Week 17

I begin to figure out that not everyone knows I'm pregnant...especially those not in the "Facebook World."
I had my 30th birthday a week ago and one charming guest (no names) came up and said after my speech (which mentioned my bittersweet feelings about this pregnancy) and said "I had no idea you were pregnant!" The tone was jovial, joking. I nodded in assent. "Gee..." this guest continues, with a slap on my back and a huge guffaw, "I hope this one goes all right." Cue exit, guest wanders off, leaving me looking for the candid camera. This one? As opposed to Sybella, that one? The guest made it sound like we were talking about a birthday cake that had sunk. Not two baby's lives. My babies. It really makes me question the self awareness of others at times. It makes me tired of playing by the rules, stepping around other's feelings, not allowing them to feel uncomfortable in the presence of a stillbirth mother, making it okay for them. Most people are genuinely caring and honest and sympathetic. Others dont even stop to check themselves and then continue to give themselves permission to behave in an unthinking and uninsightful way by saying "well, that's just me. It's who I am." I dont know about anyone else, but I am a person who constantly tries to appraise my own behaviour, engage in self improvement, be conscious of the effect that my actions or words may have on other people and then adjust accordingly. It's disappointing to hear the cop-out from others "it's who I am, love it or leave it." I'm starting to leave it, truthfully!
Enough psychology. Judging from the above rant, one can come to the conclusion that I am feeling rather hormonal??? To the point where I am crying during Junior Masterchef. Yep. Those poor kids are under so much pressure! They cry...then I cry. I want to spirit them all away, feed them soup, tuck them onto the couch with a pillow and blanket and put on the Playhouse Disney channel. And not let them anywhere near a kitchen. Hormones? I think so.
Another appointment with The Boss (scheduled this time) shows a lovely beating heart and no call on whether Rainbow Baby is a boy or girl. His words are "not enough there to say it's a boy, but I wouldnt make a call on it being a girl either." What do you make of that? I'm a bit scared of the baby being a girl. This is weird, irrational reasoning...but I have given birth to a beautiful, healthy boy before, and so I know I can do that. Perhaps whatever it was that cause Sybella to die had something to do with her being a girl. Who knows? I just feel afraid that if this baby is a girl, she might have the same "problem" (whatever it was, as Sybella's stillbirth was unexplained) as Sybella. And possibly die. A boy, on the other hand, will leave me feeling much more confident about the outcome of this pregnancy. Anxiety...mixed with grief and hormones...makes for odd thinking. On the weekend, a friend said to me "God will choose, and has chosen the perfect new member of your family. This little one is the best fit for you and yours." I loved that. No mention of boy or girl, just a person. And like I said, it doesnt matter one iota to me what the sex of the baby is, but on some level, I think knowing the sex will help me bond with the baby. Once I knew Jack and Sybella were a boy and girl respectively, I began to bond with them as a real person, not an unknown entity in my womb. It helped me attribute a personality to the baby. And...of course, it helped me feed my Virgo neuroses and allowed me to plan accordingly. With this baby, I find myself engaging in self preservation by remaining somewhat detached. Of course, we love this baby and cant wait to meet him or her. But in the back of my mind, I fear another stillbirth and I try not to think of the baby as a real person...as if that would make it any easier if the worst was to happen. As a result, learning the baby's sex might help the baby seem more real to me and I will start to encompass the idea that we will meet him or her in February.
That said, this pregnancy already has such a different energy to Sybella's pregnancy. I dont know what that means, or whether it means anything at all. That's a more spiritual plane that I wont try and interpret or analyse right now.
However, I am very exhausted physically...I have been pregnant forever. All in all, I have spent 17 consecutive months pregnant.

I miss sushi.

See Baby This Week

Week 16

It has been a fairly uneventful week, drama wise! I suppose that is good. I start to think I can feel the baby kick! That is pretty exciting. I have had three major jabs in the mid-abdomen, and lots of fluttery, twitchy feelings in the lower abdomen. It starts to feel real to me now. 

16 Weeks



Now, check out that picture. 16 weeks?! I look more like 30, if you ask me. I reconcile this by saying it's my third baby. Kelvin reconciles it by saying it's fat. Thanks buddy. (He's kidding, by the way).



I was having those bad dreams I mentioned in earlier posts. I ended up going to see The Boss for an unscheduled appointment because I was getting scared. We also had some bad news from a friend that their baby had a life threatening condition and they had no option but to interrupt the pregnancy. This news was devastating to hear, and while my heart went out to this couple, the psychological effects of the news played on my mind in regards to my own baby too.

