If anybody is reading, just letting you know I have moved location. I found a different site that I prefer the format for and have therefore switched over. I have transferred most of the entries from this site over and will be posting there from now on.
If you're keen to follow, you can now find me at http://www.babysteps1804.wordpress.com
Unlike this blog, you are able to comment without having a login, so if you happen to stop by, say hello :)
Friday, February 7, 2014
Bit of this and that
Just popping in again with a bit of this and that.
I'm 28 weeks now and very pleased. My next "big goal" is 30 weeks and I'm hoping that if my scan goes well on Tuesday next week I may be able to negotiate leaving - although I am mentally prepared to stay here until 32 weeks. It is however difficult to accept I may be here for twice as long as I already have been. But, as I keep reminding myself, this is in the grand scheme of things a small chunk of my life for a very good cause.
I had my gestational diabetes test earlier this week - standard, routine screening for all pregnant women. Most women do the 1 hour test however because of the steroids I have been given to mature bubs lungs, it can mess up the results and so I had to do the 2 hour fasting test. I had my dinner at 6pm the night before and attempted to have a late night snack before the fasting began (from midnight) however somebody had already ransacked the kitchen and there was no bread or snacks left. My test didn't start until 9:30, by which point I was rather hungry... and cranky. I had to have an initial blood test then drink a 300ml bottle of glucose solution that contained 75 grams of sugar. To put this in perspective, that is the equivalent of about 800mls of the average soft drink. All of that on an empty stomach didn't agree with me too well and I soon became headachy and nauseas. 2 more blood tests later and I was finished and very keen for some real food. Thankfully, my wonderful grandmother had made me a chicken and vegetable casserole and my belly gratefully received it. The good news is I don't have gestational diabetes - not that it was likely as I don't have any risk factors, but it is still nice to get the all clear. I can't imagine how much worse hospital would be on a restricted diet.
Yesterday was a day of mixed emotions. It was the first anniversary of my wonderful Pop's death. He had multiple chronic conditions including diabetes and heart problems and over the years had had many complications as a result, yet always seemed to bounce back. Then a couple of years ago he took a turn for the worse and ended up with a lower amputation as a result of complications from his diabetes. It was a difficult time as he was in hospital for many months and we watched him fade as he lost his independence. The only option was for him to go to a nursing home - something that the whole family really struggled with, in particular my Nan who essentially lost her life long companion. We visited weekly and made the most of what time we had. My Pop adored his little great grand daughter (Charlotte). Then last year on Wednesday Feb 6 we got the phone call that poor Pop had finally got his one way ticket off Earth. We knew the time would come and in a way it was a relief as we knew he was no longer happy and suffering from pain and loneliness, but we were sad all the same. He had requested that he not have a funeral or burial and instead had donated his body to medical research. He always said that if he couldn't go to uni in this life, he would get there in his after life. So off he went to "uni" and in celebration of his life, our family had a BBQ at a local beach that he enjoyed going to. Nice and casual, the way he would have liked. Yesterday I reflected on his life and how he had been in hospital and the nursing home for such a long time and I had a renewed appreciation of how hard the last 18 months of his life must have been. I also felt sad that he will never get to meet his first born great grandson, who I know he would have adored. In his memory we are giving our baby "John" as a middle name - this was my Pop's middle name, but everyone called him that because he did not like his first name. This baby is due on April 29 and Pop's birthday was April 14 - it is unlikely to happen, but I would very much love if my baby could be born this day.
I got another leave pass today and was able to go out for lunch with Antony. We have really missed each other and visits are often more centered around Charlotte and making sure she is getting lots of mummy time. So today it was lovely to get out and have some couple time. Something as simple as going for lunch has lifted my spirits considerably. I have been noticing that over the last week my mood has taken a dip. I find myself more irritable over small things and bit more prone to mini meltdowns. I spent some time chatting to the social worker, really just to offload and I found this helpful and enlightening... I think because I know there is nothing I can do to change the situation I have just avoided dwelling on things, but when given the opportunity to speak freely the tears flowed. I was so wanting to get through this with a positive attitude, and basically, without "losing my shit" and as I spoke I felt like slapping myself and saying get it together already... but it was nice to be reassured that my reaction is normal and that I can have weak moments and that is ok. Getting out for a few hours today has been wonderful for my mental health. I have come back feeling chatty and energetic, but of course being dropped off at the front door and returning to my familiar 4 walls was depressing.
I will say it has been interesting to view hospital from a patient perspective. I suddenly understand why patients become frustrated, why they snap at seemingly small things... I understand what a difference the attitude and interactions with staff can make to the day. In a way I always knew what my impact as a nurse was on patients, but there is a difference between knowing and really knowing first hand. Because I am a "low maintenance" patient at the moment and only require a few minutes of time each shift for a basic set of observations and a couple of medications, I often will only see a midwife for 10 minutes in a day and often it is not even the midwife who is technically "caring" for me - often it is somebody who is relieving for a meal break or just helping out that comes in and quickly does the clinical aspect of my care. This in itself is not a big deal, but when a midwife takes the time to stay for a chat or pops in just to see how I'm getting along, it makes me feel more valued and cared for. A few in particular have been really fantastic and have that wonderful "bedside manner" that is often missed in the struggle to get through impossible workloads and busy shifts. I have always and still do believe I am a good nurse and have always tried to give that human touch to my patients but I think after this experience, I will have a renewed appreciation of the people I care for.
And so that sums up day 32. I had rissoles for dinner - they weren't too bad. There is nothing decent on TV tonight. I have purchased an online pattern for a crochet elephant beanie that I would like to make for bub - I doubt my ability but I will give it a shot anyway. The pattern has not yet been emailed to me, but I hope it will be in my inbox tonight and I will make a start as soon as it arrives. If it turns out well I will post a pic... or maybe I'll post a pic regardless, for a laugh! And that's the news out of Hotel Hospital :P
I'm 28 weeks now and very pleased. My next "big goal" is 30 weeks and I'm hoping that if my scan goes well on Tuesday next week I may be able to negotiate leaving - although I am mentally prepared to stay here until 32 weeks. It is however difficult to accept I may be here for twice as long as I already have been. But, as I keep reminding myself, this is in the grand scheme of things a small chunk of my life for a very good cause.
I had my gestational diabetes test earlier this week - standard, routine screening for all pregnant women. Most women do the 1 hour test however because of the steroids I have been given to mature bubs lungs, it can mess up the results and so I had to do the 2 hour fasting test. I had my dinner at 6pm the night before and attempted to have a late night snack before the fasting began (from midnight) however somebody had already ransacked the kitchen and there was no bread or snacks left. My test didn't start until 9:30, by which point I was rather hungry... and cranky. I had to have an initial blood test then drink a 300ml bottle of glucose solution that contained 75 grams of sugar. To put this in perspective, that is the equivalent of about 800mls of the average soft drink. All of that on an empty stomach didn't agree with me too well and I soon became headachy and nauseas. 2 more blood tests later and I was finished and very keen for some real food. Thankfully, my wonderful grandmother had made me a chicken and vegetable casserole and my belly gratefully received it. The good news is I don't have gestational diabetes - not that it was likely as I don't have any risk factors, but it is still nice to get the all clear. I can't imagine how much worse hospital would be on a restricted diet.
