get in early!) and made myself comfortable in the waiting lounge.  The comfort was short lived.  With each passing minute, I became more and more aware of the pressure down below.  I started fidgeting.  I started squirming.  I tried sitting in so many different positions people must've thought I had worms.  I even lifted myself off the chair with my hands to try and relieve the pressure...

I was watching the clock intently... 8 minutes to go... oh my goodness, I can make it.  The clinic door opens - I look up expectantly with hope shining from my eyes, but she calls the wrong name.  The pressure increases... 5 more minutes, I can do this.  The door opens again - please be for me!!  Nope, not for me.

I wiggle some more, cross my legs, uncross my legs, lift my bottom off the chair.  Oh my, thank goodness I've been practicing pelvic floor exercises!  2 minutes to go, the door opens...  I think my look of hope is now a squished up strange look of half pain - please be for me!!! Nope, not for me.  I start thinking about how much longer I can last.  What will I say to the ladies at the front desk?  Just how strong are my pelvic floor muscles?  I don't think I can hold on much longer...

It's 3.30!   That's my appointment time!  It'll be my turn any second now!!!  The door opens.... damn, not for me.  Oh no.  I start rehearsing... "I just need to go a tiny bit!"  Surely they don't want a mess!  I start closing my eyes, try to meditate... oh no - that's too relaxed, bad idea.  Everyone else seems so calm and my mind is going nuts!  I have to go to the toilet!!!!!!!!!

It's 3.40 - I could've started drinking 10 minutes later!  I can't hold on anymore, this is it!

The door opens - he calls my name!  Thank goodness!  But he's up the other end of the clinic!  So I waddle across the room, standing up tall in a very strange manner, slightly tilted over, my forehead creased in concentration, desperately trying to look normal and failing miserably.  That was close... way too close. 

Please be on time next time!

Life on Hold

There are many things that you 'should' or 'should not' do while trying to conceive and in early pregnancy:

• don't use toothpaste with triclosan
• limit your caffeine intake
• limit your alcohol intake
• exercise regularly
• don't exercise too hard
• eat a healthy balanced diet
• don't smoke
• take multivitamins
• don't lift heavy things
• don't get stressed
• don't eat soft cheese, salads, processed meats... (this list goes on and on)
• don't garden without gloves
• and so on... an so on

Some people follow the advice religiously.  Some people scoff and say they had 3 kids and ignored the list.  The thing is though... the list is there because there is a risk.

I don't know or care how big that risk is.  The risk is there and it is the individual's decision to do or not do based on their knowledge of the risk.  In most cases, the risk of anything bad happening from any of the above is very very small.  Lots of people tell you that... that there's only a 1 in 1,000 chance of something bad happening - so go for it!  The thing is, what if you are that 1 in 1,000?

There is only a very small risk that you will have 3 miscarriages in a row.  For me though - that risk is 100%.  It happened.  So even if the risk, or the chance, is miniscule, to someone, that risk is everything.  The risk wouldn't exist if it didn't happen to someone.

I follow a lot of the 'rules' of trying to conceive.  I wasn't very strict the first time around.  I became a little stricter the second time around and more strict again the third time around.  I now drink decaf coffee for goodness sake!!!  When you don't know why something bad is happening, you just try to eliminate every conceivable controllable thing that may have the slightest chance of contributing.  So that's what I did... to a large extent.

The problem with that is though... you have to put your life on hold.  I have a big blank canvas of a backyard.  Now, I love gardening, and I love luscious gardens.  So having a big blank canvas of a backyard is not something I want - not without getting my hands stuck into it anyway!  I've been putting off starting the garden.  I know it's a big job - and backbreaking a lot of the time too.  That's why I put if off.  The 'list' includes avoiding backbreaking tasks - and digging in gardens!

The problem is, there is only so much time you can put your life on hold.  This trying to conceive time of my life may stretch on for years.  I don't want to look at a blank backyard forever.

