Day 9: Reinforcement has arrived

Help is here – and what a relief!

Mum and Dad arrived yesterday evening. We hadn’t told Jemima they were coming so it was a complete surprise for her. Although persuading her to go for a drive with Daddy (to pick them up from the airport) was no easy task. Not even the promise of ice cream did the trick – her response being “ ice cream isn’t healthy and I’m full.”  That girl will never cease to amaze me.

Needless to say she’s super excited to have them here. Playing with Grandpa is so much more fun than playing with Mummy on the sofa!

I have to confess I feel so much more relaxed now that Mum and Dad are here – safe in the knowledge that should I need to go to hospital there is always someone here with Jemima or on hand to pick her up from day care. And  I’m learning that a little relaxation goes a long way in these situations.

Perhaps one of the best things about Mum and Dad being here – they arrived with stacks of proper English chocolate!  2 huge bars of Cadbury’s chocolate (Dairy Milk and Fruit and Nut) and a bag of Twirls.  Lovely stuff. Sorry Hershey’s but you just don’t cut the mustard!

Day 8: Good food, good wine (not much of course!) and great company

Well after Friday’s traumas, Saturday proved to me much more peaceful.  Very few contractions (and a few are considered normal) and no cramping.

Friends of ours came over to provide much needed company, distraction and fun. And they kindly bought dinner – lasagna, salad and lots of trimmings, including Lemon Drizzle cake.  Other than providing plates and silverware we didn’t have to do a thing. It was fabulous. They have two children, who although 2 and 4 years older than my daughter, they play happily together.  We had to resolve a few rifts but nothing that shouldn’t be expected between a 3, 5 and 7 year olds. Admittedly at one point we resorted to perhaps one of the worst parenting tools – TV.  But it meant that the adults cot to eat dinner in peace which as any parent knows is a treat. And for the first time in a week, I actually sat at the table rather than eating half lying down on the sofa. Of course, I ate too much and had heartburn for a few hours but nothing new there.

Both Ben and I are truly grateful for their support and once more I’m humbled by how kind all our friends have been over the past week. THANK YOU EVERYONE

Mum and Dad arrive in a few hours. We’ve not told my daughter so we’re hoping it will be a big surprise for her.  A friend of ours has very kindly taken her out for morning so Ben finally has some time off.  I’m reclining on the sofa watching the French Open, he’s working up a sweat in the gym.  I’d rather be doing some exercise myself but bed rest is what it is, and currently I’ll settle for a few quieT months and a healthy baby over an exciting time.  they’ll be plenty of excitement for a family of four in a few months.

On the way out of hospital following the cerclage the nurse informed me that every day our baby stays inside, that’s four less days he’ll need to spend in hospital. This small statistic is giving me enormous hope and determination. We can do this and with help on its way from my family, and most likely Ben’s family in a few weeks, it will get easier.  Fingers (and legs!) crossed!)

What the hell just happened?

Day 7

Yesterday was quite an extraordinary day. And right from the early hours of the morning I knew it was going to be a tough one.

I woke at about 4am with some mild cramping. But after a trip to the bathroom it wasn't concerning me too much and I drifted back to sleep. But when I woke at 6am it was worse and deep down I knew this wasn't good. By 7:30 my husband and I had resigned ourselves that much of the day was likely to be spent in hospital. I felt terrible - emotionally, more than physically. With Memorial weekend ahead, Ben had decided to take Friday off work so he could have some time to himself, catch up on chores and do a much needed workout at the gym. I was robbing him of this luxury - and after a week of me being on bed rest this was considered a luxury, and one that he's been looking forward to all week.

And so it was at approx. 9:30 am that we made our way to Labor and Delivery under instructions of my doctor. On arrival, our worlds fell apart - again. This time they put me straight into a delivery room which immediately alarmed me. Minutes later the nurse casually declared we were having a baby and a team of neo-natal nurses, complete with incubators, had arrived. In short, nothing more than a hurricane was passing through our room. And all this before my doctor, who thankfully was doing her rounds on the ward, had assessed me. They were in panic mode, I was in tears, Ben was in shock and disbelief. It was horrible. I'm currently only at 24 weeks and in my limited time on bed rest I've done enough research to know that the odds of having a successful delivery and a healthy baby at this stage are not great. Yes modern medicine is a wonderful thing and miracles do happen but nature is ultimately in control.