My official morphology scan is in three weeks time, so I will get all the information then, but when The Boss does his little scan on his low resolution machine, everything seems fine. I ask him if he can see anything "pecker like"...but no luck. The baby has it's legs open and The Boss is looking hard, but there is nothing there, formed enough, to see at this stage. He cant even give me a guess, or a gut feeling. It just looks like a Barbie doll...smooth...



Being able to see Jack's pecker at 12 weeks, I begin to think the baby is a girl? Surely, by the formula, if we knew Jack was a boy at 12 weeks, surely we should be able to see if this baby is a boy at 16 weeks? Since there is no discernable penis to be seen, I am changing over to the girl camp. Once we know for certain, I will definitely post it...no surprises here! And I will post our most beautiful girl's name we have chosen too...(if it IS a girl, of course!)

Truthfully, the only reason I want to know the sex is curiosity and impatience. I will happily take either a boy or a girl, it doesnt faze me in the slightest. All I ask for is that he or she is breathing.

See Baby This Week

Week 15

Ah, the dreams. Some were about the baby, some were not. I had a couple of dreams bout being abducted and locked in a room alone for years and years. Perhaps my subconcious is telling me I feel trapped? Not "trapped" as such, more like emotionally restricted. Grief followed by and coupled with intense anxiety is enough for anyone. I also had a dream that I had a beautiful baby girl. I took her shopping with my mum and Jack...and I left her in the car the entire time! That was frightfully awful to wake up from. Of course, it is never something I would do in real life! So to dream it was terrible. Especially since I want this baby to be okay, so badly, that to dream that I wasnt adequately caring for her was distressing.

I am due to work for the next three weeks, which I am really looking forward to. I am working (I'm a teacher) four days a week at my old school that I worked at before I left to have Sybella. Unfortunately, a few days before I am due to start, I receive a phone call that Parvovirus B19 (Slapped Cheek/Fifth Disease) has broken out in the school. I am not immune to Parvovirus...I have had my levels checked. Parvovirus does not cause birth defects like Rubella or CMV, however, it can cause the foetus to aquire severe anaemia, which ultimately ends in foetal demise. After speaking with The Boss and the counsellors at Mothersafe, I tell the principal that I am unable to come into work. The chance of catching this virus is too high and I am not willing to take the risk. The principal completely understands, given my history, although we are both disappointed. I really could have used the money and the social interaction...not in that order! I find myself becoming very paranoid about getting ill after the Parvo situation. I am this close to wearing a mask when I go out! I remember being 29 weeks pregnant with Sybella and standing in line at Medicare. A kid was behind me in a supermarket trolley with his mother. He was making odd noises, so I turned around to see what the noises were and he spat on me! I never got sick from that, but worried about it a lot. Another child, while working at school during Sybella's pregnancy, sneezed on my arm and bucketloads of saliva and snot went all over me. If that happened now, I would have a mini heart attack, I know it.

So as a result, I avoid kids at the shops with any weird rashes, I talk to Jack's kindy teachers and ask them to give me a heads up if any kid comes down with a bad virus. I am going too far, I know it. But cant help it.

Jack and I saw this rainbow the other day. I like to think it is a sign that our Rainbow Baby is strong and healthy and getting ready to meet us.

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Week 14

Food. Cant stop thinking about it. I am someone who is very cautious with what I eat in pregnancy. I am very restricted. I do find myself faltering a bit lately...not as healthy as I should be. I put it down to having been pregnant for a year already. I havent had any decent sushi, camembert or red wine (3 of my favourite things!) for ages. Not that I am digging into that kind of food while I am pregnant...they are all big no-no's. But I am eating weird stuff. Like the picture shows. Mini dim sims, at the same time as watermelon and raspberries. Even I know that's pretty odd. But hey. Maybe the obsession with Tzatziki is actually what I should be worried about. It goes on everything right now. Yes, everything. Strawberries, olives, celery...and cheese.

The bleeding continues slowly. Sometimes blood is there, sometimes it isnt. I am not really worried because the baby was fine at the last check a week ago. When I start having strong pelvic pressure and light cramps, though, I kind of...lose my mind. Albeit privately. I am constantly monitoring the feeling of pressure...and I remember I had it at 13 weeks with Sybella. The description I gave to Miss Karen, the Reading Recovery teacher at work was "It feels like everything is going to fall out..."