Yesterday was a day of mixed emotions. It was the first anniversary of my wonderful Pop's death. He had multiple chronic conditions including diabetes and heart problems and over the years had had many complications as a result, yet always seemed to bounce back. Then a couple of years ago he took a turn for the worse and ended up with a lower amputation as a result of complications from his diabetes. It was a difficult time as he was in hospital for many months and we watched him fade as he lost his independence. The only option was for him to go to a nursing home - something that the whole family really struggled with, in particular my Nan who essentially lost her life long companion. We visited weekly and made the most of what time we had. My Pop adored his little great grand daughter (Charlotte). Then last year on Wednesday Feb 6 we got the phone call that poor Pop had finally got his one way ticket off Earth. We knew the time would come and in a way it was a relief as we knew he was no longer happy and suffering from pain and loneliness, but we were sad all the same. He had requested that he not have a funeral or burial and instead had donated his body to medical research. He always said that if he couldn't go to uni in this life, he would get there in his after life. So off he went to "uni" and in celebration of his life, our family had a BBQ at a local beach that he enjoyed going to. Nice and casual, the way he would have liked. Yesterday I reflected on his life and how he had been in hospital and the nursing home for such a long time and I had a renewed appreciation of how hard the last 18 months of his life must have been. I also felt sad that he will never get to meet his first born great grandson, who I know he would have adored. In his memory we are giving our baby "John" as a middle name - this was my Pop's middle name, but everyone called him that because he did not like his first name. This baby is due on April 29 and Pop's birthday was April 14 - it is unlikely to happen, but I would very much love if my baby could be born this day.
I got another leave pass today and was able to go out for lunch with Antony. We have really missed each other and visits are often more centered around Charlotte and making sure she is getting lots of mummy time. So today it was lovely to get out and have some couple time. Something as simple as going for lunch has lifted my spirits considerably. I have been noticing that over the last week my mood has taken a dip. I find myself more irritable over small things and bit more prone to mini meltdowns. I spent some time chatting to the social worker, really just to offload and I found this helpful and enlightening... I think because I know there is nothing I can do to change the situation I have just avoided dwelling on things, but when given the opportunity to speak freely the tears flowed. I was so wanting to get through this with a positive attitude, and basically, without "losing my shit" and as I spoke I felt like slapping myself and saying get it together already... but it was nice to be reassured that my reaction is normal and that I can have weak moments and that is ok. Getting out for a few hours today has been wonderful for my mental health. I have come back feeling chatty and energetic, but of course being dropped off at the front door and returning to my familiar 4 walls was depressing.
I will say it has been interesting to view hospital from a patient perspective. I suddenly understand why patients become frustrated, why they snap at seemingly small things... I understand what a difference the attitude and interactions with staff can make to the day. In a way I always knew what my impact as a nurse was on patients, but there is a difference between knowing and really knowing first hand. Because I am a "low maintenance" patient at the moment and only require a few minutes of time each shift for a basic set of observations and a couple of medications, I often will only see a midwife for 10 minutes in a day and often it is not even the midwife who is technically "caring" for me - often it is somebody who is relieving for a meal break or just helping out that comes in and quickly does the clinical aspect of my care. This in itself is not a big deal, but when a midwife takes the time to stay for a chat or pops in just to see how I'm getting along, it makes me feel more valued and cared for. A few in particular have been really fantastic and have that wonderful "bedside manner" that is often missed in the struggle to get through impossible workloads and busy shifts. I have always and still do believe I am a good nurse and have always tried to give that human touch to my patients but I think after this experience, I will have a renewed appreciation of the people I care for.
And so that sums up day 32. I had rissoles for dinner - they weren't too bad. There is nothing decent on TV tonight. I have purchased an online pattern for a crochet elephant beanie that I would like to make for bub - I doubt my ability but I will give it a shot anyway. The pattern has not yet been emailed to me, but I hope it will be in my inbox tonight and I will make a start as soon as it arrives. If it turns out well I will post a pic... or maybe I'll post a pic regardless, for a laugh! And that's the news out of Hotel Hospital :P
Thursday, January 30, 2014
A good day
After yesterday's rage, I was ready to lay back and watch "My Kitchen Rules" on TV having forgotten that it doesn't air on Thursday night. This was just about the straw that broke the camels back and I was feeling really down. Earlier in the day Antony had brought up clean washing and had packed one of his t-shirts - I often wear his clothes around at home and he thought I might like to do the same here. So I was sitting in bed wearing his t-shirt crying when the midwife came in to do my usual observations and of course enquired why I was upset, which triggered a fresh round of tears. She was lovely and sat and listened for a good 20 minutes while I cried about missing my family and being tired and all the other little complaints that have been festering in the background. After she left I continued to cry for awhile before I eventually got over it, made a hot milo and went to bed.
This morning I woke feeling much brighter and looking forward to a visit from Antony and Charlotte. We wandered down to the coffee shop, I ate a cheese scone drowned in butter and had a coffee, out of a cup that wasn't cardboard or plastic and it was amazing. I then beat my husband by over 80 points at Scrabble and got oodles of cuddles and kisses from Charlotte. Aside from my sexy anti compression stockings and my red hospital ID band, I almost feel like a normal person today and it feels great.
So nothing particularly exciting to report, just that I'm having a good day and felt like sharing :)
This morning I woke feeling much brighter and looking forward to a visit from Antony and Charlotte. We wandered down to the coffee shop, I ate a cheese scone drowned in butter and had a coffee, out of a cup that wasn't cardboard or plastic and it was amazing. I then beat my husband by over 80 points at Scrabble and got oodles of cuddles and kisses from Charlotte. Aside from my sexy anti compression stockings and my red hospital ID band, I almost feel like a normal person today and it feels great.
So nothing particularly exciting to report, just that I'm having a good day and felt like sharing :)
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Rage in my soul!
I admit it... I'm going a bit crazy in here. I can do the whole positive what will be will be thing but I can't help having the odd day or moment where I just feel... ANGRY. I even amuse myself with the things that irritate me and sometimes I'm actually ashamed of myself for the things that tick me off.
