my-speck

i'm pregnant and it's going to be a rollercoaster

Antenatal classes Mark 2#. And these iron tablets do really make me farty. April 10, 2009

Filed under: baby stuff,birthing,cooking,dreams,emotion,healthcare — rakster @ 10:33 am
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Hi Speck,

Its Easter friday!  Yay for holidays.  I’m baking almond and chocolate friands to take to your Grandma K’s for an easter get together.  Your dad is doing his usual interfering and telling me my oven is too hot (despite the fact I’ve never seen him cook any cake except cheesecake in his life).  He’s just a know-all.

almond chocolate friands

almond chocolate friands

So.  Last night was antenatal classes Mark 2.  This time with a midwife instead of with a physio.  Actually learnt a lot.  Which was good – the time went quickly rather than slowly.  The class was about introducing us to the three stages of labour, and talking about when we should think about phoning the birthing ward to come to hospital.  We had a tour of a birthing suite and watched a few videos of babies being born.  Lots of things to think about. I cried watching the videos.  I’m still really emotional and I got a bit scared and excited and happy all at the same time.  Luckily I was at the back of the room so it was only your dad, the couple beside me and the midwife who noticed tears streaming down my cheeks.  Its strange to not have any real idea what is going to happen to you and how you will cope, and not have much control over it all.  It could all go smoothly and then we get to choose some things, or it could all go a bit not as expected in which case we relinquish control to a bunch of health-care professionals.  I could just lose it and go crazy in the middle of it all.  Who knows.  Maybe I’ll get to transition stage and just be adamant that I’m going to pack up and go home and pretend there is no baby business happening at all.

Anyway, I’m glad I took a notebook, as everyone had lots of questions and the class was good in that it was relatively unstructured and the midwife was thorough in her answers.  I wrote down a bunch of things I wanted to find out more about; things to ask and talk to our obstetrician about (gee, who knew that some of them still want you to get up onto the bed and be prone when you’re actually pushing the baby out in the second stage – I thought things had moved on – maybe not – gee I hope ours lets us do it however feels best for me); things for your dad and I to decide (do you need a vitamin K injection and Hep B as soon as you’re born?); and just general stuff that I thought I’d forget.   We walked to the hospital again but it was raining on the way home so we taxied.  May have to rethink the walking to the hospital idea just ’cause your dad will be in charge of bringing all the stuff along.  But maybe we can still do it just with our birthing bag, and someone can bring the rest later?  Mmm..   Anyway, I think the most important things to remember from the class was the phone number of the birth suite and basically if you get any body fluids happening then phone them.  Got it.  Phone them.  Your dad put the number in his phone.  Hopefully he can find his phone when the time comes.  I might just write the number on the whiteboard too.

When we got home we had a chat about some of the things they talked about at the hospital.  I think both of us think that since we’re so close (literally 10 minutes walk) that we don’t have to worry about traffic or anything, so we should be ok to stay at home if everything is going well for quite a while.   Yes, the hospital is brand new and the rooms are big and spacious, and pretty nice, but its still a hospital with linoleum floors and unnatural lighting and lots of equipment and not much to look at.   I think if we are in first stage of labour for a long time it would be much nicer to be at home if we’re comfortable with that.  We can have whoever we like there, we have our own creature comforts, and there is more to do and look at.   But, who knows.  We may panic in the throws of pain and think its all happening much faster than it is, or be uncomfortable at home, and then just trip on in really early.

Yep, so of course I dreamed about you arriving again last night.  This time it was more focussed on your birth.  I was on all fours on the ground a lot, near a hand-wash basin for some reason, during a lot of the labour.  It was kinda painful but rhythmic.  I remember thinking oh, there it goes again and feeling it just going of its own accord.  Then I was squatting on the side of a chair and you came out, all slimey and red and with a lot of white vernix all over you.  You had blackish hair plastered to your head, but not too much, just some.    Your head was squished and a bit oblong.  And this time you were a boy and I definitely sighted your genitalia.   For some reason when you were born I actually forgot to see if you were a boy or a girl and I remember asking people a few minutes later and they were all surprised I hadn’t worked out or checked that you were a boy already.  I remember just being glad that you were out and you were healthy.

This dream went on and on and on.  I woke up and one point and I’m pretty sure I told your dad about it then went back to sleep and continued on with the same dream.  Until you woke me at 6:30 with some strong stomach pounding.