So today, I bought some garden edging, picked up a shovel, and laid into the yard.  I now have my garden marked out - with garden edging to boot.  I feel good too.  I think the sweaty work set my endorphins running - I'm pretty sure that's good for trying to conceive!

1, 2, 3.

So, here we go again.

Another positive pregnancy test, another bout of excitement, another heartbreaking disappointment.

The third miscarriage means there's something wrong.

There's something wrong.

My hubby and I got quite excited with the news of my third pregnancy.  I think maybe because it meant one of two things:

1. We would get our baby
2. We would get help

We called this one 'Sticky'.  It wasn't.  For us, sadly, it's option two.

On my last visit to my wonderful doctor, she said that if this happened again, she would send us to a specialist.  I love my doctor - she is so thorough and holistic, but unfortunately that means everyone else loves her too.  I have to wait almost three weeks since this miscarriage to see her.  It's a painful wait after 8 months of trying already.  But, it will come.  I am really looking forward to it.  I very much hope that any tests we have done actually give us some answers.  Of course, there's always the chance they won't, but I won't think about that just yet. 

I have also started investigating natural therapy options.  I searched forums on the internet for recommendations and made a shortlist of three.  One of those three was brought up in conversation when I was out having a lovely brunch with three of my lovely friends (and one gorgeous 2 week old baby).  So I've found my natural therapist.  I'm so glad that both my friends and my husband are so supportive of anything I want to do.  It makes a world of difference. 

So to my friends and husband - thank you.

Pram Stalker

During my first pregnancy, at about 6 weeks along, a friend offered to sell me her pram.  It was really cheap so I bought it.  Although I knew it was way early, and I had no idea about prams, the offer was too good to refuse.  I then became slightly obsessed with prams.

The pram I have has a toddler seat, is quite big, sturdy and great for uneven ground and jogging, but it's really heavy, and I'm not sure it'd fit down cashier aisles.  It also takes up almost the entire space in my boot and I may just put my back out getting it in there.

That's when I started noticing prams.

I didn't realise I was doing it at first.  I'd be at the local shopping centre (where, if you are pregnant or trying to conceive, you'd swear 80% of the population was pregnant or had babies!), and I'd see a pram and casually take note of its features.  I liked the smaller ones, lighter frame, still with decent storage.  Ooh, and can you put two kids in it?  Do you kick your feet on it when you're pushing?  Can you reverse the handle?  Does it look like it'll fold up quickly?  Wow, that colour's nice... what pram is that?

One day, I found myself leering at a particularly nice looking pram, ticked lots of boxes - the doting mother and father passed me head on.  I suddenly screeched to a halt, in the middle of a busy shopping centre, spun around, bag flying and raced after said pram - just to see what brand it was...  people were ducking and weaving to avoid the crazy woman racing after two strangers and their pram.

That's when I realised I had a problem.

I am a pram stalker.

Third Time Lucky?

So here we are trying again.  Third time lucky.

My husband is amazing.  Can I just say that.  During the first miscarriage, when I was crying, or down, or devastated, when even I didn't know what I needed, he instinctively knew what to do or say.  He was wonderful.  As this journey continues, he just grows to be more wonderful.  I'm not alone in this.  He's with me all the way.  He knows when the fertile window is, he knows what my temperatures mean.  It makes it so much easier.  And so wonderful to share.

I started my 'obsessive' charting again and we did everything right.  We were very confident.  Each time we had really tried, we had fallen pregnant, as is the norm for the girls in my family.  We did a home pregnancy test.

It was negative.

This is a first.  Negative.  Huh.

Doesn't hurt as badly as a miscarriage, that's for sure.  Although over time, if I saw that negative, month after month, I imagine it would be just as devastating.

So we'll try again.

It's Just Statistics

After the miscarriage, we decided to start trying again straight away.  I was devastated to have lost our baby.  There are so many statistics about miscarriages. One I hear often is 1 in 4.

