I Miss The Bump

Miserable hospital me, allowed out to the hospital canteen...

This time last year I was in hospital, experiencing some proper pain and some gnarly contractions.

The baby was breech.

The baby was sideways.

The baby was the right way round.

The baby was high up.

The baby was so low down the doc touched him when she examined me (ouch).

The baby was coming.

The baby was not coming.

The baby was fidgeting and causing some crazy pain.

The baby sat on his ass sideways (SIDEWAYS!!!) and probably made laughter waves on the damned monitor.

I was in hospital, on the edge for a week.

One doc told me I would have to stay there for three weeks, arranged me a side room and basically told me to hang tight.  Others promised an early c-section.  Another told me I could labour naturally; others laughed in my face.

I saw the full spectrum.

I had some lovely midwives who held my hand as I basically killed theirs when the pain got intense and I had some really awesome drugs which helped everything slow down enough for me to ride out the last few weeks.

I have never really had an 'easy' pregnancy.

I am a short little lady and I get really huge when I am pregnant.  My little body literally cannot hold any kind of capacity, thus it all tends to go out the way.

Weeks 5-13 are generally torture, as I experience waves of nausea, vomiting, and really not wanting to eat while experiencing intense hunger pangs, more often than not in the middle of the night.  I wake frequently and sweat profusely while looking quite podgy instead of 'nicely pregnant'.  I am usually exhausted and need to sleep tons, but find myself waking at 6am. It's joyful.

Weeks 14-28 are the 'grace' period.  This is my favourite pregnant time.  My skin looks great, I sleep normally (apart from the midnight snacks, which I'm happy to indulge) and I have some energy.  I'm also nicely rounded, but not so big as to have people ask horrific questions or touch me. I can still bend down to reach stuff and can wear nice maternity clothes.  Life is good.

Weeks 29+ are usually a nightmare. By week 32 I have reached peak pregnant and I am pretty much ready to be the heavily pregnant lady who takes every seat offered.  People have started saying lovely things about the size of the bump (read: rude things), but mainly because I am the size of a HOUSE and have so long still to go.  I can't reach my shoes or anything on the floor. I'm exhausted. Clothes have started to not fit. The bump has reached comedy proportions.

Week 32+ I am done.  Completely finished.  My body starts to give up pretending that it's okay with being squished from the inside out. It wants to breathe.  It would like it's organs back int he right place, please.  It begins making noises that it would like the imposter in here out now please, okay!!?  I, on the other hand, try to ignore it's awesome attempts at Braxton Hicks and crazy middle of the night peeing sessions and constant demands to be fed (in vain).  Pregnancy at this point is a full time job.  Which I believe is why they let you come off on maternity leave around this time.

It goes without saying that the last few weeks of pregnancy are hellish.  There's all the waiting.  There's the pain.  The constant trips to the bathroom to monitor any signs of 'progress'.  The constant feeding of the huge baby.  I mean, I can EAT when I am sprogged up!

We all know the awful things in pregnancy - even if it's just the small things.  We all know what can go wrong.  We all know how hard it can be, the risk it carries, the crazy things we do.  We all know it's rarely a smooth and thing without worry or stress or fear.

The day of the big C-Section! 39 weeks :)

But, today, in this moment of time, as I look at the picture of my 39 week bump - that massive solid, round thing, I can hardly believe it was possible once, let alone three times.

I'll never forget the magic of feeling the baby poke around with little hands and feet.

I'll never forget the feeling of never being alone and knowing that I was growing a wee soul inside of my body.

I'll never forget the amazing capacity that my body has to do this amazing thing, be chopped up and still be a working, functioning thing.

I very much doubt I will ever be pregnant again.  And besides, I hate being pregnant.  I like being pregnant for around 14 weeks or so, which isn't even half of the time!  I'm a terrible preggers.

But look what you get!

Not bad, eh?

CSections: What to Expect and What To Take With You #csectionawarenessmonth

I've had 3 different csections.

All three have been very different experiences.

Baby Boy!

I feel like a bit of a veteran - my csection scar certainly agrees!