I have that feeling again, but am somewhat comforted by the fact that I experienced previously...and clearly, Sybella never "fell out" at 13 weeks. So I tell myself it is normal. I also tell myself that the cramps are stretching pains. They arent like contractions at all, not even similar to period pain. More "sharp." When I start to ache in the pelvis, waddle like I am 40 weeks pregnant, not 14 and have trouble taking one foot off the floor just to put a pair of pants on, I know that the cramps are progressing to Symphisis Pubis Dysfunction, which is what I had with Sybella. However, it began at 20 weeks with her...here I am at 14 weeks! I was told this but didnt want to believe it..but the aches and pains get worse with each subsequent pregnancy. I know that in my heart of hearts, that if everything goes well with this baby, and he or she is born alive and healthy, that the idea of another pregnancy is not something that Kelvin or I would enter into lightly. I always wanted three children, which is what I am going to have. It just happens that only two of them are with me on Earth. One is in Heaven. However...and I dont even want to say this, but if things dont go well, I know that Kel and I will try for as long as it takes to have another baby. I cant let the experience of Sybella's death be my last experience of pregnancy and birth. I need to do it one more time and have a happy outcome. These are the things I think about at 2am in the morning, my mind spinning, sitting in the dark, for hours and hours.

I usually wake up at this time after a horrible dream. They happen due to hormones quite often. My first bad dream about the baby was that I decided I would perform a c-section on myself! Of course, the baby didnt survive. It was a boy and he came out blue and lifeless. I visited The Boss in my dream and he was very unconcerned about the whole thing! He wasnt worried that the baby was dead, or the fact that I had done my own surgery...when I woke up, my heart was pounding. There were plenty more of these dreams to come, I soon found out.

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Week 13

I cant believe that we reached the "safe zone" and I have started to bleed. It is scary blood too...bright red and lots of it. Even some large-ish clots. My brain tells me that the baby must be fine...what on Earth could have happened within 24 hours that would cause a miscarriage...after all was so great at the ultrasound?
Maybe I shouldnt answer that...after all, Sybella showed no signs of distress or problems at all. She just stopped living. And we still dont have an answer for that.
All the same, I call The Boss and tell him what is going on. I have the perception that he isnt comfortable around teary women, so I bite my lip as I speak to him, but the waver in my voice is still completely obvious. Basically, he says that he doesnt necessarily (I hate that word) think it is bad news and even if it is, nothing can be done anyway. He says it kindly and with sympathy. I understand what he means...at 13 weeks, if a foetus is going to die, not much can be done to stop a miscarriage. Logistically, I know this to be true. Even driving down for a scan wont help anything. It will give me reassurance for an hour, thats it. I have two things in my favour: a healthy, normal ultrasound less than 24 hours ago, and an absence of any pain. The Boss asks me to call the next day to tell him what the bleeding is doing.
By the time I make the call the next day, the bleeding has lessened and has turned brown. That is a good sign. It means it has become less oxygenated and the acute reason for the bleeding is now finished. Even though it has only been 2 days since my last scan, I drive to see The Boss anyway, just to check. Baby is fine and good. That helps for the time being.

In the mean time, I start to worry about how much caffeine I am consuming. I know Mothersafe says that the equivalent of 6 cups of cola is the maximum. I wouldnt drink that much, I am sure. On average, I have 2-3 cups of tea a day, 2 glasses of Coke...maybe 3 if I have bad nausea. See, the tea helps my headaches I get once a week and the Coke settles my stomach. It probably isnt the healthiest habit around, and I should probably think about cutting back..but what is worse do you think? (This is a genuine question so feel free to answer in a comment!)...a cup of tea to help a headache or 2 panadol tablets? A glass of Coke to settle morning sickness or anti-nausea tablets? Then, it's the age old issue. I drank NO tea with Sybella, but probably the same amount of Coke...and she died. I drank NO Coke with Jack and 3 cups of tea a day, and he's great. He can write his own name and he's only 4!
Any advice or wisdom regarding caffeine in pregnancy is welcome!

The rest of the week passes uneventfully. The bleeding continues, albeit slowly and intermittently. I begin to become obsessed wth food. I have fleeting cravings and I HAVE to eat  that food RIGHT NOW! Mostly I want salty stuff. I buy a box of frozen dim sims from Coles and cook them up. I fill a cereal bowl with soy sauce and float the dim sims in the sauce like soup! I have this idea in my mind about a recipe involving raw pickled cabbage and some sort of Vietnamese dipping sauce. I cant figure out what exactly what it is...but I cant stop thinking about it! I was sure this baby is a boy, but now I start to wonder. I never craved food with Jack...I had a normal appetite. But with Sybella and this baby, I WANT something and I WANT IT NOW! 
It's actually quite a disconcerting feeling! You know, along with the constant fear and anxiety that a stillbirth mother experiences in a subsequent pregnancy... ;o)

See Baby This Week

Week 12

Ah, the magical week. The week where I become "safe." Aha!