"Right", I thought,  "my sister had 3 kids with no miscarriages, I've had one miscarriage - that fits the statistics perfectly - so it'll all be good from here".  There is no history of conception issues in our family.

I know lots of people who had conceived and carried healthy babies immediately after a miscarriage, so we tried again.

Again, we followed in the family footsteps and were rewarded with a Big Fat Positive - I was pregnant. Again.

We were excited, with a little trepidation.  We cried the first time we fell pregnant (with joy).  I think I had a tear the second time - maybe fear.  This one was due on Halloween - we called it Boo.

Our joy didn't last long.  I was testing on home pregnancy tests every few days - just to see the test line darken before I got to go to the doctor.  It darkened nicely for a few days, then started fading.  Then I started bleeding.  I was almost 5 weeks this time... not long, but long enough.

It didn't hurt so much this time.  The first time was devastating.  I think the pain was less this time because it was so early.  Maybe I was also half expecting it.  But boy it still hurts.

They say the first miscarriage is not surprising - it's just statistics.
The second miscarriage is bloody bad luck.

Let's hope we don't get to the third.  The third means there's something wrong.

My husband and I are 35 and 33 years old respectively.  We only met 2 years ago so couldn't have started earlier.  We want a large family, we don't have time for there to be something wrong.  But only time will tell.

I'm Pregnant!

My family is vey lucky, in the conception stakes.

My Mum has 3 girls, all conceived easily, she didn't even have to think about it.  I am the third and the baby.  She did have one early miscarriage before my birth.  From my conversations with her, it didn't effect her emotionally, she was more interested in the biological aspect.  I guess though that she already had 2 kids, and hadn't known for long, it would be easy enough to cope with.  And then of course I came along - kind of glad about that.

My sister fell pregnant with her beautiful boy a few days after going off the pill - she wasn't actively trying.  Her daughter came just as easily.  And then there was an oops.  Another beautiful girl - her hubby must have super sperm because she fell pregnant way outside of her 'fertile window'.  All amazing children and all much loved.

Then there is me.  I fell pregnant in my 2nd month trying.  The first month can't really be counted as 'trying' either.  We were on our honeymoon in Fiji... perfect environment for baby making!  My fertile window however, fell while we were at a homestay and sleeping in the main living area of a family in a small village.  The bed was separated from the rest of the room by a sheet... but still, we didn't feel quite bold enough to go ahead with that one.  And what with my family history, why would we have to rush?

So the next month, I got stuck into it with fervour - I like biology, I like science, I like research and data... so I started taking my temperature each morning, using OPKs (ovulation predictor kits) and all sorts of other unmentionable things you can take note of when  TTC (trying to conceive).  Some call me obsessive... I just call me 'me'.  I'm like this with everything - I find it fascinating, and yes, I find it fun.

Well, it paid off, and I fell pregnant.  We were very happy, and we called it 'pea'.
After 8 weeks of dreaming, and beginning to adjust to the idea of becoming parents, we went off to enjoy being a couple by staying in a romantic cottage with a fireplace and all, and heading out to a big festival - what fun!  Enjoy it while we can!

Well, it seems, we can enjoy it longer.

That weekend, I started bleeding.

After our weekend, we headed back to Brisbane and off to the emergency department.  They booked me into the early pregnancy assessment unit (EPAU) the next day.  They said 'don't worry, bleeding in early pregnancy is common'.  In my heart, I knew it wasn't going to be ok.

That night, I spent hours in pain, I imagine it's like early labour but I don't know, I've never been there.  It was painful enough that I had to vocalise through the contractions.  I miscarried that night.

The next day saw us at the EPAU. The nurse gave us a tiny spark of hope.  But the ultrasound spoke otherwise.  There was nothing there.

I went home to carry it through naturally, that didn't work.  Two weeks later, during the Brisbane floods, I had an operation to remove the rest of the 'material'.  They diagnosed that it had been a normal pregnancy.

At almost 10 weeks pregnant, we had lost our baby.  Our first baby.