Week 25

Kelvin got to feel the baby kick this week. I remember when I was pregnant with Sybella and as time went on, I became more and more concerned that her movements werent ever strong enough to Kelvin to feel, probably until the 30 week mark. Even then, her movements were never the soccer kicking boots that Jack used to give me, or that Rainbow Baby gives me now. They were more gentle rolls and "bubbly" twitches. Whats more, is that Sybella's movements never progressed or got much stronger as time went on. Her last ever movement was about as strong as her first ever movement.
The fact that Kelvin was able to feel Rainbow Baby very strongly at 25 weeks was very comforting. As the week progressed, the movements became more regular and predictable. I know when Rainbow Baby sleeps and I know when he/she is due to wake up. I begin to see my stomach move, jiggle and jump as Rainbow Baby rolls around and dances and beats me up from the inside. EVERY movement is one that I am grateful for. EVERY movement is a wonder and I never tire of feeling them. Considering this is most likely my last pregnancy (I just dont think I have the strength or emotional resources to go through this ever again), it makes each kick more special. It is probably the only thing I like about pregnancy right now...the kicking. Everything else about pregnancy is in the "countdown" category.
My life has begun to revolve around Rainbow Baby's movements. I am CONSTANTLY checking, feeling, stopping. If it is longer than half an hour, I drink cold water, eat a handful of lollies and lie down to do a kick count...even though The Boss says that kick counting is not really reliable until 28 weeks. Most of the time, Rainbow Baby concedes defeat, is obedient and gives me a boot. And I love him/her for it.
I waver between thinking the baby is a boy and the baby is a girl. In all honesty, the fact that The Boss hasnt been able to tell me makes me lean towards it being a girl. As I mentioned earlier, Kelvin and I have decided on the name Imogen Scarlett (he's not set on Scarlett, but as Hope's Mama said when she was naming her Rainbow Baby Angus Leo, "who is he to argue with me?" after everything I have gone through?!...I mean, of course he gets a say, but I think my say holds a bit more weight, considering...)
I think Rainbow Baby, if indeed she is a girl, has chosen Imogen as her name. It has never been a name that jumped out at me. I always had my names "picked out" from a young age (Jack and Lucy). Imogen never occurred to me until one day I was picking up toys off the floor and "Imogen Scarlett" just popped into my head. I wasnt even thinking of names. Since then, these "coincidences" have been noticed.

• Reading a home decorating magazine in a waiting room, there was an article about a family with four daughters. Two of the daughters were Sybella and Imogen.
• I found out The Boss has four sons and one daughter. One of his sons is named Jack. His only daughter is named Imogen.
• Picking out a movie to watch one rainy Sunday afternoon, I had an urge to watch Fried Green Tomatoes From The Whistlestop Cafe. I havent watched this since I was 13. The main character's name...is Imogen.
• A man that I worked with back in 2005, whilst pregnant with Jack, also had a baby due at the same time (well, his wife did!) Their daughter, Sienna, was born a few weeks after Jack early in 2006. Via Facebook, I have learned that he has since had another baby girl, and her name is Imogen.

Now, I am sure there is something called "selective observation"...or so my psychologist tells me. I decide on the name Imogen, and so I notice it everywhere. Except that the instances in which "Imogen" pops up are uncannily related to my personal situations and experiences. They arent just "random." I have a stronger connection with each different example listed.
Sure, it's probably just coincidental. But since Sybella's death, I have been desperate for knowledge of a higher power, an understanding of the Universe's purpose. I like to think that all the signs pointing to Imogen are pointing to that. Like she existed before, and Sybella knows her, and is sending her to us.
I must sound like such a hippie!

I'll end my musings on week 25 with a belly shot of me...

Oh wait. That's Miranda Kerr. Close enough...

Is that laughing I hear?

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Week 24

And so the baby is "viable."
How horrid is it that once I get to 24 weeks, instead of saying "yeah, I'm six months pregnant!" I morbidly think "well, if the baby dies now, I have had TWO stillbirths. Not one stillbirth and one miscarriage. But TWO stillbirths." Hmmm. I wonder what that says about my mind?

