A Sneak Peek at Mini Madam & Some Bad News (28 Weeks)

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Well the good times were short-lived. Just two weeks after telling the world I was finally feeling better with this pregnancy, I’m feeling rubbish again.

Emotionally, I’m beginning to worry about the stresses of having another little one to look after. As Craig is self-employed and solely responsible for supporting this mini family, the night-feeds will be my job (and my job alone) from Day 1. Of course, this would be the case anyway, it’s not like Craig can detach my boobs and get on with it without me! But all of a sudden it seems very real and very scary.

With Dexter not yet at nursery, and getting ever-more demanding throughout the day - I do worry I might see a resurgence of PND too. I also really worry about how my little man will cope with sharing me… and how I will cope being shared! I have this mental image of Mini Madam latching on and Dexter emerging into the room with various treasures he’s managed to collect from around the house - bleach, knives, and scissors… Of course these things are usually locked away, but what if I’m exhausted and get careless, or if Dexter develops telekinesis due to abandonment issues???

In other news, I’m positively ravenous. The odd cherry bakewell and satsuma doesn’t touch the sides anymore. I’ve read that an 11lb weight gain is typical in the third trimester but if this carries on I’m likely to surpass that and eventually require air-lifting to the hospital!

Baby Girl 3D 28 Weeks

We also saw our gorgeous daughter in 3D this week. Craig managed to get a sneak peek too, in-between liberating various medical instruments from Dexie’s clutches throughout the scan. We counted all her toes and fingers and all the right bits were in the right places… including her girlie bits. This was such a relief. There was however bad news to come.

It seems my wonky belly button is due to Mini Madam chilling in just the one side of my belly. My placenta is wedged in beside her and she’s largely confined to my left hand side. Her feet are also wedged in beside her ears in all the tell-tale signs of another extended breech situation. What are the chances???

So it seems I have yet another Tom Daley wannabe lounging in my tummy. Dexter adopted exactly the same position throughout my first pregnancy and it ended with a failed ECV and a ruptured placenta. On my first day of maternity leave I bled out in my living room and had to call an ambulance. Dexter was delivered by emergency c-section a matter of hours later.

Of course there’s a slim chance baby could do a few somersaults and get into position before D Day - but there’s not much room in there for her to pull out such gymnastic feats. Of course I’ll be offered another ECV to try and poke and prod her over-and-under. But I’m beginning to think it would be selfish of me to even attempt this. An ECV might seem like the safest option, but I’ve seen firsthand what happens when it goes wrong. The thought of her getting tangled in my umbilical cord, or kicking my placenta to bits and compromising her ability to get those vital nutrients, frightens me more than the prospect of yet another c-section.

Of course I’m really reveling in the ‘what if’s’ here, but I’m still disappointed and worried. I had been really excited about the prospect of giving birth naturally and it’s sad to think I won’t be able to experience this. I also worry about whether my body will be able to cope with another pregnancy after this.

I’m off to see my midwife tomorrow - seems we have lots to talk about…


19 Weeks Pregnant - Alistair McGowan breaks into our home, and I get ranty about my neighbour

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I think it’s fair to say that pregnancy doesn’t agree with me. Every weekly update so far has been full of doom & gloom and this one will be no exception. So as I’m giving away a BabyWatch doppler on the blog at the moment, I sneakily asked for the entrants to leave me their number one pregnancy tip by way of a comment. The general consensus seems to be that I should rest as much as possible and try to enjoy it. Unfortunately I seem capable of neither.

The biggest problem this week has been sleeping. I’m not uncomfortable, I just struggle to relax and let my mind shut down. I’m only averaging 2-3 hours per night, and the little sleep I do manage is plagued by nightmares about people breaking into the house, Dexter being abducted, or Craig dying. These nightmares sometimes spill into the day resulting in mini day terrors. This means I can be sat on the bus and panicking that someone is wearing a IED, or something equally ridiculous. Clearly my inability to switch off is causing my mind to race. Couple this with my anxiety about completely mundane things and it seems all this is manifesting itself in my dreams - whether I’m awake or not.

Think I’m overreacting? Well if you weren’t before, you will do now.

On Saturday, Craig went to a 50th birthday party and I stayed home. At some ungodly hour in the morning, as I lay tossing and turning in bed in a state of exhaustion, Alistair McGowan entered my house. He crept up the stairs and I saw him plain-as-day stood on the top step decked in a white turtleneck. He didn’t do anything. He just stood there staring at me and Dexter before running back down the stairs, and out the front door. I was utterly terrified and had to call Craig and beg him to leave the party early. This is how ridiculous my life has become.