Like one of the student midwives. Poor girl... she's lovely, friendly and has done nothing wrong at all. She's a first year and so she's keen as mustard to learn and clearly enjoying playing with babies and pregnant bellies as she learns the ropes of what I imagine has been her goal for a long time. So why is it that when she comes into my room to do my observations I feel so damn cranky? Well it's nothing personal towards her, other than she is happy and some days, I don't find the happiness infectious... I just find it annoying. And because she's new and learning, she takes longer to get things done, like finding my babies heart rate with the doppler... and I'm thinking... I can see a huge lump of baby sticking through and you're looking for him on a squishy bit! And I realize I sound like a total bitch and this is completely uncalled for but if I'm honest, I'm just tired of being poked and prodded and practiced on.
Another thing - I have bruises all over my legs. Because of my "bed resting" I am given twice daily injections of blood thinners to prevent DVT's. It's a standard precaution that any long stay patient gets. Naturally after 2 injections of blood thinners a day for the last 3 weeks, I've got some decent bruises happening. It's not a big deal and bruises heal. But some of the midwives make a big fuss about it and ask if it hurts... I'm thinking nah it tickles love! Anyway, I've pushed out an 8 pound baby so a little needle is the least of my problems! See, another petty complaint... somebody feels sorry for me because I have lots of bruises and I get cranky about it! What the hell!!
OOOOOOK, then there is the water jug lady... Bless her, she comes in at 6am with a fresh jug of water for me everyday. It keeps me well hydrated and helps me swallow my meds happily. But honey, please stop wearing such pungent perfume! Not only am I pregnant and a little more sensitive to smell, but my room is not well ventilated and so every morning when the water jug lady arrives my poor body is woken with a startle as it tries to deal with an assault of what I am sure would be a lovely perfume, in a smaller quantity. It does not help that I am not a morning person and every man and his dog from the cleaner to the water jug lady, the midwives and the doctors all want to come and have a chirpy chat by 7:30am. I feel like telling them that if they wish to get sense out of me, they ought to at least bring a cup of tea as a peace offering. Even my 2 yr old understands that Mummy doesn't function at that hour. Before I came into hospital she even started bringing her little step out to the kitchen and standing next to the kettle with her head in her hands saying "oh mummy, I neeeeed a coffee!" Yeah that's right, I'm one of those terrible pregnant ladies who drinks coffee (ok only one or two a day) but I don't eat ham, so forgive me. You win some, you lose some right?
So now I've raged about innocent people just doing their jobs, I can continue to be pleasant and grateful for their care without being a mole towards them, because I've vented my frustration elsewhere. Because ultimately I am not angry at them, I am just feeling like a caged animal looking for somebody to bite. I can't even blame anyone for this. And I can't allow myself do the poor me thing too often (although this blog may have you thinking otherwise) because I'm just so bloody excited about eventually meeting my little boy. I can't wait to squish his little cheeks, to smell his fluffy newborn hair (is there nothing more delicious than the smell of your own newborn baby!) One of my friends bought him some little outfits yesterday and last night while I was watching One Born Every Minute I was cuddling the little outfit and bawling my eyes out because I just so badly want him here, but not yet. I'm hanging on to a thread of hope that he and I will stay together for long enough that when he's born he isn't snatched off me and taken to the nursery. It feels like an eternity away before my baby is all mine. Right now I have to share him with students and midwives and maybe soon I'll have to share him with nursery staff and doctors. Even Antony, who never really got excited about my pregnancy with Charlotte commented that he felt like he was missing out. Can I be blamed for feeling a bit pregzilla sometimes!
The good news is that I have been approved to have a day pass. I don't know when I'll go out or what we'll do (I'm thinking that French cinnamon toast is sounding like a winner). I think it will be wonderful for my mental health, although I may need to be dragged back kicking and screaming.
Now that I've had my whinge I already feel the rage leaving. Deep breaths and pat on the back for making it another day. It's all good!
Like one of the student midwives. Poor girl... she's lovely, friendly and has done nothing wrong at all. She's a first year and so she's keen as mustard to learn and clearly enjoying playing with babies and pregnant bellies as she learns the ropes of what I imagine has been her goal for a long time. So why is it that when she comes into my room to do my observations I feel so damn cranky? Well it's nothing personal towards her, other than she is happy and some days, I don't find the happiness infectious... I just find it annoying. And because she's new and learning, she takes longer to get things done, like finding my babies heart rate with the doppler... and I'm thinking... I can see a huge lump of baby sticking through and you're looking for him on a squishy bit! And I realize I sound like a total bitch and this is completely uncalled for but if I'm honest, I'm just tired of being poked and prodded and practiced on.
Another thing - I have bruises all over my legs. Because of my "bed resting" I am given twice daily injections of blood thinners to prevent DVT's. It's a standard precaution that any long stay patient gets. Naturally after 2 injections of blood thinners a day for the last 3 weeks, I've got some decent bruises happening. It's not a big deal and bruises heal. But some of the midwives make a big fuss about it and ask if it hurts... I'm thinking nah it tickles love! Anyway, I've pushed out an 8 pound baby so a little needle is the least of my problems! See, another petty complaint... somebody feels sorry for me because I have lots of bruises and I get cranky about it! What the hell!!
OOOOOOK, then there is the water jug lady... Bless her, she comes in at 6am with a fresh jug of water for me everyday. It keeps me well hydrated and helps me swallow my meds happily. But honey, please stop wearing such pungent perfume! Not only am I pregnant and a little more sensitive to smell, but my room is not well ventilated and so every morning when the water jug lady arrives my poor body is woken with a startle as it tries to deal with an assault of what I am sure would be a lovely perfume, in a smaller quantity. It does not help that I am not a morning person and every man and his dog from the cleaner to the water jug lady, the midwives and the doctors all want to come and have a chirpy chat by 7:30am. I feel like telling them that if they wish to get sense out of me, they ought to at least bring a cup of tea as a peace offering. Even my 2 yr old understands that Mummy doesn't function at that hour. Before I came into hospital she even started bringing her little step out to the kitchen and standing next to the kettle with her head in her hands saying "oh mummy, I neeeeed a coffee!" Yeah that's right, I'm one of those terrible pregnant ladies who drinks coffee (ok only one or two a day) but I don't eat ham, so forgive me. You win some, you lose some right?
So now I've raged about innocent people just doing their jobs, I can continue to be pleasant and grateful for their care without being a mole towards them, because I've vented my frustration elsewhere. Because ultimately I am not angry at them, I am just feeling like a caged animal looking for somebody to bite. I can't even blame anyone for this. And I can't allow myself do the poor me thing too often (although this blog may have you thinking otherwise) because I'm just so bloody excited about eventually meeting my little boy. I can't wait to squish his little cheeks, to smell his fluffy newborn hair (is there nothing more delicious than the smell of your own newborn baby!) One of my friends bought him some little outfits yesterday and last night while I was watching One Born Every Minute I was cuddling the little outfit and bawling my eyes out because I just so badly want him here, but not yet. I'm hanging on to a thread of hope that he and I will stay together for long enough that when he's born he isn't snatched off me and taken to the nursery. It feels like an eternity away before my baby is all mine. Right now I have to share him with students and midwives and maybe soon I'll have to share him with nursery staff and doctors. Even Antony, who never really got excited about my pregnancy with Charlotte commented that he felt like he was missing out. Can I be blamed for feeling a bit pregzilla sometimes!