I have my nuchal translucency scan at 12 weeks and 6 days. I work myself into a lather of worry beforehand. I've said before, that if something bad is going to happen, I always feel like it will happen to me. I hate the numbers game. Odds and risk factors usually calm people, if they are low. Not me. I always seem to be that 1 in 100, 1 in 1000. I am one of 2% of the female population that has a retroverted uterus. Jack was one of the 2% of babies that are born breech. Sybella was in the 1% of babies that had pyelectasis. She was also in the 1% of babies that are stillborn. Since the nuchal translucency (NT) scan is basically a risk factor given to you for your personal risk or odds of having a baby with Down Syndrome, the results tend not to mean much to me anyway.

In the days leading up to my scan, I find myself acting in preparedness for a bad result. I clean the house and change the linen. I do a big grocery shop.  I realise that I am ensuring I have my creature comforts available, and am making sure my house is a haven of comfort, in the event that the scan brings bad news and I need to take to my bed. Like I did with Sybella. I didnt leave the house for weeks after her death. So in case I am told that this baby is dead too, I need to make sure the house is ready for me not to leave it.

On the morning of the scan I am physically sick with nerves. I spend an hour in the bathroom. Although I have been having low resolution scans with The Boss for the last few weeks, this is the first "official" scan of this pregnancy. My last "official" scan with Sybella ended with them telling me she had no heartbeat. So it is a massive milestone.

On my way to the hospital, I also realise the date. It is August 24. Exactly 4 months since Sybella was born. And here I was, about to have my 3 month scan for a new baby. That sent me into a total slump of guilt and fear.

I sat in the waiting room, jiggling my foot. When I was finally called into the room, I froze.

In the room, I stood at the end of the bed and started to cry. I couldnt make my body lie down. The sonographer looked from me to the door and back again. She wasnt sure what was going on. "I'm sorry" I sobbed. "The last time I was here I was told my baby was dead." She looks at my notes and nods. "Okay" she says. "Take your time."

I cry a bit longer but eventually manage to get onto the bed. She asks me if I want the screen turned off so I dont have to watch. I decline. She quickly, like a bandaid being ripped off, puts the wand on my abdomen and before I can think about it, she says "baby looks fine."

First hurdle crossed. The kid is alive.

She methodically and carefully takes measurements and shows me as she does. I see the heartbeat and it is at a good rate. I see features of the little face, and I see all the arms and legs and fingers and toes. The sonographer has trouble getting measurements because the baby doesnt stop moving around. It was very different to Sybella's morphology scan, where the sonographer couldnt get measurements because Sybella wouldnt move at all. She stayed curled up, which made for difficult visualisation. Eventually the kid calms down and the measurements are finished. She says everything looks great and is happy with what she saw.

We gots oursleves a mooner!

I have a talk to the doctor on duty, who goes over the results with me. One of the measurements that is taken is the width of the nuchal fold...the amount of fluid behind the neck. The more fluid that is measured, the higher chance the baby has of having Down Syndrome or another chromosomal abnormality. Combined with blood tests of certain proteins in the maternal blood (I had the blood tests during week 10) and maternal age (I am 29), you get an overall risk factor based on a ratio of the chance of the baby having Down Syndrome. My risk factor for Jack was 1 in 12,000. For Sybella, it was 1 in 10,000. For this baby, it was 1 in 7,000. Obviously, the risk is higher the older you get, because the main reason for Down Syndrome occurring is maternal age. As you age, the quality of your eggs decrease, resulting in a higher risk for chromosomal abnormalities.  As it were, my risk is extremely low. The cut-off for a high risk pregnancy is 1 in 300...so obviously, I am way beyond that.

All in all, a succesful scan. I skip to the car, feeling light for the first time in weeks. I ring Kelvin to tell him all is well. He is ecstatic. We spend the evening making our announcment to family and friends. I make a facebook post, Kelvin text messages almost everyone he knows. We go to sleep happy.

When I wake up in the morning...again...I am met with the sight of bright red blood.

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Week 11

Hyperanxiety equals hypervigilance. It's exhausting. Sometimes I just dont know what to do with myself.
The bleeding stopped and my next appointment with The Boss was uneventful. The baby looked fine on the scan and had grown appropriately. I was able to breathe for a few days until the next drama.
In our backyard we have flowerbeds on the perimeter of the grass. Cats come at night and do their business. Not very often, but it's pretty gross when they do. Now, pregnant women know that cat poo is a big no-no in pregnancy. You arent meant to change kitty litter because cat poo can harbour Toxoplasmosis, which is a virus that harms the unborn baby. So when I found a heap of cat crap in the garden, I got Kelvin to dispose of it. Which he did. By dumping it straight into the council bin without bagging it first. That's not so bad...for a normal person. But I'm not normal...I am out of my mind with anxiety. I am so scared of this baby dying too I go beyond boundaries to protect it. Which is why I hired a man to come with his spray hose, broom and bottle of disinfectant to come and clean all our council bins. That's pretty insane. But I'm aware of it. This is where fear pushes me. Beyond normal limits. Maybe unless you have buried a child, you wont understand where I come from. Maybe you do, even without having had your child die. Sometimes I have to mentally slap myself, though. I have to remember that whatever happens with this baby...I have pretty much no control over it. I learned that with Sybella. I never put a foot out of line when I was pregnant with her, and she was stillborn. I had no control over her death. I couldnt have prevented it, no matter how hard I tried. Ultimately, it is the same with this little one. I have to trust that things will go the way they are meant to. As hard as that is to relinquish control like that.
On the upside, I have magnificently clean council bins. And they look beautiful!