I have had:

1 Emergency C section

1 kind of Emergency C Section (planned)

1 Planned Section

Two ended up with two very healthy babies, one ended up with a baby in SCBU.

Absolutely nothing at all went wrong in my Emergency C Section.

In my final and planned and prepared for C section, I hemorrhaged really badly and ended up with a blood transfusion, plus a horrible post-operative infection.

Being hooked up to an antibiotic drip for 2 days with a new baby to handle is tough stuff!

My third section was easier than my first.

I laboured for over 36 hours before I was finally given an emergency csection with my first son.

I was in hospital in false labour for a week and a half before my planned section for my third.

One thing that the whole giving birth experience has taught me, is to expect the unexpected.

Keep and open mind.

Prepare for every eventuality.

Medical care in the UK has it's faults, but honestly, honestly, it is exceptional. There is some real proper wisdom hidden in hidden places.  The care is amazing.

Here is a wee list of items for your hospital bag which I hope you'll find useful:

• HUGE knickers - honestly. Trust me.  As big as you can get without them being at risk of falling down. You will want NOTHING near your wound. Buy two of the cheapy supermarket packs in black which you can either chuck away at will or send home to wash and keep for the next few weeks. There's no love lost, and they'll do the job perfectly.  Much better than paper pants!
• Also, forget pyjama bottoms for a couple of days. Long flowing nightgowns with booby access are perfect. I found these ones from Mothercare to be perfect for the job. You will have a catheter in, possibly for a couple of days, which is super-glam, but hard to run down a trouser leg!
• When you do get to pyjama/trouser stage: leggings.  Lots of huge leggings, at least two sizes too big.  You want them to go up and over your wound and to be comfy enough to lounge in.  It's definitely okay to basically live in these for the next six months.
• Food.  Nibbly snacks. The thing about a Csection, is that you never know if you will have missed a meal time.  Plus you have to fast before it. Plus there's a lot of hanging around, sometimes you are in longer than you wanted or thought you'd be - keep your energy up with cashews, granola bars, chocolate, crisps, apples etc. and stick some fruit juice cartons in too for getting some post-op vitamins.
• Grabber.  I never had one, but honestly, the amount of times I needed something up off the floor or from the end of the bed!  One of those grab sticks would have been amazing!
• A notebook and pen. If you end up staying, it is so helpful to be able to write stuff down that you need someone else to bring for you next time they visit. It's amazing what you forget you need until you actually need it.
• Body wipes/baby wipes.  Not for your baby, but for you.  Maternity wards are Very hot, often stiflingly so. A quick wipe around with a baby wipe can almost help you to feel human again, especially just before visitors and their cameras arrive...
• Which brings me on to: basic make-up. I am not a huge make up person, not at all, least of all after I've just had my stomach muscles destroyed and had to deal with a new baby, but honestly, it's these tiny little details which give you a slice of normality amongst the blood, pain, medication and counting how many meconium nappies you've changed.  Everyone is different of course, but even if it's not make-up, make sure you pack little bits just for you - toiletries, moisturiser, hand cream (hospitals suck the moisture out of your skin!), just a wee bit of pampering for yourself.  It does help you to feel a little bit more able to face the world!

This is by no means an exhaustive list - not at all.  I also took my own breastfeeding pillow (a big firm one, which I totally credit with helping me to finally master breastfeeding third time round!) and some crochet for times when I felt like I needed something else to do (books used too much brain). 

What did you take to hospital?

Is it your first time?  What are you planning to take?

What are your must-take items?

21 weeks 22 weeks 23 weeks...

So! We made it to 21 weeks for the scan (although I'm 23 weeks this week, but hey, I'm a procrastinator).

So, I thought I'd share with you the scan photo:

And also, the wonderful news that I don't have to think of some kind of crazy name change for the blog.

 Yep - it's another boy!

I am going to be a gang mistress for real now, complete with (very probably) nervous twitch, bad hair and lifelong ambition to get the house clean.

In all honesty though, I am extremely pleased to have another wee body to cuddle, regardless of gender, and am really looking forward to June.

The scan did show a wee problem with our boy's heart - a teeny wee hole in the upper Ventricular Septum of about 2mm.