The good news is that I have been approved to have a day pass. I don't know when I'll go out or what we'll do (I'm thinking that French cinnamon toast is sounding like a winner). I think it will be wonderful for my mental health, although I may need to be dragged back kicking and screaming.
Now that I've had my whinge I already feel the rage leaving. Deep breaths and pat on the back for making it another day. It's all good!
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
Latest scan
Just thought I'd pop in with a few quick updates.
I'm now 27+1 weeks - another 6 days and I'll have reached my second "goal" of 28 weeks. I had a scan yesterday and our baby is now a bit over a kilogram in weight, putting him on track to be a nice healthy birth weight if we can keep him in the slow cooker. He's been very active with some creepy alien vs predator kind of movement that you can see protruding from my belly. I think this one is going to keep me busy! The other fantastic news is that my cervix has not changed in length in 2 weeks, so although it's partly dilated, length wise it is still 5mm. This could all change quickly but I am happy to see that for now things have settled.
I asked the doctors about when I may be able to go home. Originally they wanted me to stay here at least until 28 weeks. They've said they want me to stay here for now, but if I behave myself I might be able to go home at 30 weeks - so 3 weeks down, maybe 3 to go! Sensing my immense cabin fever, the doctors have said they'll consider allowing me a "day pass" so I can go out for a few hours for a meal or some sunshine, as long as I stay within a close distance to the hospital and promise to come back if there are any troubles. It would be so nice to get out and have some normality, even if just a few hours and it will be good incentive to not play up and have any little episodes that would put doubt in their minds about letting me out.
After yesterday's good news and with a few visitors to look forward to today, I'm feeling much brighter and hoping for a nice relaxed week.
I'm now 27+1 weeks - another 6 days and I'll have reached my second "goal" of 28 weeks. I had a scan yesterday and our baby is now a bit over a kilogram in weight, putting him on track to be a nice healthy birth weight if we can keep him in the slow cooker. He's been very active with some creepy alien vs predator kind of movement that you can see protruding from my belly. I think this one is going to keep me busy! The other fantastic news is that my cervix has not changed in length in 2 weeks, so although it's partly dilated, length wise it is still 5mm. This could all change quickly but I am happy to see that for now things have settled.
I asked the doctors about when I may be able to go home. Originally they wanted me to stay here at least until 28 weeks. They've said they want me to stay here for now, but if I behave myself I might be able to go home at 30 weeks - so 3 weeks down, maybe 3 to go! Sensing my immense cabin fever, the doctors have said they'll consider allowing me a "day pass" so I can go out for a few hours for a meal or some sunshine, as long as I stay within a close distance to the hospital and promise to come back if there are any troubles. It would be so nice to get out and have some normality, even if just a few hours and it will be good incentive to not play up and have any little episodes that would put doubt in their minds about letting me out.
After yesterday's good news and with a few visitors to look forward to today, I'm feeling much brighter and hoping for a nice relaxed week.
Monday, January 27, 2014
Another week down
I intended to start this post a few days ago but couldn't seem to find the motivation or inspiration to do so. I guess in a way that is indicative of what kind of week it has been. Today is week 3 in hospital and the last few days in particular have been the hardest so far.
On Wednesday things started to get a bit hairy. Throughout the morning I was having a lot of Braxton hicks (painless tightenings). These alone are usually not a huge concern as they are said to not cause much, if any, change to the cervix and they don't indicate the start of labor. However given that I was only 26 weeks and that things are a bit touchy at the moment anyway, although I had planned to wander down to the cafeteria I opted instead to have a lazy morning taking naps and reading and avoiding being upright. By the early afternoon these tigthenings were getting worse and some were questionable contractions so I told the midwife who sat with me for about 20 mins monitoring the baby and timing each pain. In that time I had 3 definite mild contractions and a few niggly questionable ones. The doctor then came and assessed me and said my cervix still had some length but was 1-2cm dilated. I wasn't actually in labor, but I was being closely watched and was given a bucket load of pain medication - not because I was distressed, but it was an attempt to relax me and settle things down. The pain meds had the dual affect of bombing me out and settling my overactive uterus and I awoke on Thursday morning feeling seedy but still pregnant. Phew, we dodged a bullet there. Although on Wednesday I was quite calm, having already accepted that this baby might arrive anytime, it was still scary to think - how many more of these little episodes can we get through before our baby comes?
The other thing Wednesday night did was highlight my immense frustration I have felt about the medical staff. I don't want to do the doctor bashing thing... but I have found some of the care to be inconsistent, some of the doctors to be blaze and seeming to make questionable decisions and the communication has not always been optimal. An example of this was on Wednesday. On three occasions now over the last month, I have complained of these mild contractions and each time the doctors have told me that they are not real and that they are not harmful, and every time a scan has revealed further cervical changes that would indicate that perhaps they real or at very least, are having an effect. But each time the doctors have told me not to worry and imply that I am paranoid. Now on Wednesday when this all happened and the doctor said I was 1-2cm dilated he again said, but we're not worried and these tightenings are not doing anything. He said it is normal for a second time mum to have a partly opened cervix... which can be true, but I found it annoying that he suggested there had been no change, when in fact a week earlier my cervix was completely closed. That to me, is change. I guess this might all sound very petty, but all I want is for the doctors to be direct and honest. All that needed to be said was yes there has been some change, it doesn't mean you will be labor soon, but of course it's a possibility. I don't want false reassurance or sugar coating, I just want the story straight and simple.
Anyway, after a terrible night sleep on Wednesday night (due to frequent visits from the midwives and a restless mind) I woke on Thursday feeling absolutely rotten and still a bit bombed out from the pain meds. I don't even remember if anything eventful or interesting happened Thursday, I just remember feeling tired and crappy.
Along came Friday and my "not worried" doctor who was unconvinced I was having contractions and denied any cervical change came and told me he had spoken to his higher up and they were going to start me on a medication that slows or prevents contractions and uterine "activity" - ironic huh? The only downside is this medication can cause a low blood pressure and so for the next 24 hours I required 2nd hourly BP monitoring, day and night, and then at least 4 times a day including once overnight from then on. By Saturday morning I was exhausted and feeling fragile.