Going to get non-burnt friands from oven and go for morning tea.

Love you

mum

P.s. Oh yeah, side effect of these iron tablets seem to be even worse gas than I had previously.  I read a bit on the web and there are a bunch of women on forums who say this has happened to them too.  And some of them say the smell is really bad.  I haven’t noticed that yet thankfully, but it means I have to be very careful.  I was like a ticking time bomb during the antenatal classes.  I didn’t make it out of the room a few times and let loose big loud ones.  The tour of the hospital and where to park was a good diversion as we were outside and I could lag behind the group.  But sitting still and watching videos as I felt like I might float out of my chair was trying.  Your dad was peeing himself with laughter and kept telling me to go to the toilet (again, helpful if you know you need to fart but they come on very quickly and are very large and frequent.  So I would be like a yo-you back and forth.  My policy is hold them in and then do it all at once in the toilet).

 

yay! No gestational diabetes for me. Tonight after exercise class I’m going to celebrate with cashew toffee ice cream. April 8, 2009

Filed under: cooking,eating,emotion,healthcare,pregnancy — rakster @ 2:48 pm
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Hello Speck!

Lunch time.  You’ve just made your presence felt once again – you seem to get annoyed by the consumption of food – like it impinges on your space so you have to make your displeasure known by giving a few big solid movements around the stomach and lung/rib area.  I played a game with you and grabbed your little bottom and foot again.  You moved around, so I did it again.  It makes me pee myself with laughter.  It feels really strange when you’re doing ‘tent pose’ and you move around, and your dad can see it from the outside, and I can see and feel it.  You generally like it when I laugh too, and go back to sleep for a bit, so it works out for all of us.

Good news – I don’t have gestational diabetes.  My base level was 4.2 and my 2hour level was 6.2, which is ‘excellent’ according to the endocrinologist.  I’ve read some more about it, and the accepted cut-off levels in Australia recommended by Ranzcog are fasting >5.5 & 2hr >8.0. So I’m well within. Yay.  No carb-cutting diet restrictive practices required.  My iron levels however, are low.  So I’m going to start iron supplements today.  I’ve been tested earlier in the pregnancy for Iron, so I know I’ve been fine most of the time, but I have read that around 28 weeks the level of your growth kicks in again and thus lower iron is common (and apparently this growth-spurt in you can also have links to grumpiness in me – which tallies).  Anyway, I was hoping to avoid iron tablets ’cause they have some nasty side-effects, but I guess it has to be done.

P.S.  I think we will be making cashew toffee ice cream tonight to celebrate after pregnancy physio exercise classes are done.

Love you

mum

 

glucose tests aren't fun and helpful advice from the local greek blood-testing community April 7, 2009

Filed under: baby stuff,healthcare,pregnancy — rakster @ 9:50 am
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Hello Speck!

You’re bum-up this morning. Your dad says good morning or has a chat most days and he has a bit of a feel to see where you are, and it seems like your bum was right above my belly button, just to my right this morning. So a slightly different position to normal, as your head was to the left rather than the right. But you’re still sleeping as yet.

Feeling pretty good today. I had the dreaded glucose test yesterday, and it wasn’t pleasant, as expected. For some reason the endocrinologist wanted me to do the full two-hour test right off the bat, so it involves waking up in the morning, not eating and then traipsing off to the blood collection centre for two and a half hours. I went down to Annerley.

As there are a bunch of tests that you need to take when you’re fasting, it was peak-hour down there, and the local greek community was out in force. I caused a bit of a rucus as although I arrived fourth in queue, as I had an appointment, they slotted me in second. Between the old greek man who was really impatient and in a hurry, and his wife, who was quite happy to gossip and chat. There was a bit of confusion as the lady behind the counter had to explain what I was there for and why I was going first. So, all my medical history in the open, it was time for the opinions and advice to flow. Interrupted of course by short stints while everyone had their blood taken (including me), but carried on seamlessly between these interruptions. So, apparently: I look healthy; I am having a boy, because I’m all out in front, and other things that I’ve forgotten again; I’m lucky that I don’t have red swelling and pigmentation around my ankles, don’t you know that some of the women there had it and it just never went away (close inspection and umming and ahhing required at this point); its unusual that I don’t have the linea nigrea (or the black line of hair or whatever it is between my navel and pubis) – but I do have very white skin, so perhaps that’s ok (luckily no-one wanted to inspect my navel to verify my claims here); oh, and the book you have to buy is “women’s weekly food for kids” or something like that which tells you what to feed your baby up to the age of kindy, even including birthday cakes to age five (my son – presumably now a man in his forties – still loves his broccoli and everyone asks me how I did it – you just start at an early age); the general consensus is that glucose tests are stupid and make you feel very sick, apparently you can fake it by just drinking a coke and then having the test; and overall I just need good luck. Oh, and the last helpful piece of advice: now, when you are at home with your baby and your husband, everyone will have some advice for you, so make sure you don’t offend them, and listen, but you just do what you think is the best thing, won’t you now… 🙂 This all in a combination of English with simultaneous translation and broadcast into Greek for two of the older women there whose English wasn’t up to the banter.