None of this is aided by my thankfully soon-to-be ex neighbour indulging in a bit of over-dramatics in the bedroom with her new boyfriend. I can’t work out if she’s blissfully ignorant that our terraced house means her bed is actually less than 3 foot away from ours, or she likes the thought of being heard. I’ve never met her other half but I already know so much about him thanks to their x-rated bedside ‘chats’. I’ve never been brave enough to mention this before but it seems insomnia breeds recklessness. I do hope by some freak coincidence she stumbles across this blog and saves me the embarrassment of having to confront her myself, if not for our sake, for the sake of whomever next moves in.

All of this has left me feeling decidedly flat (which is laughable really as you couldn’t get anymore convex than me right now). I barely have the energy to parent Dexter, and I’m very jittery. Tiredness sees me doing very strange things like crying when I have a cuddle with Dexter, or heading for my bed mid conversation with Craig. I actually burst into tears when watching Joey Essex on I’m a Celebrity last night as I felt sorry for his parents! Nothing I do seems to make any sense.

The only person who can give me the reassurance I need right now is my Craig, but for him it’s like living with someone who should be committed to an asylum. I’m not depressed as such, just constantly alternating between pawing over him, or throwing my toys out of the pram.

This pregnancy just doesn’t seem to have registered with him as much as the last one. I had to practically drag him into the bedroom to listen to the baby’s heartbeat on our new doppler, and we won’t spontaneously talk about him / her like we did when I was this far gone with Dexter. The only time he’ll ask me about the baby is when he catches sight of me grimacing when I sit up awkwardly and accidentally treat baby to an abdominal crunch.

It’s not his fault - I think I’m just feeling very guilty about this pregnancy and projecting this onto him. I feel like I’m just getting on with daily life and parenting Dexter rather than talking about / making plan for this baby. With Dexter, at 19 weeks pregnant, I had the nursery set-up and was simply waiting on the gender scan before adding all the finishing touches. With this pregnancy I’ve spent all day being sick, crying and having the occasional bout of IBS - it only serves to increase my anxiety that the gender won’t be the only thing I discover at next week’s anomaly scan.

So that’s it. I’m off to Google some relaxation tips. I clearly need to!

 


Disappointment

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This has been a week of two halves and I’ve had a pretty emotional time of it. Both Craig and I have been plagued with insomnia, sore throats, and earache, and poor old Dex has a front tooth coming through.

Despite this, I was optimistic that we’d finally get a positive pregnancy test and we’d be one step closer to being a family of four.

The signs were a little flaky as we had already tested ridiculously early and had a negative, but as March wore on there was no sign of Mother Nature. My chest felt heavy, I had a metallic taste in my mouth, and I was regularly being sick (with Dexter I was sick pretty much from Day 1). Although both Craig and I were both under the weather, our symptoms were hardly alike and I couldn’t help but feel a little excited.

Yesterday I rang Craig whilst he was working and convinced him to buy us another test. He was reluctant as he didn’t want me to have my hopes dashed but I can be pretty insistent and he relented. Needless to say, the test was negative. I threw it across the kitchen in frustration and curled up on the sofa sulking.

Later in the evening I was pouring myself a drink when I spotted the bastard thing in the corner and went to toss it in the bin - a quick glance down and the result had changed - it was positive. Faint. But a positive.

I bounded into the living room and pounced on Craig like Beethoven. It was impossible to get the smile off my face and I kept on and on to Craig saying “I knew it. I knew it” like there had never been any doubt. Craig was less optimistic and fished the instructions out of the bin to find an explanation for what was a conclusive negative magically turning into a positive.

I was due to go the doctors today for an unrelated blood test. We resolved that I’d beg the nurse to do a HCG screen and wait out the results. I promised I’d not get too excited and would wipe the grin off my face until we had confirmation. But come on, this is Gemma and I had a sneaky plan to test again today.

So today, after my blood test, I bought a Clearblue twin pack at the pharmacy and rushed home to test. I don’t need to tell you it was negative. To top it all off, just half an hour later, my period came.

All I’ve wanted to do all day is cry and sleep, yet I still can’t sleep, and neither could Dexter. We lay in bed with me stroking his hair, and him wincing through the pain of his latest tooth coming through. I’d truly forgotten what a bitch trying for a baby is. It feels like we’ve had heartbreak upon heartbreak since losing the baby back in January and I’m getting impatient. The thought of going through all this again next month is positively exhausting.

Now Craig is home we’ve had a few cuddles and vowed to try harder next month. I know we’re putting a lot of pressure on ourselves but it’s a dream of ours to have two under two so we’ll have to pick ourselves up keep on going.

Wish us luck x

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