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Week 10

I am packing groceries into the car when I feel the all too familar sensation of pelvic bleeding.
Sure enough, when I get home, I panic at the sight of blood in my knickers. It is brown in colour, which isnt as scary as the bright red stuff. And there isnt very much. But it is still a shocking sight when you are pregnant, to see blood...when and where you shouldnt. I call The Boss and his secretary (I should really call her The Boss!) tells me to come in straight away. I must travel to Sydney, and it is 3.30pm, the beginning to peak hour. I have a bad feeling as I drive. I start to feel menstrual-type cramps and I convince myself it is all over. I have Jack with me and he decides it is the most appropriate time to become a devil-child. He refuses to sit in the doctors office because the one next door has better toys. He plays with the water cooler and manages to create a mini-flood. Not terrible beahviour, but definitely stressful, considering what I am feeling. I tell the Boss that I have a bad feeling and dont feel great about this baby when he is ready to see me. He seems terse and says "Am I interested in what you think?" I actually appreciated that comment because he didnt seem all that worried about the wellbeing of the baby. If he wasnt worried, maybe I shouldnt be. I lie down in anticipation of the ultrasound I am about to receive and the next 10 seconds of The Boss trying to find a good image feels like 10 years. He triumphantly shows me a heartbeat flickering away. I feel all panic drain from my body. Okay. He measures the baby, it is on track. I get a picture and at 10 weeks, it is starting to look like a "real" baby as opposed to an embryonic blob. The structure and form is clear and visible.
Outside, we have a chat. He explains that brown loss is "old." I had heard that, but didnt really know what it meant. He explains that it means whatever caused the bleeding has already occured, and the image of the baby today, happy and alive, means it was unaffected by whatever caused the bleeding. I tell him about the cramps and he says it is most likely the uterus stretching. The initial anxiety has subsided but I am still upset by the bleeding. The Boss seems concerned about my anxiety. He asks how I am coping on a daily basis. I tell him I am okay. But tired. Physically and emotionally. I have had one month off between pregnancies. My body hadnt recovered from the second one before I was launched into the third. My nerves are frayed. Two months ago I held a funeral for my baby daughter. Here I am, pregnant again and bleeding and scared. I explain that I wouldnt have rushed in here if it hadnt been for the bleeding. The Boss concedes that I reacted to a specific event. I am glad, because I dont think my actions were unreasonable in light of what happened. I get the impression he thinks I am over-reacting. I am a little embarrassed by that, because I dont want him to dislike me or think I am a nuisance..I still have 30 weeks to go! But at the end of the day, I am a mother who buried a child. I have every right to be anxious and unreasonable in a subsequent pregnancy...especially one that has been fraught with so much unpredictability. You're pregnant...you're not pregnant...oh, yes, you are pregnant...you have CMV...you are bleeding...I mean, c'mon! Haven't I paid my dues? Dont I deserve a straight shot? Why am I the one who keeps getting these complications turfed at me? I guess God thinks I can handle it.
All I can say is....bring on February...

