Sweet relief

16.1 - and we still have a heartbeat, together with a very active little fetus (or is that foetus? I never know...) So our first major milestone of 15 weeks has been reached. My lovely OB has set me a new goal of 20 weeks and she appears to be rather amused by my pessimistic attitude to booking appointments too far in advance. She asked me today if I booked in at the hospital, to which I could only snort in reply. Hell, I haven't even booked my morphology scan in yet.

A stitch in time

Corny, hey? But true all the same. It was just in time - my cervix was about 1cm dilated when my OB put the stitch in, so I guess that explains the nasty pains I was having leading up to it.

Looking back now, the whole procedure went quite well although at the time, I felt emotionally and physically fucked. Normally I tolerate general anaesthethics quite well and love nothing better than a good hospital stay. What's not to love? The endless uninterrupted TV viewing, peace and quite to complete a crossword, food delivered to your bed (I'm a product of 5 years at boarding school. I actually like the taste of bland, mass produced institutional food - it's comforting) and every so often someone comes around and shoots me full of morphine.

This time however, there was no morphine to take the edge off. Only panadol, which is not quite the same. And I felt shakey and unsettled, fidgety and very anxious. I seriously considered discharging myself as I had a strong urge to be at home, in the comfort of my own bed surrounded by my own possessions. My cannula was badly sited and becoming quite painful and it took a great deal of self control not to remove the bloody thing myself. Eventually, I managed to convince myself that I needed to be there so my OB could do another scan the next morning to make sure we still had a heartbeat and I did manage to get a decent nights rest, which surprised me a great deal.

It's been 4 days since the stitch was inserted and only now can I say that I'm feeling far more human than I was and much less fragile. I can feel the stitch, it's not uncomfortable or painful in anyway but I definitely am aware that it is in. If I stand up too quickly, or sneeze/cough, I can feel a gentle tug so my mind is never far away from it.

I'm still second guessing every little twinge or niggle that I feel and am terrified that miscarriage is imminent but I think I'm slowly learning to relax a little bit and take one day at a time. I've not had anymore cramping or acheyness, which is very reassuring. Long may it continue. 15.1 weeks today. Yay me.

Scared

Lots of women in second (& subsequent) pregnancies tend to forget how far along they are as they are busy dealing with exisiting children and the demands of everyday life. I am not one of them. I know exactly how far I am (14w 2d today, thank you very much.) and how much further I have to go.

I am rapidly approaching the dreaded 15 week mark - the point where we lost our last baby and I'm scared. I have been terribly anxious about this date and for a while there thought all was going so well. That we might just actually make it. That was until dead on 14 weeks, I started having a nasty heavy (and if I want to be completely honest) possibly achey feeling low down in my pelvis. Thankfully though, I've not had any other signs of impending miscarriage - no bleeding, no contractions, no discharge.

I am booked for a cervical stitch tomorrow. I just pray I can hang on long enough to see that through or at very least be well and truly under a general anaesthetic before it all goes pearshaped. I couldn't bear to relive the nightmare of a 2nd trimester miscarriage again.

The plight of the working mother

Today Matthew is sick and I am at home with him. My self-professed "family friendly" employer took this news less than happily because Wednesday happens to be the day that the person I job share with has her RDO.

The feeling of worry I had earlier today about his health has been washed away and now replaced with guilt. Guilt that I have asked to have the day with my sick child. Guilt that others have had to re-arrange their schedules to accomodate my family. Guilt that I am now feeling guilty about work instead of focusing on my son.

If

I have been tagged by both Shel & Jenn for this post and I'm not sure where to start. I've been pondering over it for a couple of days and am still not sure what I actually want to write about so I thought I'd just bite the bullet and do it and see what crap comes pouring out.


The obvious one first - If I'd actually applied myself in highschool instead of spending my days smoking behind the science block and sneaking out at night I may actually have a job that I love, instead of one that I barely tolerate just so the bills are paid each week.


If I hadn't made the choice to follow the boy I thought I loved many years ago, I would never have met the wonderful man I do love today. And the thought of not ever having met this wonderful family that we've created is almost too much to bear.


If we'd decided to keep the very first house we'd ever bought instead of selling it off prematurely we could be retired and living on a tropical island, spending our days drinking Mei Tai's & lolling about in hammocks. Yeah, okay maybe not but it is something we regret.


If I'd continued attending lectures instead of dropping out, I would be a primary school teacher now. Wow. Scary.


If I'd asked to change piano teachers instead of giving up because one teacher gave me the creeps (here's looking at you, grubby old Mr Brown), I might be able to play more than "Chopsticks" and "The Rose".


Righto Jodie, Ellie, Little White Dove, Claire & Red Haired Girl - here's the rules.

1. Link to the person who tagged you.
2. List 5 things that could make your life very different should it come true.
3. Tag 5 other people.

Now off you go...

Monday memories - week 3

My mother recently located this photo of me doing my GI Jane impersonation. I was 20 and joined the Army Reserves. T & I lived in Rockhampton at the time and I had to travel to Townsville to my recruit course - this photo was taken minutes after my Passing Out parade. I was officially a Private.

This photo is actually really hard for me to look at. My father was thrilled beyond all belief when I told him I was joining up - we are a military family from way back and my brother had never shown any interest in enlisting. It was not long after that T & I moved back to Brisbane and I joined up with the Transport company at the Enogerra Barracks. I had just suffered some ear problems when our platoon was made to told we would be taking on what was affectionately known as "Heartbreak Hill" - a gruelling 2km run up a steep moutain. Needless to say I didn't make it and with my ego left in tatters around me I did what I do best. I quit. Dad and I have never officially spoken about this decision however I do know for a fact that he was shattered.

Monday Memories - Week 2

Like Ellie, I am actually lying when I say this weeks photo has a memory attached to it. It seems neither myself or my dear parents can actually remember anything related to the interesting item in this photo (which IS NOT my Holly Hobby undies, just in case you are wondering). Friends and neighbours, I'd like you to focus on my footwear...

The first three or so years of my life, I wore correctional shoes. Apparently. Can anyone remember why I wore these Gump-esque appliances? No, they cannot. Did anyone think to retain them for sentimental purposes, along with the staggering collection of 1970's baby clothes that simply had to live on? No, they did not.

You will be pleased to know they did however carefully save every one of my big brother's baby teeth. Second Child Syndrome, do you think?