But thankfully my doctor saw sense and quickly established calm among her team, dispatching the incubator which gave both me and my husband a sense of calm. The fear begin to subside. A thorough assessment of my symptoms and an internal examination demonstrated that imminent delivery was unlikely. I was hooked up on the monitor and although the cramps remained, although lessened, I was not contracting, or dilated. Things were looking more positive. An internal ultrasound a few hours later revealed no change in my cervix and we all breathed a sigh of relief. By 6pm we were at home, having picked up daughter from day care, and our lives seemed to have returned to normal, or at least relative normality.

But I learned something from this day. I learned that I'd rather play safe and go the hospital only be sent home under false alarm than wait it out at home. On leaving my nurse told us a story about a woman, who at 27 weeks spent two hours straining on the toilet to do a poo. Instead she had a baby.

I learned that I have utter faith, confidence and trust in my OB and my fetal specialist. And I learned that although the reaction from the nurses was perhaps unnecessary and insensitive at times, I'm glad they were prepared right from the start, rather than taking a wait and see approach. As a result, I have increased belief that this pregnancy, although difficult, will be OK.

Why am I doing this?

When I told my husband I was going to begin writing a blog about my bed rest experience he laughed uncontrollably. And quite naturally asked the following questions:

• Was I prepared to have it publicly available? YES
• Would I actively promote it? PROBABLY NOT
• Would I encourage my friends and family to read it? POSSIBLY - ONCE I'D GOT IT TO A STAGE THAT I WAS COMFORTABLE WITH IT
• Am I expecting any avid followers? CERTAINLY NOT
• Am I expecting / intending the content to be of interest to anyone but me? PROBABLY NOT
• Do I care if anyone else reads it? ABSOLUTELY NOT
• Will it be funny? I SERIOUSLY DOUBT IT - HUMOUR IS NOT MY STRONG POINT

Considering the answers to the above, he advised this isn't really a blog, but instead a diary. So why don't I stick to traditional pen and paper or MS Word? Well, the answer to pen and paper is easy - it's not that easy to write well when you're half lying down/ lying on your side. And as for MS Word, well that made it feel like a book and this is not a book. Instead it's exactly what it says on the can - the ramblings of a mum on bed rest. And so an online blog felt like the most natural, and convenient media for it.

I guess it's my version of a diary so I have this experience, the good and the bad, the highs and the lows, officially documented. It's my emotional outlet. After all, there are only so many tears a girl can shed, so many shoulders you can cry on and so many emotions you can communicate verbally. And as anyone who's ever been through pregnancy bed rest knows, this a complete emotional roller coaster. And it's a way of passing time and getting through the day without resorting to too much daytime TV.

So that's my logic for doing this. Read it if you won't, ignore it if you don't. Whether you like it or hate it, or whatever thoughts you have about it, remember I'm not doing this for my audience. I'm not doing it to communicate any hard held beliefs or opinions. I'm doing it for me - and my sanity.

So I knew from the beginning that this pregnancy wasn’t going to be an easy one. Right from the get go it felt so much harder than my pregnancy with my daughter 4 years ago which thankfully was very uneventful. From the very early weeks I was much more aware of a bump even before there was a bump to speak of and was getting breathless following walking up stairs and doing the laundry by about 14 weeks. I was hoping it was just because I was four years older and chasing round after a 3 ½ year old but my instinct was telling me that this pregnancy was not going to easy. But I wasn’t expecting it to be this hard.

Like all couples, my husband and I went to our 20 week with some fear that something could be wrong. Sadly the devastating experiences of some of my friends has taught me that this vital scan is more than an opportunity to get a second glimpse of your child growing inside of you but is instead a 360 health check. We were relieved to hear the sonographers reassuring words that the baby was doing great. So our worlds fell apart when we were informed that the doctor would be in to talk to us shortly and do further scans to check out my cervix.