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Week 9

I feel a little "virus-y" this week. At first I am not concerned, as I tend to feel like that at the beginning of all my pregnancies. When I was 7 weeks pregnant with Sybella I could hardly get off the couch. Same with Jack.
The feeling stays for longer than I'd like, so I head to my GP (not The Boss) to make sure it is nothing nasty. I am super sensitive to anything going wrong and just want the all clear.
At my visit, she is quite sure I just have a low grade virus, being the beginning of Winter, everything is going around. Because I am super anxious, she orders a TORCH blood test. This tests for all viruses that are problematic in pregnancy. TORCH stands for TOxoplasmosis, Rubella, Cytomegalovirus (CMV) and Herpes Simplex.
I have my test and go on my way. The following day, my GP rings. "It's all good news," she says. "All the tests were fine. But your CMV test came back as equivocal."
The blood drains from my face and my heart starts pounding. Equivocal means "low positive"...not enough to be a true positive, but it cant be called a true negative either. My GP is talking on the phone about how the result could be because my antibodies to previous infectton are so high, it is cross-reacting with the current virus antibodies, showing a low positive result. Blah blah blah. I dont hear any of that. She asks me to return for a repeat test in two weeks. CMV causes similar defects in a foetus as Rubella. Brain damage, blindness and deafness, to name a few. CMV affects babies the most in the first trimester. I am 9 weeks pregnant.
I research and research. I find out that I have had CMV in the past, based on tests done on me after Sybella's death. When your body contracts a virus, such as Measles or Chicken Pox, it makes two types of antibodies. IgM antibodies indicate that the virus is new and current. Once you are better and the virus has left your body, your body makes IgG antibodies, that indicates you have had the virus before and you are now immune. This is why you cant catch Chicken Pox or any of the other nasties twice. That is also why doctors and midwives check your immunity to Rubella...if your IgG antibodies are high, it indiccates high immunity and so you dont need to worry about re-infection.
My CMV blood test showed that I had high IgG antibodies, indicating past infection and high immnity, but it also showed equivocal IgM antibodies, meaning that I may or may not have the virus at present. So, since I have had CMV previously, why am I getting it again? Unfortunately, with CMV it is possible to have a reactivation of the virus. Although the effect on the foetus is much less significant, there is still a high possibility of complications even with a secondary infection. So if I have it, it is secondary, so perhaps I can worry less.
Yeah right.
I end up visiting The Boss, telling him in between sobs, what has happened. I think he thinks I am a lunatic. He certainly looks at me like I am! The next ten minutes are a flurry of phone calls. He calls his friend, an excellent infectious diseases specialist. He orders a CMV antibody avidity titres test (or something like that...some test with high specificity and sensitivity) that will get sent to his friend, the specialist, to interpret. He gives me the number of an expert in Congential CMV (CMV that is contracted in pregnancy) to call and talk to.
I have my blood test, and go home to lose a week on Google.
Seriously. I become despondent, depressed and uncommunicative. Kelvin doesnt know what to do with me. I spend every free minute "researching" the effects of secondary CMV on a foetus in the first trimester. I have trouble leaving the house. I cannot believe I have been thrown this curve ball after all I have already gone through. There is a very real possibility that I will have a child with serious difficulties. My second child is dead, and my third might have terrible defects, or even die too.
I have convinced myself that I have the virus. It doesnt even occur to me that I never had a "true postive" in the first place. The first test was only equivocal. All that means is that "we are not willing to call this negative. Please retest." In my head, though, if I were negative, nothing would show up. Since a little of something did, it must mean I have it.
This week feels like a year. I jump whenever the phone rings...The Boss told me that the MINUTE he gets a result he will call me.
The time comes for my next appointment and I havent yet had a phone call with results. I assume he hasnt got them yet and so dont expect to get the results today either.
When I take a seat in his office, The Boss says to me "well, that was good, wasnt it?" My quizzical look must confuse him. "The results. No CMV detected." I realise I have been (emotionally) holding my breath for a whole week. When I let it out, at that very moment, it feels so good. Better than good. The relief is unbelieveable. Then The Boss realises this is the first I had heard of the results...I'd never got the phone call. But honestly, I dont care. I am just so glad to be CMV-Free! My baby is healthy, I can look forward to the rest of my pregnancy and forget about the CMV.
I have since found out that many things cause equivocal blood test results. Room temperature, storage conditions, transit conditions, inexperienced interpreters...the list goes on. I just happened to be one of the unlucky ones who got a false result.
Okay, another hurdle crossed. I begin to wonder what will be next.

See Baby This Week

Week 8

I enter Week 8 guardedly. The initial happiness of my misdiagnosis has worn off and I am back to anxiety. I stress intensely over the indiscretions of the last week....the smoking and drinking. Not that it was in excess. But we know that any level of smoking and drinking is bad in pregnancy. I hope I haven’t done any damage. I judge myself harshly and feel like a bad mother. I know it wasn’t entirely my fault…the sonographer was so definite in her prediction, that what else was I to think? I was basically given no hope. So I hope my funk was forgivable. Of course, now that I know that the baby is alive, I have cut all that out… It’s fresh foods, water and gentle exercise now. I am lucky that I don’t have to work (in a structured paid job, that is…Jack IS work, I’ll tell you that much) and I can devote myself to nourishing this baby as best as I can. Of course, I feel guilty and anxious. But I need to tell myself this: when I was pregnant with Sybella, I was perfect. I did not put a foot out of line. I ate well, didn’t drink or smoke (I even crossed the road if I saw someone smoking, to avoid second hand smoke), and only took a panadol if I was at my wit’s end with a headache. I didn’t drink Milo because it had Vitamin A in it, and hid the weed-killer so that the overzealous Kelvin couldn’t spray RoundUp on the the weeds every weekend and expose me to the nasty chemicals. I shook my head at leftover food and tea and coffee. I was a model pregnant woman. And my daughter died. She STILL died. So what I am saying is this: I can try and control every aspect of my pregnancy and be perfect. But ultimately, it is out of my hands. We all know the woman who smoked and drank during her pregnancy and her child ends up winning a Nobel Prize. We all know the drug addicts who give birth to perfectly healthy, normal children.