That was the highlight of the morning. After I actually gave the blood and drank the approx 500ml of glucose solution (which tasted much like five lemonades packed into a single can) I was fine for about half an hour. After which point the nausea kicked-in and I felt alternately like vomiting or pooing for the next hour and a half. And as the collection place was so small, there were only two collection ‘rooms’ and a bed only in one. And I was allowed one glass of water to sip for the whole time. I managed to get into the bed for a while after the waiting room cleared, but all in all sitting in a hard seat in a dingy little reception area while waiting for two hours to pass and feeling like death warmed up just really isn’t my idea of fun. All for you, baby. So now its just a wait for the results, which might take until tomorrow.

Hope its all good. As I said, today is great, no tests and I feel fine! I start antenatal active-birthing yoga tonight. Heard mixed reports about the place I’m going – sounds like it will be a little too chakra-centred for my usual preferred style, but looking forward meeting some women in the area who are due around the same time…

Love you
mum

 

Antenatal classes mark one April 3, 2009

Filed under: birthing,development stages,dreams,exercise,healthcare,pregnancy — rakster @ 9:47 am
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Hello there speck,

Hope you’re sleeping well…. I certainly didn’t. My maternity pillow certainly helped, but all in all it was a horrible night. I tossed and turned (albeit not with the speed and ease I’m used to) all night, kept awake by a plethora of exciting things: back pain, the nightly possum migration from the neighbours to our house and visa versa via the window awning directly beside our bed, pubic symphysis pain, and a rowdy and recurring bat fight presumably in a fruit tree nearby. Yippee!

Your dad and I walked up to the first of six antenatal classes at the hospital last night. It was a manageable walk, we were both thinking that when the time comes it might be easier to walk to the hospital than drive. That said, I’m glad we have five more antenatal sessions to get to: your dad is directionally challenged at the best of times, and I can forsee him getting me to the oncology ward instead of the mother’s hospital unless he gets to practice how to get there at least a few more times…

The class itself was kinda funny.  It would be really hard to pitch a class like that to such a mixed audience – it was the “changes in your body” or something like that class, run by a phsyio.  Essentially we talked about some of the obvious changes that can happen to your body, and did some exercises to stretch our pelvises and relax and stuff like that.  All pretty straight-forward, and if you hadn’t worked it out by this point in the pregnancy you’d have to have had your head under a blanket pretending you weren’t pregnant.   There were about eight couples in the class, ranging from 25 to 31 weeks pregnant.    We practiced getting in and out of bed and picking a baby from the floor and putting it on a bed and picking it up again.  You were played by a big white hospital pillow.  Well acted.  While it was ok, I’m looking forward to the bit run by the midwives where we get to see the birthing suites and talk through more about baby stuff and less about pubis bones.  I think that will be more relevant to me.

Had another appointment at the obstetrician today.  I’ve hit a new milestone in the weight department.  Yippee again.  Still walking / cycling / yoga or something nearly everyday, but I guess I’m eating more than normal too.  Oh well.  Have a glucose test and a bunch more blood things scheduled for Monday, so hopefully that will prove that I’m all ok and just a bit fat (i.e. not diabetic or anything).   Not much to report from the obstetrician, all he did was ask if I was ok, at which point I burst into tears, and then he hustled me in to take blood pressure and hear your heartbeat.  My blood pressure is all good.  And your heartbeat was a bit irregular but we poked you and it went back to fast again.  Apparently its normal for your heartbeat to change speed a lot, often as I change position etc.  He also palpitated my uterus and your head is pointing down where it should be.  Which I knew already as your kicking my ribs on the bus on the way in indicated where you were quite clearly.

