More nausea and a little bit of hope.

Following on from My miscarriage…

The Husband and I made the decision to foget about ovulation tests and ‘windows of opportunity’.  Perhaps we just didn’t have the capacity for more disappointment.  So when I didn’t get a period a month after the miscarriage we were very surprised!

You can understand why we were wary, feeling a little fragile and anxious.  I was relieved to experience nausea pretty much from the onset of the pregnancy – something that was absent from the last pregnancy that wasn’t meant to be.  We met Janet Grundy, possibly the best midwife in the history of the world.  She understood our fears and made us feel like we had a right to feel that way.  She organised an early scan so met got to see the baby for the first time when she was I was only eight weeks pregnant.

Morning sickness sucks.  I mean, it just doesn’t let up.  But I now had a new respect for it, not taking for granted those pregnancy harmones flying around my body, keeping the baby safe.

The main difference in this pregnancy was the little toddler running around at home.

Over Christmas we had a massive family get together in a gorgeous hotel – and I although I got to be there, I missed out big style.  I was sick through the day and exausted before Chloe was even in bed.  But hey, those experiences make you really appreciate opportunities that don’t come round that often.

Once the nausea passed at around 4 months the prenancy was pretty normal.  If I’m honest I don’t remember that much of it, don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing!  At the 20 week scan we really wanted to know if we were having a boy or a girl.  We asked.  The sonographer looked.  And looked.  Pulled a reluctant face and told us she wasn’t 100% sure so she didn’t want to say.  She then said she was 60% sure it was a girl.  What on earth does that mean?! 60%?! I was gutted.  There was a leaning towards another girl but really we couldn’t be sure.  After a tearful tantrum I calmed down and accepted the unknown.  Though people didn’t believe us when we said we didn’t know if we having a boy or a girl!

I was due on the 14th August.  A couple of days before, mid evening, I started having contractions; painful enough to put on the tens machine and regular enough to take it seriously!  we called family and, because chloe’s birth was soooooo long and drawn out we settled down and tried to get some rest.  Well, we woke up the next morning so guessed things had things had slowed right down through the night!

We got on with everyday life, approached and seemingly passed b y my due date.  I didn’t hold much expectation of the baby being born on its’ due date with Chloe going over four days over.  We settled down to bed around 10.30pm but ten minutes later a strong contraction stuck and lasted what seemed like forever.  When the next one came around I accidently clung onto The husband, waking him up. Once I had my tens machine on I truly did try to rest but they were just coming thick and strong.  It didn’t feel like this labour would go the same way as it did first time round.

Looking back I was so much more confident.  I focused through each contraction, trying so hard relax my body.  It didn’t look like things would slow down again so we made phone calls to parents in the north east,the parents around the corner and my brother and sister-in-law (My sister in Laws’ birthday was the 15th – the following day so she was excited to be potentially sharing it with her niece/nephew). My mum downed like five cups of coffee and set off down the A1 to hopefully get to us before baby arrived.  Arrangements had been made for The Husband’s parents to come and sleep here if things started through the night, so they’d be here to look after Chloe.  After a couple of hours I called the Maternity Ward and when I dropped the phone through a contraction they told me to come in as quick as I could.  Charles and Mary came over and went straight upstairs while I was cuddling my gym ball in the living room…

To be continued.

Loss.

Continuing from here…

The days turned into weeks and I became so aware of myself.  I saw my body as this baby’s cocoon and wanted to protect it as much as I could.  I couldn’t wait till the 12 weeks scan to see that little heart beat fluttering away and feel the relief that the baby was well.

So when, after about three weeks of excitement, I woke up on the 31st October and saw that I’d started bleeding, my world turned upside down.  We were rushing out to the dentist and I was meeting The Husband there.  I just had to just get on with it, with my 18 month old Chloe in tow.  It felt surreal; like it was happening to someone else.  It had to be happening to someone else. Please, just not me.

