Nearly 11 weeks and I still appear to be pregnant - and am still scared, excited, disbelieving and a whole lot of other mixed emotions.
I have had two more scans. One fantastic one at 9 weeks, with a lovely sonographer who showed us something that looked like a baby and was moving! That was incredible! The last one, at 10 weeks, was less amazing and involved an argument with a sonographer who wanted to work out my due date, even though I'd already told her it was the 3rd of January. Despite the fact that I'd already told her it was a donor egg, she asked when my last period was, and when I reminded her that this was a bit different and that I knew what the conception date was, she asked what date the transfer was on. She was going to work back 2 weeks from transfer to my "period" - at that point (still no ultrasound going on and worried whether there might be a baby in there still) I got a bit snippy and said that I knew when conception was, I had been given a due date and could I please have an ultrasound. We both warmed up a bit as the scan got going, but it was quicker and less reassuring than the last. However, there was a baby with a heartbeat that was measuring correctly and did at least one wee wave for us.
The next scan is the 12 week one - or two. We're having one at the local hospital for official purposes and one at a private clinic for more detail and with a blood test - we want to be prepared.
We have also had our first high-risk appointments. Wow - that was fun! NOT! I showed up with protein in my wee at a level that was pretty high. Too early for pre-eclamp.sia, but since I have high blood pressure and take a range of drugs that could affect my kidneys, I was still worried. We waited for about 4 hours - one appointment was 3 hours late because I don't have the right paperwork yet. I had to change my blood pressure medication to one that is not working so well and move my anti-clotting medication by two hours every couple of days to get it to the morning rather than the evening (this means taking it to work and trying to find a private place in school that is bright enough so that I can avoid my previous bruises when I inject). Various scary discussions about all the risks I'm under - particularly pre-eclamp.sia - were also had. Not my most favourite bit of the pregnancy stuff so far. We're back there again next week for a similar length of visit and some feedback on the follow-up tests on the wee!
On a brighter note, my boss has been lovely. I have been given a class for next year that should minimise my stress and she's arranged for me not to have to move room - that'll be brilliant, not to have to pack everything up and beg other people to carry it all. She has also been incredibly accommodating of all the appointments (mind you, I have done my very best to minimise any time out) and very nice to me as a person. She told me the other day that the baby has to be my priority, not work! I am extremely grateful to have one potential source of stress removed.
My work-mates have also been incredibly kind. One colleague/friend, who struggle for a while to have her one child, even offered to help me move and set up my new room if I had to shift. Folk are always asking me if I'm OK and telling me how happy they are that it's all still going. I still feel a bit of a fraud and I still feel like I'm living on borrowed time with this pregnancy and I find myself trying to brush off any "future" questions - when will I take maternity leave, how long will I take off, what kind of birth am I planning.
One bullet I'm going to have to bite soon is the issue of clothes. Since about 6 weeks, my br.as have been on the tight side and I have put off buying any new ones. Now my trousers are getting too tight as well. My wee sister is coming up for a weekend in two weeks time and has promised to come shopping with me. By that time, I'll be past 12 weeks - hopefully - and might feel a bit more able to acknowledge all this.
My sister is coming up to say goodbye to our childhood home, where my parents have lived since I was 6 months old. They are moving out in 3 weeks time, into what my mother calls a "two-story caravan" - a modern rented house. Saying goodbye to the house that is still "home" to me - even though I haven't lived there for 23 years - is going to be really tough. I have been listening to Mir.anda Lam.bert's The House That Built Me and sobbing at the lyrics, which could have been written for me - especially the line about the back room where she did her homework and learned to play the guitar and another about her favourite dog being burried in the backyard. I'm not usually a country music fan, but I heard that song just around the time we bought the new place and it really affected me.
One funny moment from our first midwife appointment - we went through all the losses, treatments and medical issues I'd had/have and when we finally got to the end, the midwife leaned towards me and said, "Now . . . you don't have any silly ideas about a home birth, do you?". I laughed and assured her that if I was indeed going to give birth, I intended it to be in hospital with all the medical staff, equipment and drugs I could get hold of. "Oh good!" she said.
We need new words for new kinds of relatedness
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