Snippets

My birthday presents from the 14th: the turtle and the pink enamelled hearts bead. 

Next is George's little shoe and Little Poppet's flower bead. 

Ray thought "girl" and bought this the day after the hospital when he had to go shopping alone: cue torrents of tears. I still waver between boy and girl. 

Then a ladybird bead; just because.

 

A sunny birthday adventure.

Future Ray and Barb.

§§§§§§§

The saddest (and most drugged) itteh bitteh Kitteh in the world.
Poor sweetie.

"Yes I am absolutely and utterly  f i n e  now.
Please stop fussing and go away... or at least turn up with chicken."

"So, girl cat dude, you wanna, er, like, talk about it or sumfin?"

§§§§§§§

A teapot with a view.

Perfect sweet peas in the garden.

Synchronised chomping.

A very windy cup of tea. Look closely and you can see the wind rippling the tea in the cups.

Evening light.

In the back garden the sun kisses the sky goodnight.

Sleeptight.

Little Days

It's a year today since we found out that our Little Poppet had died.

Still and tiny on the screen.

On the second it will be a year since Little Poppet was taken from my body.

A year since I lost hope.

I'm still trying to find it again but so often it seems just out of reach.

I miss the hope that Little Poppet gave us.

Very very much.

One year ago

It's been one whole year since I found out I was pregnant with Little Poppet.

Has it really been that long?

That Friday all my pre-period symptoms had disappeared and I "tested" with an ovulation dip stick because I only had one pregnancy test and I didn't want to waste it. It showed a positive almost immediately and I sent a slightly hysterical email to Danielle. At this point I still wasn't 100% sure and so I didn't say anything to Ray until the following Monday, when we saw the "real" positive together.

I was officially pregnant for 9 weeks and 3 days but poor Little Poppet's tiny heart kept it's rhythm for about two short weeks, beginning at 6 and stopping at around 8 weeks. I wish I'd seen it beating and felt that surge of hope, even though it ended in our broken hearts being broken again. Did you see the cloud rainbow s/he sent us?

Today the prospect of parenthood seems further away than ever and I can't even picture it any more. Hope seems almost like a foreign emotion.

But I can't bring myself to give up.

Not yet.

There's still a little hope buried in here somewhere.

40 weeks

My period went AWOL this month and I wasn't pregnant, not even a little bit, despite throwing obscenities at 3 snowy white tests. I was absolutely convinced the day before my period was due that I was pregnant, because I had symptoms. You know just how deeply disappointing that was don't you? But I wasn't. I'm not. I know I said I might keep a pregnancy a secret but a non-pregnancy? Ha, pregnancy shmegnancy, you get all of those miserable details. Aren't you lucky.

My boobs were really really sore for about 3 weeks. Fibrocystic breasts anyone? Aargh don't touch! What fun. I've ordered a sports bra to keep them in order.

Can I confess something? I have a book of baby names next to the bed, hidden under a notebook and a silversmithing reference manual and sometimes I look at it when I go to bed if I go before Ray. It's not even a good baby naming book but I read a few pages, wonder why anyone would be called Adolph these days and choose a couple of names, even though I already have names picked out. Then I put it away. In that day or so when I was convinced I was pregnant I read it just a bit more intensely.

Then I tested. And tested again the next day, and again three days after that. Snowy f@cking white.

My period arrived after 5 days of tearful, "this is the end, menopause is here" type misery and poor Ray couldn't quite get why I was just as miserable at getting my period as at not getting it.

:::

Then there was the very terribly anxious build up to Rays colonoscopy, or pooposcopy, or bumoscopy or otherendoscopy. His misery while taking laxatives and his awful fear before and during the test. Frightened is hardly a fitting word. What if it's bowel cancer? What we lose each other?

:::

Like many of you, I'm still reeling from the loss of Wiseguy's so-long-waited-for Lola. She's been a great support to many here and this was supposed to be the beginning of the elusive happy-ever-after that we all long for. I wish so much that it wasn't true. She has such a long sad road ahead of her and if you haven't already, please pop by and help hold her up.

::

There weren't five good things last week and I'm going to have to try hard to find five good things tomorrow.

:::


Sigh.


Today is Little Poppet's due date.

Goodbye

Do you remember this post?

It was right about the time that Little Poppet left us.

It wasn't a message of hope.