It's now Monday and I started the morning feeling very down and very tired. I'm just so desperate to go home and to get back to normal. I'm really sick of eating the same food. I'm sick of being woken up all the time. I feel selfish for occasionally having the thought that I hope this is all over soon - but then I remind myself that this is better than having my baby 13 weeks early. I also feel guilty for complaining when I know that there are other women out there who are trying to start a family and would trade with me in a heartbeat. I feel upset when I hear that Charlotte is missing me and that some nights she has trouble settling down because she misses me. I think everything had just caught up on me and I was feeling miserable.
I'm happy to report that my Mum came to the rescue and visited today and after a nap this afternoon, I feel much better. She once again reminded me how awesome she is and how nothing beats a hug and a chat from your Mum. I hope one day my kids love and respect me the way I love and respect my Mum, I certainly have an excellent example to learn from!
Monday, January 20, 2014
2 weeks and counting
I have started this blog 3 times today and not got far. The first one I started and then promptly felt the need to fall asleep. That was at 7:30 this morning after I'd eaten my breakfast and had my morning ritual of medications and observations. I stayed asleep until 10:30 because I felt like crap and let's face it, what else did I have to achieve today. Then I brushed my teeth and went back to sleep until 11. The second time I started this blog was soon after lunch. I nearly finished it but when I got to the end I realized I was rambling on and it sounded a bit depressing, so I wiped the page and read Harry Potter (part 5) for awhile. Now I'm starting for a third time and wondering how far I will get...
As the title suggests I've now been in hospital for 2 weeks. I am happy to report that I am still pregnant and tomorrow will be 26 weeks. Another week gone, another sigh of relief. At this stage of pregnancy, every day counts and with each week that passes, our baby grows stronger and more ready for the world. In terms of updates I don't have much to tell you. I will have my next ultrasound in a week and they will look again at the cervical length but regardless of what it is, the management doesn't change - I will still be in hospital for at least 2 more weeks but possibly (and probably) longer. If I am discharged from hospital in a month or so, I won't be going home as I know that I will not be able to go home and remain on bed rest whilst I have a boisterous little 2 year old wanting my attention and I will feel far too tempted to resume normal domestic activities. Instead if I happen to be able to leave hospital I will go and stay with my mum so that I can continue to lay flat on my back and focus on staying pregnant! Of course this is all still maybe's and I've mentally prepared myself for the idea that I am here for the long haul.
Hospital has not been too bad really. Naturally I am bored, despite the fact that my beautiful friends and family have given me lots of movies, trashy magazines and books to keep me occupied. Unfortunately though it's more of a restless boredom as I just want to DO something. I keep finding interesting recipes I'd like to try and cook or get cute ideas for an outfit I'd like to sew for my children. I've been trying to find some navy blue and white striped flannelette fabric online, because I had this idea that I could make matching "Banana in Pajama" PJ's for Charlotte and her brother. So far I have only managed to find a cotton striped fabric, so if I can't find flannelette I might get this and make some summer PJ's instead. I've also been trying to think of cute themes to make the babies room when I eventually have the time to do so. At the moment, his room is still a mess of sewing stuff but I'm not in a panic to get it cleaned because I am planning to sleep him in a bassinet next to our bed for at least the first 3 or 4 months when he comes home. It is such a contrast to when I was pregnant with Charlotte - I started buying clothes, toys and furniture for her as soon as I got the all clear at 12 weeks and I had her bedroom finished at least 2 months before she was born - only to realize that when I got home with my little baby that I couldn't possibly put her in a room all alone and so in she came with us and slept in her cot by my side for the next four months. I think if our little boy arrives early I am going to be even more hesitant to have him sleep away from me so I'm in no rush to make a nursery for him. In the meantime though, it's nice to think about ideas and get inspiration from other creative people who have posted pictures online. Sorry to divert but the point I was making is that for all the idle time spent reading and lazing around, sometimes I just want to get up and be productive and I go a bit stir crazy when I can't. On the flipside of stir crazy, sometimes I just feel absolutely rotten - really tired and sluggish, like today when I slept away the best part of the morning.
I have to make an honorary mention to the food. Now I must say that the majority of the meals are actually pretty decent. Today I even had a butter chicken curry that was quite enjoyable and if it hadn't arrived on a hospital tray I could have been fooled into thinking it had come from the local Bombay Bliss. There have however been a few meals that have been absolutely awful. This brings me to Cat Spew Mince. I first encountered Cat Spew Mince on the second morning of my stay in Hotel Hospital. On the menu it is listed as "Savoury Mince" which I thought was an odd breakfast item but since there was no other choice, I ticked the box. What arrived on my plate was a sloppy concoction of slightly lumpy sauce with the odd pea scattered throughout. Next to this sloppy meal, a solitary wedge of raw tomato stood looking sad and lonely on the side of the plate. My immediate thought was that back in my day as a nurse on a general medical ward, if that had come out of the business end of my patient I'd scoop it up it a specimen jar and send it to the lab. Still, I moved past this thought and ate it. The taste was not enjoyable but with lots of salt and ingested quickly, it filled the hole in my stomach. Then it gave me heartburn all the way until lunchtime. Awesome. So can you imagine my distress when just a few days later the specimen jar worthy "savoury mince" reappeared! I am not even joking, cat spew mince has now appeared 5 times in 2 weeks on the menu. Fortunately Antony brought me a packet of crumpets and some golden syrup in last week so when cat spew was served again, I had a back up plan. Aside from this, and one particularly nasty textured vegetable quiche I have found meals to be quite edible and the portion sizes plentiful. I guess the only complaint is that I miss that "home cooked" taste and the variety and control that one normally has over what and when they eat. It is particularly cruel as my hyperemesis only settled down at 20 weeks, before then I'd lived on cruskits, so I had just started to enjoy eating normal food again then 4 weeks later landed myself here. I have a mental "bucket list" of things I plan to eat when I escape, although given that I'll be either attached to a breastpump or a baby, all meals will come with the requirement of being able to be consumed one handed.
And so that brings me to the end of my 25th week of pregnancy. When we started planning for this baby 19 months ago wee never expected that it would take 13 months of assisted fertility treatment. We didn't expect that we would go through another miscarriage, but we did. We certainly didn't expect that I would wind up in hospital at just past half way through the pregnancy counting off the days hoping not to meet our little boy months before his April 29 due date. But here we are... and I know it will all be worth it but right now I'm not going to lie, I have moments where I think - you know what, this is SO unfair. Especially when other people are telling me about funny things my daughter has said or done - I love to hear all about her "Charlotte-isms" but it also makes me feel like a bystander in her life and it makes me realize how much I miss her and how much I want to be at home with my husband and daughter. At the end of the day however, nobody plans for things like this and even though days feel long, it is temporary, so I will entitle myself to the odd "poor me" moment but overall I'll try to keep my spirits up :)
As the title suggests I've now been in hospital for 2 weeks. I am happy to report that I am still pregnant and tomorrow will be 26 weeks. Another week gone, another sigh of relief. At this stage of pregnancy, every day counts and with each week that passes, our baby grows stronger and more ready for the world. In terms of updates I don't have much to tell you. I will have my next ultrasound in a week and they will look again at the cervical length but regardless of what it is, the management doesn't change - I will still be in hospital for at least 2 more weeks but possibly (and probably) longer. If I am discharged from hospital in a month or so, I won't be going home as I know that I will not be able to go home and remain on bed rest whilst I have a boisterous little 2 year old wanting my attention and I will feel far too tempted to resume normal domestic activities. Instead if I happen to be able to leave hospital I will go and stay with my mum so that I can continue to lay flat on my back and focus on staying pregnant! Of course this is all still maybe's and I've mentally prepared myself for the idea that I am here for the long haul.