And so begins one of the worst weeks in my life. I am completely overwhelmed and feel like I am not coping. The thing is, if you know me in real life, you probably wouldnt have picked up on this, especially at the beginning of the week. I still function well at the day to day, but my mind is a swirling mess of thoughts. Things I have to do, things I want to do, feelings, guilt, observations...it's all getting on top of me.
The week began with Kelvin away camping. So alone, with Jack, the poor thing spiked a 40 degree temperature and it ran for three days straight. I have never seen that boy so sick. He was terrible. He basically slept for two days and when he wasnt sleeping, he was crying. I felt so sorry for him and was helpless for much of it. Apart from panadol, nurofen, tepid baths and lots of cuddles, there wasnt much else I could do. On the third day, the fever broke, but Jack then came down with a spotty red rash. By this stage, he was fine, up and running around, eating and so on. I freaked out, wondering what the rash was, whether I would catch it, and what it meant for the baby. After the third doctor's appointment in two days, it transpired that Jack had a viral rash, just an immunological response to the temperature. I had never heard of these, nor seen one, so I was baffled. But all's well that ends well. When Kelvin fell ill a few days later, things went haywire again. I hadnt slept in almost 4 days, up with Jack most of the night, checking him, soothing him, googling meningitis (yep), and now Kelvin was sick. I realised it had been a long time since I had felt the baby move, and amidst all the chaos, I lay down to try and do a kick-count. The baby moved, but not very strongly. Just little twitches here and there, few and far between. This worried me, and so I went to see the Boss for a checkup. Kelvin also ushered me along. With Sybella and Jack, if I mentioned a quiet day, Kelvin wouldnt be worried at all. But now, he was ringing me every five minutes to see if the baby had moved. The Boss was in between deliveries, and had about four of them back to back. My appointment was at 12.30pm, but I didnt see him until 2.45pm. The entire time I was in the waiting room, I spent poking and prodding my belly, which Rainbow Baby studiously ignored. He/she wasnt moving for anything.
After an ultrasound to check the heartbeat and movement, The Boss said he was happy with everything. He said that my perception of the movement was probably skewed because of the stress I was under.
With all this going on, my nutritional intake had been shocking. I hadnt cooked a proper meal all week, and had been eating McDonalds, inhaling a cheeseburger in between doctors appointments, drinking coke to keep myself awake, and to get Rainbow Baby moving. Dinner was pizza or toast. Or noodles. Or nothing.
Who invented Mother Guilt? They need to be shot!
As I write now, I am watching the air conditioner drip condensation onto the couch and soak the mattress underneath on the fold out bed. This means now that I have to strip the cushion covers, as the inserts are soaked, mop up, fold out the bed to dry the mattress, which means moving the rug and the coffee table.
I just need a break! I just want to sit, undisturbed, eat pavlova and watch back to back episodes of How I Met Your Mother. Although Ted is the most annoying character in the world. I can see why it is taking him so long to find a chick to tolerate him. Geez.
Okay, so week 24 is a ramble of out of control musings that I hope have been somewhat amusing at least! Hopefully, week 25 is a little more contained.

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Week 23

I am such a party-pooper. Seriously.
I really really dont want to quash anyone's excitement of their impending new arrival. I have a few friends expecting babies at the moment. There are a few amongst them who have thrown magnificently extravagnant baby showers. I have nothing against baby showers. I had one myself for Jack. They are a lovely rite of passage and beautiful way to celebrate a new baby that is arriving.
If I were to write the last sentence in complete honesty though, I would write this: They are a lovely rite of passage and beautiful way to celebrate a new baby that is hopefully arriving. However, some people I know (not friends so much) have been blogging and have pictures up of their insanely indulgent baby showers. I am talking crazy-thousands of dollars spent-bugaboo prams as gifts-Egyptian cotton cot sheets baby showers.
What is that about? This is my spin on it all.
First, baby excitement is there. It's natural, it's normal. I am in no position to put a dampener on anyone's experiences because of what happened to me. I dont wish to pass a message of fear on to anyone (pssstt...just so you know...your baby may not come home to this personally designed nursery, overseen by Bec Hewitt). It is not my intention at all.
But the truth of matter is that extravagant nurseries are for the parents, not the baby. Really, all that paraphernalia...cushions, stuffed animals, mobile cords, cot bumpers...all I see is a huge SIDS risk. Also, even though I said it wasnt my intention to pass on fear...the reality of the matter is that there are no guarantees. And trust me, there is nothing worse than having everything set up, washed, folded, ready...in a beautiful pink room...that your baby doesnt get to come home to. I still have Sybella's room set up, I havent touched it. I dread the day I have to go through her things and box them up to make way for our new baby. I am not buying one thing for Rainbow Baby. I am counting on gifts after the birth to accomodate his/her wardrobe! But really, I have a bunch of singlets, socks, wraps and jumpsuits that will tide us over during that newborn period. Does Rainbow Baby deserve its own, new things? Yes. But I will buy them when he/she is safely home.
There is nothing wrong with preparation. I get that. But I cant abide spending thousands on a certain type of pram...which is what we did with Jack...and the kid decided he'd rather sleep in a handmade calico sling until he was three months old!
Reading over this post, it sounds mean. And bitter. But I'm not those things, I promise. I'm just a changed, changed person. I'm no longer trusting of an outcome that most people think is inevitable. I am on autopilot with my negativity. Jaynie Seal who does the weather on one of the news programs announced the other day: "I'm having a baby."
100 points for guessing my automatic response to that announcement.
Pregnancy no longer equals baby for me, and I can imagine it is the same for other babylost mothers out there too.
I hope this negativity passes. I'm sure it cant be good for Rainbow Baby. I would turn myself inside out if it meant I had a guarantee that he or she was coming home.

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