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!