Hospital has not been too bad really. Naturally I am bored, despite the fact that my beautiful friends and family have given me lots of movies, trashy magazines and books to keep me occupied. Unfortunately though it's more of a restless boredom as I just want to DO something. I keep finding interesting recipes I'd like to try and cook or get cute ideas for an outfit I'd like to sew for my children. I've been trying to find some navy blue and white striped flannelette fabric online, because I had this idea that I could make matching "Banana in Pajama" PJ's for Charlotte and her brother. So far I have only managed to find a cotton striped fabric, so if I can't find flannelette I might get this and make some summer PJ's instead. I've also been trying to think of cute themes to make the babies room when I eventually have the time to do so. At the moment, his room is still a mess of sewing stuff but I'm not in a panic to get it cleaned because I am planning to sleep him in a bassinet next to our bed for at least the first 3 or 4 months when he comes home. It is such a contrast to when I was pregnant with Charlotte - I started buying clothes, toys and furniture for her as soon as I got the all clear at 12 weeks and I had her bedroom finished at least 2 months before she was born - only to realize that when I got home with my little baby that I couldn't possibly put her in a room all alone and so in she came with us and slept in her cot by my side for the next four months. I think if our little boy arrives early I am going to be even more hesitant to have him sleep away from me so I'm in no rush to make a nursery for him. In the meantime though, it's nice to think about ideas and get inspiration from other creative people who have posted pictures online. Sorry to divert but the point I was making is that for all the idle time spent reading and lazing around, sometimes I just want to get up and be productive and I go a bit stir crazy when I can't. On the flipside of stir crazy, sometimes I just feel absolutely rotten - really tired and sluggish, like today when I slept away the best part of the morning.
I have to make an honorary mention to the food. Now I must say that the majority of the meals are actually pretty decent. Today I even had a butter chicken curry that was quite enjoyable and if it hadn't arrived on a hospital tray I could have been fooled into thinking it had come from the local Bombay Bliss. There have however been a few meals that have been absolutely awful. This brings me to Cat Spew Mince. I first encountered Cat Spew Mince on the second morning of my stay in Hotel Hospital. On the menu it is listed as "Savoury Mince" which I thought was an odd breakfast item but since there was no other choice, I ticked the box. What arrived on my plate was a sloppy concoction of slightly lumpy sauce with the odd pea scattered throughout. Next to this sloppy meal, a solitary wedge of raw tomato stood looking sad and lonely on the side of the plate. My immediate thought was that back in my day as a nurse on a general medical ward, if that had come out of the business end of my patient I'd scoop it up it a specimen jar and send it to the lab. Still, I moved past this thought and ate it. The taste was not enjoyable but with lots of salt and ingested quickly, it filled the hole in my stomach. Then it gave me heartburn all the way until lunchtime. Awesome. So can you imagine my distress when just a few days later the specimen jar worthy "savoury mince" reappeared! I am not even joking, cat spew mince has now appeared 5 times in 2 weeks on the menu. Fortunately Antony brought me a packet of crumpets and some golden syrup in last week so when cat spew was served again, I had a back up plan. Aside from this, and one particularly nasty textured vegetable quiche I have found meals to be quite edible and the portion sizes plentiful. I guess the only complaint is that I miss that "home cooked" taste and the variety and control that one normally has over what and when they eat. It is particularly cruel as my hyperemesis only settled down at 20 weeks, before then I'd lived on cruskits, so I had just started to enjoy eating normal food again then 4 weeks later landed myself here. I have a mental "bucket list" of things I plan to eat when I escape, although given that I'll be either attached to a breastpump or a baby, all meals will come with the requirement of being able to be consumed one handed.
And so that brings me to the end of my 25th week of pregnancy. When we started planning for this baby 19 months ago wee never expected that it would take 13 months of assisted fertility treatment. We didn't expect that we would go through another miscarriage, but we did. We certainly didn't expect that I would wind up in hospital at just past half way through the pregnancy counting off the days hoping not to meet our little boy months before his April 29 due date. But here we are... and I know it will all be worth it but right now I'm not going to lie, I have moments where I think - you know what, this is SO unfair. Especially when other people are telling me about funny things my daughter has said or done - I love to hear all about her "Charlotte-isms" but it also makes me feel like a bystander in her life and it makes me realize how much I miss her and how much I want to be at home with my husband and daughter. At the end of the day however, nobody plans for things like this and even though days feel long, it is temporary, so I will entitle myself to the odd "poor me" moment but overall I'll try to keep my spirits up :)
Monday, January 13, 2014
Underwear!
I have to balance this blog out a bit... it will get boring for me and for you if all I ever do is discuss my cervical length. So let's migrate an inch or so south of the cervix to my undies... nothing gross, I promise!
We give very little thought to the underwear we adorn. Usually, one will wake in the morning and make a fairly quick selection, perhaps taking into consideration comfort, sexiness or avoidance of a VPL (visible panty line). BUT let me tell you... if you are ever unfortunate enough to be in the position of having a male select your panties, you will soon appreciate what a major inconvenience inappropriate drawers can be.
This saga began on Sunday. I was up with my young lady at about 6am, at which point I selected a nice comfy pair of knickers and got dressed for the day. That night, when I needed to make the trip to the hospital to be checked out, I didn't bother changing my clothes or packing others, as I assumed it would be a quick stay and I would be home later that evening. As you know, I was wrong and was admitted for the night. As we were not sure at this point if I would be staying any longer, Antony went to work and was awaiting my phone call to update him. This happened at about lunchtime and he said he would bring me fresh clothing that evening. He didn't arrive until 6pm. By this stage I have now been in the same set of clothes and undies for 36 hours... not nice.
Naturally I was very excited to get changed into some fresh clothes but upon opening the bag I was horrified at my selection. Just two pairs of undies... one, although a little small for my pregnant self was reasonable, the second however... well I do not even know why I still owned them. Too big and very old and daggy, no doubt from 2.5 years ago when I was full term with Charlotte and 30kg more loveable. Still, I thought, they are clean.