And we all know the woman who did everything in her power to ensure her daughter’s health, the daughter who took almost two years to conceive, and her daughter died for no reason.
I think that I have had a kick up the Proverbial from the Universe. The Universe let me know I was pregnant for a third time. It let me think all was going well. It showed me a small bleed, which put into motion the subsequent events that would lead me to believe that my foetus was not viable. It would send me crashing into feelings of despair and failure and indulging in behaviours that pregnant women shouldn’t be indulging in. The Universe would then do an about turn, show me a healthy, viable embryo, in spite of acting like trailer park trash for 5 days, to show me THAT IT ISNT UP TO ME! IT’S UP TO GOD AND THE UNIVERSE! Saying that, pregnant mums of course have responsibility for their growing babies. Now that I know I am pregnant, I am taking that responsibility very seriously. You all get me don’t you?
Luckily, The Boss and the counsellors at Mothersafe dont seem at all concerned. They say it is too early to have done any real damage. That comforts me somewhat.
I do know, though, that if I am not worrying about this, I'll only be worrying about something else.
There's no easy road for a pregnancy after stillbirth.

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Week 7

I started to bleed. Not much, just a little spotting. I take myself to the Early Pregnancy Assessment Service at my local hospital. There I find out that my HCG levels were good at 25000. The midwife assures me that with levels like that, there should be a visible heartbeat on ultrasound, so she sends me off to have one. At the ultrasound, the trainee technician tells me that there is no embryo, only a misshapen sac with bleeding surrounding it. He calls his senior supervisor, who confirms this. She tells me that I will miscarry within the week. I cry. The supervisor is a mumsy type who comforts me with a hug and kind words. I tell her that this is nothing, I had a stillbirth two months ago. I'm just disappointed, and wondering what is wrong with my body. I go home, feeling like a reproductive failure. I smoke cigarettes and drink red wine.
A week passes. The bleeding stops. Nothing else happens. I continue to throw up each morning and my breasts double in size. I put it down to the fact that my hormones hadn’t dropped yet. A few more days pass and I still haven't miscarried. So I went to see my obstetrician, who I call The Boss. I hadn’t visited him before because he was on holidays. I explain the situation. He invites me to have a scan in his office, to see what is happening. I talk to him about how I dont want another D&C, because the last time I had one, I developed uterine adhesions. I ask if I can have a medically induced miscarriage by chemical means. He ignores me as I yabber on and searches the ultrasound sceen. Then he shows me a strong heartbeat of an embryo that is 7 weeks old. I nearly fall off the bed.
Needless to say, I am completely shocked. Obviously, the baby had been too small to see on the ultrasound the week before, but instead of telling me to return in a week, the technician definitively told me that a miscarriage was imminent. This makes me a little cross. I know that mistakes are made and so on, and no one is perfect, but that was one hell of a misdiagnosis. The Boss tells me the initial bleeding sounded like implantation bleeding to him.
I discuss with The Boss my concerns...I had been drinking and smoking for an entire week! He laughs and tells me that they often make the best babies. That makes me feel better.
He sends me on my way with a box of prenatal vitamins. And I breathe again.
 