Otherwise. Starting to think more seriously about the fact that you’ll need a name.  Your dad and I have  a few options that we’ve come up with, and one or two we even like.  I guess though we need to ponder some more.  And see you.

Keep safe.

love mum

p.s. last night in between anxiety attacks and nightmares consisting of work and family-related melodramas, I dreamt that you were born, but that somehow there were four of you.  I was trying to leave the hospital and having difficulty working out how to get four babies home.  My dad (your grandad) and my mum (your grandma K) were both there.  I remember I just kept saying over and over to your grandad, “I don’t understand.  There was only ever one when they did the scans.  Where did the other ones come from?”.  He just shrugged and continued to try to help collect you all…

 

windscreen washing the inside of my uterus March 11, 2009

Filed under: baby's feelings,birthing,development stages,exhaustion,healthcare,pregnancy — rakster @ 9:11 am
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Hello Little Round Ball (’cause there is no way you are a speck anymore, its a round ball down in there…  you’re still my Speck, but your house is shaped more like a ball),

how are you?  I’m tired again.  Exhausted in fact.  Yes, I know I’m commuting Sydney-Brisbane, and that is a bit tiring, but I’m disproportionally tired.  It started last week.  The weekend was good but I could barely keep my eyes open at night.  We went to G&Ks for a barbeque on Friday night and it was only 8:15pm when I had to leave and go home – I was going to fall asleep at the table.

You on the other hand have been moving around like you’re in an aerobics championship.   You’ve got some new moves too – they started on Saturday.  Lying in bed on Saturday morning I noticed something different.   You now do big sweeping movements with feet and or hands – right across my belly.  If you can think of someone washing the inside of a car windscreen with big round movements, that’s what it feels like you’re doing.  Lots of that and less of the one-off kicking.  It feels pretty freaky to be honest.  It just lasts so long.  I think the short sharp kicks were easier to deal with.  And you’re definitely growing at a rapid rate, as now when I feel you moving around – I feel as though I can tell where your head, legs and arms are pretty often.  And every time you’re wiggling about and doing tumble turns.  Which is frequently.

I couldn’t sleep last night.  After a while, you woke up too and started to do the calesthenics.  You kick really hard now – if I’m looking at my stomach I think I can almost see where your foot pokes the stomach out.  Anyway, I figured that I may as well practice ‘training you in acrobatics’ for fun, like the girl I work with is going to do with her baby.  I thought it was a bit of a joke, but pushed just where you had kicked, and then you thumped back even harder than the first time.  I moved my fingers a few cm along my stomach from where the original kick was and pushed again, and, surprise, you moved and kicked back in the new position.  Funny.  I did it a few times after which you settled down again.   I then gave you a massage, which you seemed to like.  I’m starting to feel now that you’re really a little person in there.  Before you were just a ‘baby’.  Some kind of growing blob.  Now you are starting to feel more and more real.   I had a chat to you last night while massaging and I was wondering what you were thinking.  ‘Cause I think you’re thinking now.  I wish you’re Dad could feel these changes in you too – I think its definitely part of the ‘mum’ gets used to baby coming along part of being pregnant for nine months.  Last night you felt like a boy to me.  A month ago while walking home one night I had a premonition that you were a girl.   So, I obviously don’t know.

We went and met your obstetrician in Brisbane last Friday.  He is very relaxed.  He told me to eat anything, just avoid bungee jumping and advised not to take up heroin at this point.   I think I can manage that.  Your dad and I were surprised when we looked at the chart to see how big you are now.  No wonder I can feel you – you’re much bigger than a coke can (which is where I thought you were at).  I guess you won’t know him, but be reassured he is a very amicable person who seems supportive of what we want to do in the birth.  He is apparently well-known for only intervening and doing a c-section if absolutely necessary – chatting to him about this made me feel like he would be the right person to help us along.  I still wish to some extent that the model of care offered in Australia was more flexible though – while I like him, I’d also like for us to be able to choose our own midwife to come along and be there before, during and after your birth.  That’s not an option with the way the hospitals and medical system works today.  Which I think is a travesty.   But, ce la vie.   I guess you take what you can get and make what you will with it.  Hopefully your Dad and I will cope regardless.  As the doctor emphasised, the birth is going to be the ‘easy’ bit in retrospect.  Yep, it will be hard, and stressful, and most likely hurt a lot, but it will be over pretty quickly.  Wheras you’ll be with us for a long time afterwards.  To worry about forever more.

kisses
mum.