We went to see the GP and I was told I had to wait a week until I could be scanned.  So I just waited.  And bled.  And said goodbye to the baby I’d never meet.  There was nothing I could do to stop it.  Its awful to be told that you have lost a baby – but the pain I experienced in knowing that I was losing my baby – standing on the sidelines, watching it happen – was crippling.

The day of the scan came and I although I’d been told that it really looked as though I’d miscarried, I held on to the hope that things might just be ok.  These things did happen sometimes.  Bleeding can happen and it be ok.  I just wanted it to be ok.

They did an internal scan and the room was silent.  The lady finished and just looked at me.  She asked me to look at the screen and tell me what I though I could see.

“Nothing”.

There was nothing left there.  They took some blood to confirm a miscarriage and I was to call back that evening.

I needed to get away.   To just not be here.  My mum drove to get me and Chlloe and took us back to theirs for a few days.  I called the hospital and they said I still had levels of pregnancy harmones to confirm a miscarriage.  I asked what now and she asked what I meant.  What did she mean, what did I mean?? I meant, what now?? She didn’t say anything – just to let my cycle settle before starting all over again.

Miscarriage is common. NHS claim its one in five pregnancies end in miscarriage – 3/4 of those in the first twelve weeks.  That means nothing to you at the time.  when its’ you that’s grieving.  For you, you’re the only person to feel this raw pain of loss.  It selfish, I know.  But its’ true.

Time helps.  At some point you feel like you can really breathe again.  Women deal with it in different ways.  And that’s ok.  Its got to be ok, because no-one can tell you what or how to feel.  You just need to navigate it the best you can and in a way that works for you.  Me me, altough my baby was so tiny at 8 weeks, it was still may baby.  Nothing will undo that.  So for me it helped to acknowledge that, so that I could say goodbye.

Shooting forward in time – a little while ago Chloe asked something about babies in tummies or something – I don’t remember.  But I was able to explain that she had a baby brother or sister in heaven.  And even years on, that helped me.  It helped me to make sense of the pain and the loss and the confusion.

It never fully goes away. And that’s ok.  It’s ok that it becomes part of who you are.  There is so much support out there for those suffering from a miscarriage – for the whole family.  Below are a couple of really helpful sites:

http://www.tommys.org/miscarriage?gclid=CMHix7jF7LICFaTKtAodrXkA-w

http://www.nct.org.uk/pregnancy/miscarriage-support

If you’re in the thick of this, grab all the support you can.  That doesnt mean you have to talk when you dont’ want to talk.  It just means you can lean on those who love you.  Don’t shut them out because they can walk through this with you and it makes it a lot less lonely.

Seriously baby…come on out (C’s birth story part II)

…At 6cm they finally thought that I was getting somewhere.  Right then all I was bothered about was making sure there was plenty of gas and air for me.  After over 24 hours I was glad of the pain relief.

Time meant nothing to me.  It neither passed by too fast nor did it drag.  It was like I was in a time vacuum.

There was concern over the baby’s heartbeat after each contraction.  I was vaguely aware of more people coming into the room.  They got my feet in stirrups and, draining my bladder first (I know, ewww), took a sample of blood from the baby’s head to test it.  Whatever they were testing came back ok so, I presume, they were happy to see how things would go.

And then I had the most ridiculus urge to push.  We all hear about this and it’s not even like you’d expect.  Urge isn’t really the word – it makes it sound like you have control over it! Beause you don’t!! So I’m pushing away not and they’re all “no no not yet!!”.  I was all “oh really? Ok thats no problem at all I’ll just pull back on that completely INVOLUNTARY activitiy then!!!!”.  In the haze there was a eureka moment.  Oh, thats what the panting thing is about.

I think in the end I still wasn’t quite ready to push but they said go ahead anyway.  I have absolutely no idea how long this part lasted.  I remember moving around so I was hugging the back of the bed.  I remember hearing the midwife tell me that i really needed to push baby out now because it was getting very tired.  My mum has since said that they were getting ready to intereve but then, just after 10am 06/05/2006 out shot baby just in time.

Baby was a girl.  Although we had three girls names and no serious contender she was Chloe almost immediately.