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Week 6

Kelvin doesn’t want me to tell a soul about this pregnancy until the 12 week mark. I understand why. Due to our loss of Sybella, he doesn’t want to spread the word about a pregnancy that might not result in a live baby. Of course, the innocence and naivety of pregnancy is gone for us. Two blue lines on a stick doesn’t automatically mean “baby” anymore. Pregnancy has become something that I just have to “get through.” I’m not sure, though, why Kelvin thinks the 12 week scan is the magic time that we can announce our news. Obviously, for “normal” people, it is the end of the first trimester. The risk of miscarriage has diminished. You have had your first scan, and if that has gone well, you are in a position to announce joyously the news of your impending arrival. Not for us, though. Sybella’s 12 week scan was perfect. Her risk for Down Syndrome, based on the Nuchal Translucency test was 1 in 10,002. A brilliant result. So we were able to breathe easy and tell everybody our news. Her 20 week scan was also perfect. No issues at all. So despite being a perfectly formed baby with no outward health problems and outstanding scan results, our daughter was stillborn. So you can see why I don’t even trust the 12 week scan for peace of mind. I can’t let out my breath at the 12 week scan. I can’t let out my breath at the 20 week scan. I cannot breathe properly until this baby is out and I hear its’ first cry. By that logic, I don’t think it matters whether or not I wait until 12 weeks until I tell people about this baby. I DO need to tell a select few. I tell my mum and dad, my brothers, my best friend Merrill and my aunt Barbara. Kelvin disagrees with me sharing news with even these people. But I argue that I cannot go 12 weeks with no support, keeping this pregnancy a secret, when I am going to be as anxious as can be. It is not fair to ask me to keep this news just between Kelvin and I, because he is at work for 10 hours a day and I am going to need someone other than him to discuss my anxieties and fears with. On top of that, if I do miscarry, within 2 months of having a stillbirth, there is a good chance I might lose my mind, and so I am going to need extra support in that event. As well as those I mentioned, I also told of my pregnancy to other Babylost Mamas. Only they could fully understand what I was feeling at this time. I needed them to tell me what I was feeling and thinking was normal. I needed to hear how they got through each day…days that felt like months. As for everyone else, I don’t know how or when I will tell them. Some people might only be finding out via this blog. As much as I want to acknowledge this little life from the beginning, I am fearful. I am hesitant to make a formal announcement, or tell people via Facebook. Some days I think I will just turn up to events with a baby bump one day. Not explain anything. Let people ask me. If they ask if I’m pregnant, I’ll answer honestly. Yes. There may even be some people who won’t even know I’ve been pregnant until the baby is born. I’ll just rock up with a baby one day.

It’s not that I’m not excited. But I want to protect myself and I want to protect others. I don’t want them to worry for me or pity me. Even though I know it isn’t and won’t be, I want this pregnancy to be as uneventful as possible.

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Week 5

My period hasn’t started. I’m sure my cycles are getting back to normal after being pregnant for 34 weeks. My uterus has 34 weeks worth of endometrium to shed, so I am sure it will take at least 6 months to regulate. I would go eleven weeks between periods once my cycles returned with Jack. But I was breastfeeding. So that explains that. This time I am not breastfeeding. So I did expect that they might return sooner. I have heard that the more fertile you are, the sooner your periods will return after giving birth. Well, after Jack I had my first period after 3 months. With Sybella, I started cycling 34 days after her birth. I must have good eggs. I did experience infertility before conceiving Sybella, but that was due to adhesions in my uterus, so the problem lay with implantation, not the fertilization process. As soon as I had the adhesions removed, I fell pregnant within two cycles. I consider calling my obstetrician, asking him to investigate why my cycles are irregular. The last thing I need now is to experience infertility again. I go through all the reasons that my period would have returned. It’s still regulating itself…stress…post-partum adhesions…my first period wasn’t really a period, it was continued lochia…pregnancy.

Pregnancy???? No. Can’t be. Well, logistically, it could be, but….no. Very unlikely. Sybella took 18 months to conceive. How can we get one through to the keeper after literally one go?

I go to the shops after dropping Jack at preschool. I buy two things. A box of sushi and a pregnancy test. I go home, put the box of sushi on the counter, and the pregnancy test next to it. I look at them both. Which one do I do first? I REALLY want my sushi. If I do the test and it’s positive, I can’t eat it in good conscience. Even though I don’t think the test will be positive, I eat the sushi anyway.

Right, time to piddle on a stick.

So, the test line appeared on the left hand side before I’d even finished. I look at it, thinking I must have it upside down, because normally the control line appears first, which is on the right. But then a second line appears, which is the control line. The positive is so strong, that the test line appeared first, before I’d finished the wee.
It still doesn’t register. I stare at the stick. I ring Kelvin. “There’s a very good reason I haven’t had my period, Kelvin” I say. “What’s that?” he asks.

“I’m up the duff.”

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Week 4

So, I’ve had one period that arrived pretty much one exact cycle after Sybella’s birth. I’m due for my second one any day now. Kelvin and I have decided to wait until we have Sybella’s autopsy results before we try for another baby. I am anxious to start straight away. I am supposed to have a baby right now, to nurture, to feed, to wrap. And I don’t. So I want to make one. This is not to replace Sybella; it’s to satisfy my primal nurturing urges. Kelvin says we need to give Sybella more time, a period of grace before trying again. I understand what he means. I agree. But my body is aching for a baby. And I am desperate to go back to a place where I am happy and hopeful. Where I have another focus, not just mind-numbing grief. Jack is starting school in January, then what? I will have a child at school, grown up, not at home with me. He will be starting to make friends, do homework. I won’t be the focus of his life anymore. He will have other idols and mentors and influences. That’s good; of course, it’s what I want for him. But it makes me feel dispensable and redundant. If Sybella were here, it wouldn’t matter so much, because I would have her to focus on. She would be six months old. It is so much harder to let go of Jack when I don’t have another living child to turn my attentions to.

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