In typical dramatic fashion, the scan took just under 2 hours to complete due to one very wiggly wriggly baby, who wouldn't sit still long enough (just like his dad!) to let everyone see what they thought they had seen.

Sadly, it wasn't just a grainy image - there really was something there.  It took a midwife, a sonographer and a consultant to check it out, but yep, one wee hole.

The initial conclusion is that it's nothing really to worry about and more of something just to keep an eye on.  In the grand scheme of things, it's early days and the hole should close over before birth. But as we all know, doctors must give us the worst case scenario, so we had to discuss things like the possibility of it being a sign that baby could have Down's Syndrome and also that he may need surgery as a newborn.

Eek.

We were offered the test for chromosomal abnormalities, but declined with gusto - it would only tell us if he did or didn't have anything wrong and it comes with a tenable risk, so we vetoed it instantly.

The way we see it is, everything else on that scan was beautifully perfect.  And he was rolling around like a trooper with huge kicks, punches and headbutts.  Our baby will always be perfect to us.  And we would face any challenge that came our way.  And besides - the strongest possibility of all is that it will all be fine.

It's still not the kind of shock you need at a 20 week scan, but there are definitely worse shocks to get. We were very lucky to be offered a raft of appointments to keep an eye on things; our care now involves cardiologists, paediatricians and lots of extra scans.

One of which we had today in fact.

We had an appointment (or two actually) with the top foetal and paediatric cardiologist in Scotland, no less, who visits our hospital once a month.

We are now on his caseload, which kind of initially makes you go ' whhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!?' because, well, you know, big important doctor, but for the same reason makes you go 'phew! Big, important doctor on the case!' And he had to travel from Glagow to see us today, so there was LOTS of hanging around for his arrival, but it was completely worth it!

He didn't seem too concerned - the feeling being that it's still kind of too early to properly assess actual amount of damage, and if there is the damage that they think there is, then it should be easy to treat.  Be that through surgery (eek! newborn surgery!?! Why was he so relaxed about this?!?) or a wait-and-see-what's-going-on, I don't know.

What I do know is that they are very reluctant to book me in for a csection date until they know more, which is kind of worrying me a bit.  There's a real chance we might end up delivering in Glasgow at Yorkhill rather than in our home town, so that's a bit of a head-mess too; right at a time where we are supposed to be moving house *groan* and trying to transition Ethan to primary school.

We never do anything by halves, that's for sure.

I'm ending today feeling a bit like this is all happening to someone else.  It's kind of hard to get my thoughts around all of the mad changes which are happening in my life, but I'm trying so hard to focus on the positives and keep the stress levels to a minimum.  It's tough though. So many alien concepts, especially after two (relatively) very healthy kids with no real complications.

It would be so easy to crumple under all of the pressure, but that's really not an option. I have to continue being a mother.  I have to go to work.  I have to keep house searching  so we have somewhere to live before this all kicks off.  I have to keep to my commitments and do my best; after all, it's all fun and good and awesome, and that's all happening too.

Dave and I like to have a bit of humour as we go, and we jolly each other along. Our humour might seem a bit black to others at times, but when you are faced with crazy crazy situations like these, it really helps to just generally laugh and make it a bit smaller than it is.  I'm so grateful to have a supportive husband like him.

Life's been a bit all-consuming lately.  I'm still very much grieving the loss of my old boy, Sparky, and we are stuck in a constant cycle of work, shifts, appointments, forms, school stuff, financial stuff etc etc.  I'm starting to look forward to the slower pace of summer, where we'll hopefully be settled with a healthy newborn, maybe a new puppy (maybe!) and the kids are playing in our back garden.

I'm holding on to that image in my head, because in six months time, once again, we'll be in an entirely different part of our lives, and all of this will just be yet another blip in the past.

Fingers crossed.

Ethan's grommets

We weren't surprised when we found out our youngest was deaf, it was actually a relief to find out what wrong with him. It was something we had known about for ages but the wheels of the NHS grind unbearably slowly.