 

Reflux: the latest ailment February 21, 2009

Filed under: eating,healthcare,pregnancy — rakster @ 2:21 pm
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Hiya Speck,

Hope you’re doing well. Your Dad and I are well, feeling thoroughly relaxed. I’m not ready to go back to work on Monday though :(.

We’re sitting in Queenstown airport waiting for our plane to Christchurch to come. We had a great time last night at the wedding and also had a relaxed day with J & J wandering through Queenstown and around the lake today. It’s always a bit sad how quickly the end of a holiday comes around.

So, what is new with you? Well, not much really! I trust you’re still growing away down there, getting bigger and bigger. I know you are as my latest ailment is gastric reflux, otherwise known as indigestion. Which means that you’ve now decided to encroach on the area of my internal body cavity housing an organ dear to my heart (yep, hanging out with your dad for days, I’ve caught the bad joke virus): my stomach. Damn damn damn, less food, more frequent eating and little antacid tablets will be the order of the day from now on.

Night times and attempting to sleep is when it is at it’s worst, waking me up and forcing me to eat a tablet or two to assuage the rising bile. Erk!

But otherwise all quiet on the Speck front.

Love you
Mum

 

 

The birthing suite experience – Fawlty Towers couldn't have done it better… February 16, 2009

Filed under: birthing,emotion,healthcare,pregnancy — rakster @ 4:06 pm
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Hi Speck,

So, your dad doesn’t want me to write about this, because he thinks that it might worry people (who read my letters to you) unnecessarily. I think though, on reflection, that it’s part of being pregnant and I want to tell you about it. And there were some funny moments.

We had planned to get to Dunedin yesterday and catch up with J & J for the afternoon, which, especially as we haven’t seen them at length in a coupla years, we were both looking forward to.   But it didn’t quite work out that way. We got an extended stay in one of the birthing suites at Dunedin’s hospital, St Mary’s, instead. I wanted to take photos at the time but your dad was pretty stressed out and didn’t want me to, so no pictures for you, just the story.

I had a little bit of bleeding which started on Saturday afternoon. It wasn’t a massive amount, so I wasn’t worried about it, as I’ve read that lots of women get bleeding sometimes during their pregnancies.  And I read a forum that people who are due in the same two weeks as me post on, and lots of them have had bleeding episodes, and so I know its pretty common and usually, once you’re past week 12 or so, works out fine.   Since you’re now 21 weeks closer to joining us than when you were first being prepared by my body as a little polyp waiting to burst forth into an egg, I wasn’t too concerned cause you’ve got yourself well settled and my last scan showed that my placenta was anterior and more importantly, high; also, my cervix was shown as fully closed.   Apparently the placenta being low and having bleeding is generally more of a worry.   But, you have a good spot, which is important, and I knew that so wasn’t too worried.

Went to bed on Saturday night and felt fine, so all good. But by Sunday afternoon, after flying from Christchurch to Dunedin and getting to our hotel, I was still bleeding a little and a little bit worried. I was feeling perfectly healthy and hadn’t had any cramping, sickness or other bad signs, but your dad and I just wanted to check, especially as we were planning on heading off on a cycling trip on Monday. We both thought that getting on bikes and heading into the NZ Central Otago region where there aren’t too many doctors was perhaps best done after we got some medical advice.

We thus tramped through Dunedin to the 24hr medical clinic, where we didn’t have to wait long before we were seen by an absolutely lovely and thorough female GP. She took a history and read the little pregnancy history card that I now carry with me everywhere. After a quick external feel of my uterus (which by the way she said was ‘a cute little shape – sticks right out and is very round like you swallowed a ball’), she got the little ultrasoundy/doppler machine going and checked your heartbeat. Which was, as expected, all normal and good.   Again, she explained this was a good sign as you weren’t distressed or worried about what was happening.  She then phoned the hospital and had a chat to the obs registrar, who suggested we should come in for a check. Which is how we ended up in a birthing suite at Dunedin’s hospital.

