an update on our blood….

It’s going to be a shit day. After experiencing my boy having to have a blood test its clear I don’t do well with hearing him in pain. His dad is definitely the stronger one so will be there on Monday holding my hand and being the amazing support we will both need.

Looking back through this process, it’s been long and arduous. Getting appointments, getting answers, understanding more about this condition, it’s all been a little stressful. But I truly believe that the world throws you things for a reason.

Through this process we have learnt that although my son has the all clear, I actually do have Von Willebrands Disease. I’m not a carrier, I actually have it.

It’s surprising to the Dr that through numerous surgeries I’ve had and through my labour, I never experienced a bleeding issue. I’ve had my tonsils, appendix and wisdom teeth out – all operations that do cause concern for people with VWD. Every time, I’ve been fine. I’m so thankful for this and it also gives me great hope for my little niece (who at 9 years of age, also has VWD to the same level that I do). She had a traumatic bleed after her tonsils were removed last year and the Dr has warned of issues surrounding her periods and surgeries moving forward. I have always had very light and easy to manage periods and no bleeds at all, so it makes me think, maybe she will be the same moving forward. I hope so.

So once again the universe has played its cards. Its provided me with a challenge and allowed me to come out the other side unscathed and with knowledge that I needed.

It’s a clever place this universe of ours….

Xx

A

questions for my son….

What will you look like? What will you smell like? Will you have your daddy’s hair and my skin? I picture you with a mop of dark locks and big brown eyes. Handsome like your daddy and pale skinned like me. I think you will smell like pure joy and the occasional bit of vomit but that’s ok, we’ll take the good with the bad.

Will you be as big as you feel inside my belly right now? You feel strong and long limbed. You’ve been trying to break my ribs for weeks now I’m sure of it. The doctors think you’ll be a very healthy sized baby but looking at your daddy’s build, that’s no surprise. Long legged like me and broad-shouldered like dad.

What will you be like? Calm like your daddy, slightly eccentric like me? A night owl with him or an early riser with me? My sister insists you will be a night owl, based on the series of kicks you give me from 7pm every night. A sign of things to come she says – an active baby belly at nighttime means trouble for your sleeping pattern. I think I’m ready either way. You haven’t let me sleep properly in weeks now, so my body feels prepared for late nights, early mornings and catching a nap wherever I can.

What will we do? My days will be so different to those I have now. I’ll have you to look after and I’m not sure exactly how that’s supposed to go. I see us taking some time to figure each other out but slowing falling into a routine that’s just for us. I think we’ll take walks to the beach and I’ll watch you sleep and when daddy comes home you’ll make him smile like no one else can. I know I won’t do all of it right every day. I’ll mess up along the way. There will be tears from the both of us but I promise I’ll do my best. I’m new at this too, but we’ll figure it out.

Where will you go? I bought a picture for your bedroom the other day. It’s a quote by Dr Seuss. “Oh, the places you’ll go” Dr Seuss proclaims. I know you’ll go far. You’ll have the drive of your mummy and the travel bug like your daddy, I’m sure of it. I don’t see you being a wallflower. Not with our genes. You’ll be bold and brave and want to challenge yourself and the world. Go everywhere. Do everything. Just make sure I know where you are.

What will you be? Whatever you want is the answer! If poppy gets his way, you’ll be the captain of the Tottenham Hotspur’s. If daddy teaches you well enough, you may be a famous guitarist. I think you’ll be creative and smart. I think you’ll leave your mark on the world as well as our hearts. I think you’ll be amazing at whatever you choose. I think you’ll always be yourself and that is perfection to me.

medium_1077946

What will I be like? Being your mum is a pretty big deal. I still can’t quite believe that I get to meet you soon and that you chose us to be your family. I feel full of something I can’t quite describe. It’s a fear of the unknown mixed with an almighty sense of joy and excitement about what our future holds. I never knew that I wanted you so badly, but now you are on your way, I have never been so sure of anything in my life.

I don’t know what I’ll be like as your mum. I know that I’ll work harder at this than I have ever worked on anything in my life. I know I wont be perfect but that I will give you the best I possibly can. I know that I will make sure you never go without and that you know you are loved every single day. I know that I’ll kiss you too often and probably embarrass you along the way. I know one day you’ll be taller than me but that I’ll still call you my baby. I know that I’ll be proud of you no matter what and that whoever you become I will support you. I know that from now until forever, you will be my son and I will be your mum. I know that I love you to the moon and back and you’re not even here yet.

I can’t wait to meet you.

Love your mummy. x

xx A

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/crissy/1077946/”>CrissyAlright</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;

have we made the hulk?

Today was a good day.