I think it was a goodbye.

And that's what I'm choosing to believe.

All curled up

Tiny, just tiny, with us for a moment and gone.

All I can think of doing is crying and writing.

Thank you for listening, thank you for bearing witness to our Little Poppet's small life.

PS if anyone is adept at photoshopping and has a little time to spare, would you have a go at removing the measuring line that goes through Little Poppet? It looks as if s/he was crossed out. :o(
(I have a larger image I could email)

Procedures

Wednesday

The ultrasound tech began the ultrasound, squirted gel and poked around and then decided I needed to empty my bladder so she could do an internal scan. I knew but I couldn't say anything. She prepared dildo cam and began scanning and measuring and I knew. I couldn't see a heartbeat. I knew. Ray said he knew too. And then the soft hand on my arm and the words, "Barbara I'm so sorry..."

I wailed, I think. I remember saying, "No" over and over and over again. I remember Ray grabbing me and his tears spilling into my hair. I remember we both swore a lot.

We sat in the bad news room for a while.

Both Ray and I felt oddly embarrassed walking through the waiting room and out of the maternity unit. Ray called it "the walk of shame".


I called my Mum. And her heart broke. Again.


Thursday

Numb.

Ray went for bread and milk and spent his birthday money on a new bead for my Pandora bracelet. I cried.


Friday

The surgery went well.

We checked into the Day Surgery Unit at 1pm.

There was a woman we knew vaguely in the waiting area with her son (6ish) who was being circumcised (it's not done routinely in the UK) and she asked me what I was having done. "It's rather personal" (i.e. mind your own business you nosey cow).

Ms P the consultant did the honours and decided to try a hysteroscopy as well to have a look around.

I woke up crying.

And in pain. Copious amounts of pain killers topped of with oral morphine and I was wheeled into the ward. "Would you like a cup of tea? Some toast?" No I want Ray.

Every time I moved I could feel the blood coming out. I hate that.

Ray hugged me and I whispered, "baby gone".

I tried a cup of tea and instantly I had painful trapped wind and burped in an unladylike fashion for a while.

Ms P popped in to see us. All normal. One tiny polyp, nowhere near the baby but removed along with one tiny little scrap of hope. No blame to throw at fibroids. Lots of "bloody water" (saline) sloshed around my insides. No obvious reasons. Just one of those things. She's going to refer me for a second opinion on the fibroids.

Lovely kind nurses.

I got up, went to the toilet, got dressed and we left at 6pm.


Saturday

I woke up stiff and sore and achy and crying. At about 3am.

Ray brought me flowers from the garden.

I cried.

Thank you

I am absolutely overwhelmed by your kind messages of love and support. You are wonderful.

I am having an ERPC this afternoon: Evacuation of Retained Products of Conception. Horrid acronym, horrid horrid.

I couldn't bear to wait to miscarriage "naturally".  I am just so afraid of bleeding.

I still feel pregnant. They gave us two scan pictures of Little Poppet all curled up.


I don't know what happens next.

Little Poppet is lost

At the scan today there was no heartbeat.

Little Poppet measured about 8 weeks.

We are destroyed.

9w1d

Oops almost a week since I posted.

Don't worry, I'm still pregnant, as far as I know. (I'll stop qualifying once I have a scan).

Still dealing with nausea and enough gas to power a small town. I AM the burping queen.

3 days till our scan.

Seven weeks four days*

Day long nausea.
The ginger tea isn't doing it any more, I don't feel sick when I eat but sadly constant eating isn't an option. Ice lollies work for a while and I'm now trying ginger snaps and acupressure points.

Any other suggestions?

I didn't get nauseous last time; instead I had vicious trapped wind (of the kind that makes you wonder if it's your heart) of an evening that made me burp so much that I would vomit. I'm hoping that particular symptom does NOT return.

Bad taste in mouth.
Ick, drinking lots and lots and lots of water... still ick... need to pee.


Yawning champion
There was a lovely Spanish lady who volunteered at the charity shop and had the most musical yawns I'd ever heard. I could show her a thing or two now.

Lazy bed staying
11am yesterday morning, yikes, and only because we needed to get some groceries.

Fruitless knicker/toilet paper checking
Looooooong may it continue. Not the fearful checking every time I feel a bit damper than usual; I'd quite like to lose that compulsion.