Thomas, our eldest son had been really quick in his development. He was talking by the age of one and holding full conversations quite easily by the time his brother was born when he was two. Ethan on the other hand struggled to get going with his speech, didn't interact with us in the same way and wasn't interested in story books. We spent a lot of time questioning ourselves our parenting. Was this second child syndrome?We were pretty knackered as Ethan was (and still is) a terrible sleeper. 

We also at one point questioned whether he might be autistic. A lot of the symptoms are the same- lack of concentration and interest in activities, difficulty playing with other kids, delayed language development, frustration. 

Then he was struck down with 10 ear infections in 5 months. It felt like we were at the doctor on a weekly basis. He started to hate the doctor. We started to hate the doctor. And I'm pretty sure the doctor started to hate us!

Eventually we saw the specialist and a whole new battle started. He was tested, we realised our wee boy was deaf and the consultant suggested that we do nothing. "Let's test him in 6 months, hopefully it will improve. We don't like going down the surgery route anymore." 

Everyone had their tonsils out when I was wee and as far as I knew grommet insertion was a pretty minor deal. I couldn't see the value in waiting another 6 months, but he was the expert and deals with these things all the time so we accepted his advice and went home for another 6 months of frustration and tantrums. Looking back I wish we had forced the issue straight away. If I had trusted my gut and pushed harder for surgery we might have avoided a lot of tears and misery. 

At the next appointment a different consultant, directed by our concerns, referred us immediately for surgery and about 2 weeks later he got his appointment. Although we were relieved we were really worried as well. After all, we had been told they don't like to dish out surgery anymore and there is always a slight chance things could go wrong isn't there? 

I did a bit of googling- bad idea! The whole thing looks pretty disgusting.



But then I checked out the NHS website and it did help to put my mind at rest, at least a little.

http://www.nhs.uk/Conditions/Glue-ear/Pages/Treatment.aspx

We were a bit anxious about how our wee terror would behave in the hospital so we spend quite a bit of time in preparation. In his bag of tricks we took:

1. Loads of books
2. Pyjamas
3. Pull ups
4. Stitch (The stuffed toy he got at Disneyland after Stitch picked on his dad in the Live Stitch Show- much to his glee!)
5. Cars
6. Jake and the Pirates toys

Ethan with Stitch

We got there feeling ready for a long, boring wait, but were greeted by friendly nursing staff who allocated him a bed and showed him straight into the playroom. He was totally in his element and so relaxed in the setting. He let the doctors examine him without a word of complaint and didn't say a word when they put the anaesthetic (magic) cream on his arm. The staff were all really skillful with their distraction techniques and to be honest I think he didn't really notice what was happening.

When it was time for the operation itself he was allowed to drive to the operating room on a really cool toy car and was distracted with an Ipad while the doctor put him under. This was honestly the only difficult part for me. Once the anaesthetic his his blood stream he faded like a light. It was surreal to see him drop off so suddenly, and then we just had to leave him in the capable hands of the doctors. He just looked so wee and defenseless.

I felt a bit guilty and a bit anxious as we sat in the waiting room, but after about ten minutes we got the call that he was finished and on his way back to the ward. And that was it, except that he slept for about 2 hours after the operation. Other children came and went and we just sat there watching him sleep. It was the longest and most boring part of the day. Eventually he woke up and we got to go  home.

All in all his care was fantastic and the staff were all excellent. I just wish that all hospital wards were run in such a friendly and open way.

His recuperation period was fine as well. Just a few spots of blood and some tears about wearing cotton wool in his ears in the bath. We solved this by all plugging ourselves up and calling the improvised earplugs 'Santa's beard'.

Since the operation his life has changed so much. He talks; actually we can't shut him up. And pretty much straight away he stared correcting some of the errors in his speech. I do miss some of these though. Never again will he tell me, "I c**t do that daddy!"
 It feels great not to have to shout to get through to him, although there is always an element of selective deafness in every child!

He is much happier as well now. He gets on much better at nursery, plays so much more appropriately at home an his imagination has flourished as well now that he can actually interact with his surroundings.

We are unbelievably glad that we did force the issue and push for surgery. It has made all the difference to our 3 year old and his quality of life. Now if we could just get the wee monkey to sleep all night in his own bed...