Soon after Antony said he may not be able to make it up for a few days and when I reminded him I only had 2 pairs of underwear I said, hmm, I may need you to be here before I run out, which he didn't seem to quite understand the gravity of.
Fast forward nearly a week and I was becoming rather distressed at not only the lack of clean underwear, but the general lack of clean, well fitting and hospital appropriate clothes that he was supplying. I had given him a list of my requirements and advised him of what current items I owned that I would deem appropriate. I even showed him a pair of undies, with instructions of place of purchase and correct size so he could buy some more. When he arrived however, my instructions had been ignored entirely. Instead of the best and less size 8 undies in nice solid colours I had shown him, he had purchased size 10 bloomers in the most hideous floral design with the description "full briefs" and a bit of lace around the leg holes just to seal the deal. Seeing my reaction he said "I was worried the other ones might not cover your bottom properly" - thanks honey. He was trying, he really was... and I concede that it would be difficult to make selections for your normally size 6 wife when she is carrying a soccer ball on the front... but when you're stuck in hospital all you want is to put on some comfortable clean undies! Is it that much to ask?
At this point, Charlotte was being a ratbag (tired and hungry), I was irritable about the undies and Antony was frustrated and tired from a long week without me there to help out with day to day things. We had a small domestic dispute and suggested I might like to wear a hospital theatre gown for a few days until he could sort it out. Yes, those gowns that tie at the back... Needless to say, this did not help the tension already felt and he left soon after, probably a bit pissed off at me, as that is how I was feeling too.
I am happy to report that over the weekend my mum went shopping for me and Antony has also become better acquainted with my knicker needs. I feel much more relaxed now that I have a small washing basket with lots of comfy clothes to select from each day. The granny bloomers are still here, I figure that if for some reason there is a delay in Antony visiting with clean washing, they would suffice in an emergency situation, however thankfully to this point I have not had to break into them yet.
What I have learnt from this experience is that firstly, you should NEVER have old undies laying about your house because as deeply buried as you may think they are, if you ever find yourself hospitalized, your husband will surely find them. The second thing I have learnt is that it is probably better if you don't even let your husband pack your bag - be organized and have an emergency one stashed somewhere or failing that, ask your girlfriend, mother or sister to do it for you! Men just don't understand!
We give very little thought to the underwear we adorn. Usually, one will wake in the morning and make a fairly quick selection, perhaps taking into consideration comfort, sexiness or avoidance of a VPL (visible panty line). BUT let me tell you... if you are ever unfortunate enough to be in the position of having a male select your panties, you will soon appreciate what a major inconvenience inappropriate drawers can be.
This saga began on Sunday. I was up with my young lady at about 6am, at which point I selected a nice comfy pair of knickers and got dressed for the day. That night, when I needed to make the trip to the hospital to be checked out, I didn't bother changing my clothes or packing others, as I assumed it would be a quick stay and I would be home later that evening. As you know, I was wrong and was admitted for the night. As we were not sure at this point if I would be staying any longer, Antony went to work and was awaiting my phone call to update him. This happened at about lunchtime and he said he would bring me fresh clothing that evening. He didn't arrive until 6pm. By this stage I have now been in the same set of clothes and undies for 36 hours... not nice.
Naturally I was very excited to get changed into some fresh clothes but upon opening the bag I was horrified at my selection. Just two pairs of undies... one, although a little small for my pregnant self was reasonable, the second however... well I do not even know why I still owned them. Too big and very old and daggy, no doubt from 2.5 years ago when I was full term with Charlotte and 30kg more loveable. Still, I thought, they are clean.
Soon after Antony said he may not be able to make it up for a few days and when I reminded him I only had 2 pairs of underwear I said, hmm, I may need you to be here before I run out, which he didn't seem to quite understand the gravity of.
Fast forward nearly a week and I was becoming rather distressed at not only the lack of clean underwear, but the general lack of clean, well fitting and hospital appropriate clothes that he was supplying. I had given him a list of my requirements and advised him of what current items I owned that I would deem appropriate. I even showed him a pair of undies, with instructions of place of purchase and correct size so he could buy some more. When he arrived however, my instructions had been ignored entirely. Instead of the best and less size 8 undies in nice solid colours I had shown him, he had purchased size 10 bloomers in the most hideous floral design with the description "full briefs" and a bit of lace around the leg holes just to seal the deal. Seeing my reaction he said "I was worried the other ones might not cover your bottom properly" - thanks honey. He was trying, he really was... and I concede that it would be difficult to make selections for your normally size 6 wife when she is carrying a soccer ball on the front... but when you're stuck in hospital all you want is to put on some comfortable clean undies! Is it that much to ask?
At this point, Charlotte was being a ratbag (tired and hungry), I was irritable about the undies and Antony was frustrated and tired from a long week without me there to help out with day to day things. We had a small domestic dispute and suggested I might like to wear a hospital theatre gown for a few days until he could sort it out. Yes, those gowns that tie at the back... Needless to say, this did not help the tension already felt and he left soon after, probably a bit pissed off at me, as that is how I was feeling too.
I am happy to report that over the weekend my mum went shopping for me and Antony has also become better acquainted with my knicker needs. I feel much more relaxed now that I have a small washing basket with lots of comfy clothes to select from each day. The granny bloomers are still here, I figure that if for some reason there is a delay in Antony visiting with clean washing, they would suffice in an emergency situation, however thankfully to this point I have not had to break into them yet.
What I have learnt from this experience is that firstly, you should NEVER have old undies laying about your house because as deeply buried as you may think they are, if you ever find yourself hospitalized, your husband will surely find them. The second thing I have learnt is that it is probably better if you don't even let your husband pack your bag - be organized and have an emergency one stashed somewhere or failing that, ask your girlfriend, mother or sister to do it for you! Men just don't understand!
Sunday, January 12, 2014
Update
Just an update - I had my ultrasound this morning to check the progress of my cervix and look at bubs growth. The good news is that our baby is growing well, his current estimated weight at 24+6 days is 770 grams (or 1pd 11oz). Obviously tiny, but for this stage of pregnancy it's a good size. The not so good news is that my poor little cervix is not holding up well. Last week it was 7mm and today it is 5mm. There is just half a centimetre between my baby and the world. So from here, I will have steroids again on Wednesday to help mature his lungs and will otherwise sit tight and try to stay pregnant for as long as I can.
I am breathing a very small sigh of relief that tomorrow is week 25. The hospital nursery will resuscitate and provide treatment to babies born as early as 24 weeks however after some discussion and consideration of what the risks to a baby born this early would be, my husband and I made the decision that if our boy arrived this early we would choose to not provide treatment and to allow him to pass away. 25 weeks for us means this is the point we would allow doctors to attempt to provide treatment and so this means, from now if our baby is born, he will have a chance to live. The thought of a 15 week premature baby is not one I want to entertain though!