And that was it.  We were in love.

…Get set…..get set….come on baby, show yourself!!

Some women go weeks over their due date.  Really, hats off to them.  Because when your time has come, although you are seriously petrified, you’re ready to…not be pregnant anymore.

I only went over four days before I went into labour, the waiting started when the contractions showed up.  After 30 hours the midwives and consultants were ready to intervene if I didn’t get the baby out very soon.  But first back up a bit…

The contractions started at 4am.  I was so excited.  They came through regularly straight away – every 7 or 8 minutes.  After a couple of hours they were coming around every four minutes and by 8am I could not imagine the pain getting much worse.  We headed, through rush hour traffic, to the hospital, worrying that we’d not get there in time.  A midwife led me to a room and examined me.  I HAD NOT EVEN STARTED TO DILATE.  The midwife said she did a sweep to help me along.  How very kind of her.  Within minutes we were out of there to take it easy back home.  Via Macdonalds for a drive-thru breakfast.

Bear in mind that the contractions are still coming through every four minutes.

looking back that whole day was a blur.  What did we do?? What I do remember is that these contractions were not slowing down so I was gettting pretty worn out throughout the afternoon – only I couldn’t rest.  By tea time we’d had enough and called the maternity ward up to ask if we could come back.  I don’t know why we choase rush hour again.  I was relieved to get back there and onto a bed.  A midwife came in, checked me over. TWO FLAMIN’ CENTIMETERS. I acknowledge – at least my uterus is starting to co-operate.  But come on! I though I was minutes from sneezing the baby out! I had the choice to go upstairs onto the women’s ward or go home and I chose home and very soon thats where we were heading again.  Via the fish and chip shop for tea.

At some point in the day my parents must have left the north east to bomb it down the motorway into Lancashire to meet their first grandchild.  They were home by the time we got there with our chippy tea.  And oh my life, I remember struggling by this point.  Each contraction coming thick and fast.

I remember trying to have a bath but just writhing around in us for a matter of minutes before I had to get out.  It must have been toward midnight that my mum made the decision to head back over to the hospital.  I remember thinking that the next time I came back through our front door would be with my baby in my arms.  I remember the next midwife.  She was called Anne and she was very…Old school.  No messing.  I was given gas and air this time but it didnt help at all.  Another thing that didn’t help was being told that after 20 hours of pain you’re STILL ONLY TWO CENTIMETERS DILATED.

Anne told me I was panicking, tensing my body and creating ineffective contractions.  She also told me it was a back to back labour and this means more intense back pain.  She told me to close my eyes and find my happy place.  My first happy place was hitting this woman over the head with something so I had to find a second happy place.  She showed me how to ‘dance’ with The Husband, draping my arms around his neck and swaying side to side through the contractions.  Then she told me to go home.  Again.

To be fair, I was approaching the contraction completely differently now.  We got back home in the early hours of the morning, and we all went to bed to try and rest.  As I lay next to The Husband, listening to his rhythmic sleepy breathing, I concentrated on each wave of pain, trying to relax my body through it.  After an hour or so I had tried lying on my side, lying on my back, kneeling against the bed and standing up.  I went downstairs and The Husband joined my in our living room.

I stood Rob up so we could ‘dance’ and as the pain rose, I remember thinking that I wanted to die.  I’d had enough.  Perhaps the hospital could give me something that would knock me out so I could rest.  I looked up at Rob and he’d fallen asleep on my shoulder.  A ‘gentle tap’ woke him up and he decided enough was enough.  I bit onto the seatbelt throughout the 15 minute car ride back over to the hospital.  I had fully decided that I would chain myself to a bed if I had to.  I was not going to be going back home pregnant.

This time when I tried to the gas and air it brought immediate relief, and in those moments I forged a lifelong love for the stuff.  They kept telling me to just use it as the contractions were coming.  Stuff that, I breathed the stuff in and out like it was oxygen.  In the haze of pain relief I heard distant relieved voices and someone saying that I wasn’t going anywhere this time…(to be continued).