20 minutes later the diagnosis was an incompetent cervix – clearly a term devised by a man generations ago with little understanding of how hormonal women would interpret it. I’d basically just been told that although my baby was fine, my body was potentially incapable of sustaining this pregnancy.

In layman’s terms an incompetent cervix is a short cervix. It should be about 4cm, but at 20 weeks mine was just 2 putting me at increased risk of pre-term labor. I was instructed to take it easy aka no chores or housework (0k there was a potential upside), rest as much as possible and report back for regular check ups.

The next three weeks passed uneventfully, or at least as far as my incompetent cervix was concerned. My valiant hubby stepped up to the mark taking over the cooking, the cleaning, the laundry, and the daily pick up of my daughter from day care. In return I rescheduled my calendar to be working from home at least 2 days a week and at other times in between, and simplified many areas of our lives – arranging pick up/drop off dry cleaning service, increasing our housecleaning to weekly rather than bi-weekly and venturing into the world of online grocery shopping. We had a pretty good rhythm going and I have to confess to feeling a lot better.

And so it was that that I merrily went for a regular check up expecting to be told that a cerclage was not necessary and my cervix was holding up nicely. My doctor returned this salutation with the news that whilst I might be feeling fine, my cervix wasn’t. It was now only 1cm and a rescue cerclage was the only option. Although it came with a 20% chance of miscarriage, without it that was almost inevitable within a few weeks.

For the first time in my life, outside of delivering my daughter (which incidentally took just 2 hours and no drugs) I found myself in hospital and was being pumped with a hideous amount of magnesium sulphate and pre-operative antibiotics via an IV. Less than 24 hours I was out of surgery which so far has been a success and the baby is doing great. The next few hours passed in a haze of nausea, fear and worry as I felt contractions continue. Finally the Magnesium sulphate was stopped and after 12 hours of some uterine irritation but no contractions I was discharged – on one condition. That I remained on bed rest for the next four weeks at least.

And so it is that I find myself on bed rest and for the first time ever proactively reaching out to friends and family for support. Having been a doer all my life, I am now the helpee rather than the helper.

Day 3:
- 1 Raspberry yogurt
- Half a pack of Ritz crackers
- 2 prunes
- 1 cheese & ham sandwich
- 2 chocolate chip cookies
- 2 really bad movies – Derailed and Valentine’s Day
- 1 bunch of beautiful flowers – sender unknown
- 1 call from work
- Too many visits to Facebook
- 2 outbursts of tears

I’m an emotional wreck. The realization of what bed rest entails is sinking in. As summer looms round the corner I’m faced with trips from my bed to the bathroom to my sofa and back again whilst the world around me goes about their daily business. Someone need only look at me with a sympathetic smile, send an email containing kind supportive words and I start to blub.

Day 4:
- Contractions –too many but not enough to call the doctor
- Visitors: 2
- Meals provided: 1 (Pizza – yummy. Thanks Heather)
- No. of times I’ve cried: None. A good day for emotions
- Phone calls: 1 from Australia
- Text messages: lots
- Starbucks Lattes:1 Non-fat, decaf of course (so why bother?)
- Bunches of flowers: 2

Day 5:
- No of emails: 9, 7 of them junk
- No. of times I’ve cried: 1 and it’s not even 9am

Today, I’m strangely excited about a visit to the doctors to check the cerclage. Yes it’s a chance to see if everything is doing what it should but sadly I think the main excitement is due to the fact that it will be first time I’ve been outside in 5 days.

Day 5 PM
Good news. The cerclage is holding up and all is looking like it should. The specialist doesn’t want to see me for another 2 weeks. It’s early days yet but she’s cautiously optimistic.
Spent a few hours watching the French Open. Saw Venus Williams wearing a totally inappropriate outfit – looks more like a black and lace cheap teddy from Ann Summers. Apparently it uses some sort of invisibility shield but if you ask me she’s just showing her butt. Come on Venus - we want to see your great tennis not your unmentionables!