"Don't touch the boobs!"
[cat strolls across my chest in bed and begins pounding on my shoulder...] No really, they hurt... getoffff!


And seriously, isn't it all absolutely marvellous!


I keep reminding myself that I'm pregnant, can you believe it? Me?





*Until the ultrasound in 14 days which tells me that my own calculations are all wrong...

Nesting

Ray decided to take the ceiling down in the back room/George's never room/Little Poppet's room to be, the bathroom and the little hallway... We need new insulation and soundproofing.

 I wasn't allowed in, the dust you see. So I made tea and sandwiches.

Little Poppet will have a small room but with a nice view of the garden.

It feels good to be doing watching Ray do something to make a place for a new life. We never got around to it for George. We thought we had time. We'll decorate in neutrals and I can add my own paintings to babyfy the room later. I have lots of unused small canvases. I will just have to decide on designs.

Our living room had similar, although less violent, treatment a couple of weeks ago... carpet! We got carpet instead of the attractive but cooooold varnished floorboards.

From this sickly peachy colour.

To delicious iced coffee and chocolate (wallpaper on just one wall)

It's great having a painter in the family and a landlord very willing to put his hands in his pockets!

PS I got the ticker on my blog. I couldn't wait until after the ultrasound. (18 days and counting...) Our Little Poppet deserves to be celebrated.

Scan?

I phoned the hospital to book my 12 week scan and ask about an earlier one and why I haven't had an appointment through with the consultant yet.

"Oh, you should have had a letter... Ms P wants to see you at 8 weeks... [tap tap tap... takes details... tap tap tap] ah, she's away then, she's back on 30th June? How's 11.30?

I could have gone with another consultant but Ms P is The Big Cheese in the maternity department and knows my history (and my ladyparts) intimately.

But but but... I'll be 9 1/2 weeks. I've got to wait another 19 days!

I would have so liked an earlier scan just for a sneaky peek but as long as there's no bleeding like last time I suppose it won't make much difference.

I'm tempted to manufacture some reason to scan now but that just feels as if I'd be tempting fate so I will wait not so patiently.

Thoughts, hopes and fears

I feel as if we should have taken up where we left off. That I should have miraculously discovered that I was 21 weeks pregnant and only have another 19 weeks to go. That it would be only right and just. Yeah right.

The thought that I have yet to shake and really need to shake is that this Little Poppet will leave us at exactly 20 weeks and 5 days. And probably at 11:05. At the moment I can't imagine bringing this one home alive.

And yet I find myself wandering off on an internet tangent of finding the best cloth nappies or nice easy sewing patterns for baby clothes.

While shopping for my Mum's birthday we skirted close to the nursery section.
"I want to be able to shop there".
"It's too soon Poppet and we need to save some money first."
"Yes but I want it to be ok to shop..."

I need to get a hold of this tenuous thread of hope and hang on to it. I'm trying to avoid adding "if" to every thought.

I'm still waiting for my ultrasound appointment (NHS oftentimes = grrrrr) and I plan on hassling Dr Compassion tomorrow, and then the midwives...

I have to get some maternity bras. I now have only one comfy bra left and it's underwired. The only item of maternity clothing I bought last time was a pair of trousers off ebay that were miles too big. I think buying bras will be another act of hope.

The bumpy country roads around here make my boobs huuuurt! My Poppet is trying to drive more gently to save my boobs. Uh huh, yup, wheel spins in the gravelly car park just for the fun of it?

We keep talking about "last time" as in; I hardly had any nausea last time. I feel more optimistic that symptoms are different from last time.

Oh yes, and the spotting stopped just after my last post.

I think I'll get a ticker after my ultrasound.

233 days to go.

More good news

The lovely WiseGuy over at Woman Anyone? has just had a positive pregnancy test.

Please pop over and help her believe it.

Only 238 days to go.

I'm still pregnant, as far as I know.

I'm still feeling nausea much of the time but I've yet to throw up. Home made ginger tea is gooood.

My boobs are still reeeeeally sore and I wake myself up by rolling on them in my sleep. That's when I'm not waking up to relieve my bladder. Good signs.

I have been spotting off and on since I last posted. Light pink immediately after a poo and very light brown at other random times. None of it reaching my knickers (I'm now a toilet paper checking fool). The midwife isn't worried. The doctor isn't worried. I vary between panic, hope and fatalism. It isn't the same as the bleeding I had with George so I have to concentrate on the hopeful don't I?