We had our 20 week scan and much to our delight, the little dude is as healthy as can be. All his bits are in the right place and he’s definitely still a boy. Its amazing that you get to see so much detail before the little person is even ready to come out. Every little bone and organ is visible and its a pretty surreal experience to see it all so intimately.

20 weeks

hey little fella

It still feels so bizarre to look at a screen and see the formations of a teeny tiny person who is hidden in my belly somewhere. But there here is, all fingers and toes and heart and lungs in the right position and working a treat.

I went into this scan with a LOT of nerves. Its one thing I wasn’t expecting from this journey. The amount of panic and nervous energy that fills my being in the days prior to a doctors appointment or scan. Every single time I’ve seen that reminder in my diary, I start to think about all the “what ifs”… Have I done everything right? Have I protected myself and my baby against all the things that can harm him? Has my body built him correctly?

There is so much that can go wrong and todays scan was a very important one which would hopefully tell us that we are one of the lucky ones. That our little bundle is built just right. And he is.

Watching him wriggle around on screen I so wish I was able to feel those movements. Maybe then it would feel more real? My placenta is in a position which means I am yet to feel any movements and probably wont for a while yet. Nothing to be worried about according to the doctors but I cant help but feel a little bit jipped missing out on feeling the first kicks of my little guy.

hey big foot

hey big foot

In other scan related news, apparently peanut is not so little. According to the measurements, the doc thinks says he is measuring closer to 21 and a bit weeks as opposed to 19 and a half weeks as we first thought. Thankfully, this is most likely due to my dates being wrong rather than me creating the Hulk baby.

With all of the hormonal issues I was having pre baby and there not being any clear indication of when my last known period should have been, the date we were given initially was always a little bit of a stab in the dark. Seems that we may now be having a late April baby and not a May baby as planned. Either that or he is still due on May 1st and my vagina will never be the same again.

Needless to say, we will be on standby from mid April just in case.

So, todays blog is a positive one. A happy one from a pretty stoked preggas chick that everything is going as smooth as we can hope for. No bitterness or craziness to report today. Just relief, and a bit of a brag about my perfect little dude.

xx A

can I get a re-do?

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking the last week about the day we found out we were pregnant.  So much has happened since that day and it has been such a blur that it is only in recent days that my mind has had a chance to reflect.

Firstly, I think Hollywood owes me an apology.

Secondly, Son, if it’s the future and you are reading this……. Stop now.

The movies and all of the stories that I had heard, painted a picture in my mind that I had envisaged for most of my adult life. That romantic and blissfully happy moment when you see 2 little blue lines appear after weeing on a stick. According to that picture in my mind, it would be perfect. An embrace with your partner, tears of joy and utter elation that you had created life. A soft focused pretty little scenario full of rainbows and unicorns.

I didn’t see rainbows.

Our moment went more like this…..

Piss on a stick (as per numerous prior tests we had done due to my “lady problems”)

Walk away expecting, like always, for said piss to result in nothing but a bit of relief that we hadn’t miraculously gotten pregnant (and a touch of fear that maybe my lady bits were really badly broken).

Go to the kitchen, have a chat, almost forget about said piss.

Remember the piss. Go back into the bathroom.  See two little blue lines.

Have all blood leave my body and literally loose the ability to speak, function or process thought.

Somehow I made it to the kitchen to find N. Apparently I looked like some sort of catatonic tongue amputee who couldn’t breath.

I must have developed the ability to use sign language as next thing you know we are both in the bathroom, staring at a test that we had expected to go oh so differently.

Here’s where it gets emotionally quite confusing for me.  I had no idea what I felt. I knew I still couldn’t talk. Or breath. I also knew that I had never felt such terror and panic in my entire life.

As much as I had always known that one day, I wanted to be a mum, being faced with that little piss on a stick was unlike anything I have ever experienced in my life.

What do we do? We both asked each other when I finally found my tongue again. Neither of us had an answer. There were no tears. There was no romance. There was nothing but utter, primal terror. I think. I’m still not quite sure what to call that emotion.

I do know though, what it was not. It was not what I had envisaged it would be.

It makes me want a refund. I want to have that moment again. This time with tears of happiness and romance and utter elation. And a rainbow… a rainbow would be lovely.

But I cant. That was our moment. Thist is our story. Its not perfect or romantic., but its honest, and real.

I’m sure I’m not alone. I’m sure there are plenty of women out there who didn’t experience that fairy tale feeling about 3 minutes after pissing on a stick.

Personally, I think we should be honest about it. As awful as it sounds. This is scary really shit. For me, that day about 4 months ago was just the start of it.  I may have found my tongue and slowly learnt to breath again but that panic and sheer terror is still definitely there, every single day.

Maybe that’s what my journey to being a mum is going to be. Mostly terror and panic. With the odd moment of reflection thrown in….

xx A