In other news, hospital can be moderately entertaining. I am in a single room but with a shared bathroom with the woman in the single room next door. This morning apparently she put in a complaint that the bathroom had not been cleaned properly for a few days. The midwife who she complained to asked me if I had noticed as well and I said yes, the toilet paper hadn't been restocked and there was soap residue on the floor. Upon returning from my ultrasound, a cat fight had erupted between the midwife and the cleaner, because the cleaner had "approached" the patient who complained, which irritated the midwife and so they had a little argument out in the corridor. Then the cleaner came to ask me what she had done wrong... I tried to bow out of the discussion but the cleaner was most upset. As the hour progressed, the cleaner called her supervisor and the three of them were left to sort it out. Drama drama! Meanwhile, I'm just in here twiddling my thumbs, writing my blog and eating chips.
I am breathing a very small sigh of relief that tomorrow is week 25. The hospital nursery will resuscitate and provide treatment to babies born as early as 24 weeks however after some discussion and consideration of what the risks to a baby born this early would be, my husband and I made the decision that if our boy arrived this early we would choose to not provide treatment and to allow him to pass away. 25 weeks for us means this is the point we would allow doctors to attempt to provide treatment and so this means, from now if our baby is born, he will have a chance to live. The thought of a 15 week premature baby is not one I want to entertain though!
In other news, hospital can be moderately entertaining. I am in a single room but with a shared bathroom with the woman in the single room next door. This morning apparently she put in a complaint that the bathroom had not been cleaned properly for a few days. The midwife who she complained to asked me if I had noticed as well and I said yes, the toilet paper hadn't been restocked and there was soap residue on the floor. Upon returning from my ultrasound, a cat fight had erupted between the midwife and the cleaner, because the cleaner had "approached" the patient who complained, which irritated the midwife and so they had a little argument out in the corridor. Then the cleaner came to ask me what she had done wrong... I tried to bow out of the discussion but the cleaner was most upset. As the hour progressed, the cleaner called her supervisor and the three of them were left to sort it out. Drama drama! Meanwhile, I'm just in here twiddling my thumbs, writing my blog and eating chips.
Saturday, January 11, 2014
And so it begins
So here I am - a week into what could end up being a marathon stay in hospital in an attempt to keep my baby boy safe and cooking for as long as possible. With all my spare time I have decided to start a blog, mostly for my own benefit (to kill time and as a bit of a journal). I also figured it might be an easier way for friends and family to keep up to date on what is happening (or hopefully not happening)!
Why am I here? In a nutshell, at 22 weeks I suspected I was having mild contractions and went to the hospital for a check up. An ultrasound showed my cervix to be just 15mm, when at that stage of pregnancy it is usually 30-40mm. I was advised to "take it easy" at home and be rescanned closer to 24 weeks.
10 days later, after taking sick leave at work and trying to "rest" with a boisterous 2.5 year old, I once again was experiencing mild contractions and returned to hospital for another check. The ultrasound showed that my cervix had whittled away to 7mm. And so at 23+6 days I was admitted to hospital for a minimum of 4 weeks with a high chance of staying longer, in an attempt to prevent or delay a premature arrival of our little boy.
This first week has been very up and down. I have only seen my daughter for a couple of hours total this whole week and I miss her terribly. I feel guilty that Antony has to continue working as well as manage everything at home without me. I feel frustrated that things are out of my control, simple things like choosing my own clothes rather than being at the mercy of my husband's underwear selection! I am bored and tired of being idle, although I have been well supplied with books, trashy magazines and dvd's to keep my mind occupied. I miss home cooked meals... and whilst I usually hate having to cook every night, I even miss doing that! Naturally I am also feeling some degree of anxiety as the reality sets in that there is a good chance I will not make it through another 15 weeks of pregnancy, a particularly scary thought after having worked in special care and intensive care for newborns for the last 18 months - I am too aware of the possibly consequences if our baby comes early. The uncertainty and the "what ifs" are torture, if I allow myself to ponder them too long. And so for that reason, despite the inconvenience of being here and all the complaints I could make, I am instead trying to be positive - to be grateful for each day we get through knowing our boy is a day stronger for it. I am choosing to "look on the bright side" that if I had ignored my "gut feeling" that things were not right a few weeks ago that these complications may not have been picked up on and that may have made a difference to the outcome. And although the odds are stacked against us right now, there is a chance we will make it to full term and so until our son is born, I will try to remain hopeful that I remain pregnant long enough to complain of being "huge, tired and over it." Although I hated being 3 days overdue with Charlotte, I would give anything to be there right now! Got to love perspective!!!
Why am I here? In a nutshell, at 22 weeks I suspected I was having mild contractions and went to the hospital for a check up. An ultrasound showed my cervix to be just 15mm, when at that stage of pregnancy it is usually 30-40mm. I was advised to "take it easy" at home and be rescanned closer to 24 weeks.
10 days later, after taking sick leave at work and trying to "rest" with a boisterous 2.5 year old, I once again was experiencing mild contractions and returned to hospital for another check. The ultrasound showed that my cervix had whittled away to 7mm. And so at 23+6 days I was admitted to hospital for a minimum of 4 weeks with a high chance of staying longer, in an attempt to prevent or delay a premature arrival of our little boy.
This first week has been very up and down. I have only seen my daughter for a couple of hours total this whole week and I miss her terribly. I feel guilty that Antony has to continue working as well as manage everything at home without me. I feel frustrated that things are out of my control, simple things like choosing my own clothes rather than being at the mercy of my husband's underwear selection! I am bored and tired of being idle, although I have been well supplied with books, trashy magazines and dvd's to keep my mind occupied. I miss home cooked meals... and whilst I usually hate having to cook every night, I even miss doing that! Naturally I am also feeling some degree of anxiety as the reality sets in that there is a good chance I will not make it through another 15 weeks of pregnancy, a particularly scary thought after having worked in special care and intensive care for newborns for the last 18 months - I am too aware of the possibly consequences if our baby comes early. The uncertainty and the "what ifs" are torture, if I allow myself to ponder them too long. And so for that reason, despite the inconvenience of being here and all the complaints I could make, I am instead trying to be positive - to be grateful for each day we get through knowing our boy is a day stronger for it. I am choosing to "look on the bright side" that if I had ignored my "gut feeling" that things were not right a few weeks ago that these complications may not have been picked up on and that may have made a difference to the outcome. And although the odds are stacked against us right now, there is a chance we will make it to full term and so until our son is born, I will try to remain hopeful that I remain pregnant long enough to complain of being "huge, tired and over it." Although I hated being 3 days overdue with Charlotte, I would give anything to be there right now! Got to love perspective!!!
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