I'm on self-imposed lazy sofa rest. I could get used to this.

Hopefully I will get an ultrasound sometime this coming week.

We told my parents on Wednesday. It feels as if each time we tell it's an act of almost defiant optimism.

Hey, I'm pregnant!

Should I get one of those ticker thingies?

Whoop?

Reassurance

I met my midwife today.

She came on duty the evening after we lost George and brought him back in to visit with Rays mum and me. "That's your son". She visited us at home a week later and was so sweet. The same evening I was rushed to hospital haemorrhaging.

"Would you prefer to see someone else? I understand if it brings back bad memories."

Noooooooooo!

It was lovely to see someone who remembered our son. Someone who remembered his name and used it lots. Someone who lifted him in her arms and placed him in my arms. Someone who saw his sweet little face. Someone who knew the enormity of our loss.

She hugged me and passed tissues, we filled in forms and chatted, and she wasn't the slightest bit worried about the spotting on Saturday (there's been no more). I explained that I intend to be a neurotic pest and she agreed on the plan and offered home visits whenever I need them a bit later on (hooray!). She is also going to poke the consultant and Early Pregnancy Unit about getting an early ultrasound (whoop!).

I feel so much better today and I'm enjoying it.

I'm even enjoying the sore boobs and the nausea.

One day at a time.

Quite a few to go.

Fear

I had a little pink spotting last night and a flood of emotion swept me away to my pregnancy with George.

I have been trying so hard not to compare and contrast. Not to let the fear creep up on me too much. And failing miserably!

The spotting turned pale brown and stopped this morning and then came back and stopped again.

I know it's common and it's not the same as the bleeding I had before but I can't help but think, every time a little twinge feels the same, ooh is this it? Is that what caused it? Is it going to be the same?

I cried a bucket load of tears last night and Ray held my hand tightly.

"Why can't it be easy?"

Why does it have to be like this?"

Questions with no answers.

I am much calmer now. Still obsessively knicker checking. "Do you need to pee or are you going to check?"

I've been laughing. But I'm still afraid.

Lab rat

While researching with professor and doctor Google about clo.mid with a view to trying it next month or the month after I kept coming across articles and forum posts about "nature's clo.mid" or soy isoflavones and how wonderful they were and how many positive pregnancy tests....... hmmmm.

Soy isoflavones are purported to do a very similar job to clo.mid so I thought as this month is obviously going to be a bust too, especially with all the stress I've been buried under, I would experiment on myself and see if they messed up my cycle completely.

Feeling as if I was tempting fate I bought a menopause multi-vitamin which came with with a separate herbal supplement of soy isoflavones which was on special offer at a local pharmacy (I'm nothing if not cheap). I took out 5 pills and then carefully put the menopause vitamins away for a very rainy day.

I took 120mg of isoflavones (100mg from the herbal and 20mg from the multivit) on cd4-8 and I ovulated early, day 11 I believe, with lots of sharp, crampy ovulation pain. I couldn't possibly say if this is what helped us get pregnant but I thought I'd put it out there in case anyone might be interested.

I'm a knicker checking fool

Thank you SO much for all the comments and messages on my announcement. It means the world to me to have your support and lovely good wishes.

We have such a long way to go. At 42 there are so many risks and pitfalls to get past. I'm trying to take it one day at a time but I'd quite like to wake up at 21 weeks and be bored silly until the birth.

However.

I'm still pregnant today which is good news.

I am nauseous which is good news.

My boobs are really sore which is good news.

I'm feeling frightened, anxious, restless and impatient which isn't so good.

Every time I feel a little... um... damp... I'm rushing to the toilet to check for blood. Which isn't good at all.

There's no blood at all which is super good fantastic news.

Hopefully the restlessness and anxious knicker checking symptoms will dissipate.

January is a looooooooooong way away.

Dr Compassion was speechless. "Oh............. wow........... er........... congratulations!"

Dr Compassion is contacting the consultant ob/gyn to get an appointment for me sooooooon.

I have a midwife appointment on Tuesday (in the UK the first appointment with a midwife is usually at around 8 weeks, I'll be 5w3d I think)

I'm terrified.

This is our last chance.

I'm so very glad you're all out there.