St Mary’s has a number of birthing suites, a few of which were occupied with women, who, from the sounds we could hear, were in various stages of labour.   We were put in one at the end of the ward.  A big room decorated in hospital green and more green.  With a shower and toilet, a single hospital bed and a couch.  The furniture was dwarfed by the size of the room.   Clean but old.   I had a bit of a cry at that point, as that’s when it became pretty real to me that something might be wrong.   I was ok before that, it just hit me for a few minutes.  After a quick cry I was feeling better again.   But hungry as we had missed lunch.   Your dad thankfully managed to get to the cafeteria and back before the midwife looking after us made it in. Thankfully because after asking us a few questions she immediately placed us under ‘quarantine’.   Apparently the South island of New Zealand and St Mary’s are the only places on Earth where the superbug MRSA (or something like that) hasn’t yet reached.  And as I’ve been admitted to hospital in Australia in the past six months, until proven that I don’t harbour the bug I need to be quarantined… So quarantining meant that the door was shut, no-one allowed to visit (small chance of that anyway), and any medical staff having to be gowned and gloved in disposable plastic stuff before they came in the room. A bit novel. I then had to swab a bunch of my orifices so they could test them for said superbug.   Your dad got quarantined with me.

Again, as there are no photos, you’ll have to picture it.  Me and your dad in a big green hospital room.  For hours.  Waiting for the doctors to be free.  Apparently there were some births with complications (twins and other stuff) happening.   We had our books and a yahtzee game, so we passed the time ok.    But the door was closed and we weren’t allowed out.   And there were some interesting noises coming from the other rooms.  I use ‘interesting’ in a broad sense.   More like very loud distressing screaming at regular intervals.  It kinda freaked me out but I was strangely calm at the same time.   Your dad listened intently, then remarked, “She’s doing it wrong.  According to the Janet Balaskas Active Birthing book you’re supposed to work WITH the pain.  Not against it.”  Ha.  On one hand I was pleased – he’s obviously read the book from cover to cover (which is good cause I asked him to and it might help when you come).   On the other hand, if he says anything like that to me when I’m trying to get you out I suspect I will try to deck him.

After a while a nurse came and took some blood to go and test to make sure your blood wasn’t in my blood, or something like that (protein testing); and some other things.  I forget.  She missed my vein and was really bad at it.  But nice in person.   I coped.   I would have passed out from that a few months ago, but the common taking blood thing is starting to make me slightly more used to it.  She went away.  After a few hours, the intern doctor on rotation came to take my medical history.   She was obviously new, and not an obstetrics person, ’cause she asked some funny things and didn’t know stuff like that you can tell which ovary the baby comes from if you get an early ultrasound (you came from the right).

When the doctor finally arrived, she was a lovely but slightly distracted-seeming woman who had obviously had a long day.  The intern was in-tow.   And what followed was what I’d write as a comedy skit about obstetricians if I were to write one.  Picture two doctors, both of whom are distracted and keep forgetting they are supposed to be in quarantine.   There were at least 9 changes of gloves for the main doctor as she starts to examine me, then changes to surgical gloves,  changes back to non-surgical gloves, thows them, forgets new ones, swears when she remembers, gets new gloves, throws gloves as she thinks she’s finished, then I remind her that she told me she was going to do ‘x’, she recalls, forgets gloves, swears, gets new gloves.  Repeat repeat repeat.   Add to the distraction a non-functioning or poorly functioning light.  Picture me on bed with legs up and two doctors crawling around on floor trying to peer up my fanny:   Main Doctor:  “well, this light is terrible. Can’t see a thing.  Can you see anything?”;  Intern:  “no, can’t see anything”. Etcetera.   I felt like I was in a Fawlty Towers episode:  “Visit to the doctor”.  Me trying to breathe cause it was a bit painful, but at the same time almost having an out of body experience when I can see how comical the situation is if it weren’t so serious.  Your dad alternately trying to comfort me and not be alarmed at the circus going on at the bottom of the bed.

After a lot of gloves, a lot of discussion and lots of feeling around, we determined that we had no idea where the blood was coming from but there didn’t seem to be too much.  We had a look at you on the ultrasound and you looked happy and good, and again your heartbeat was fine, as was my bloodpressure etc.  And my cervix was still sealed.   Did a little test which looked a bit like a litmus test on a long cottonbud which indicated that there was no amniotic fluid leaking out.  A good thing, cause the doctor explained that the hospital had a policy of non-intervention if you decided to come along early before the week 24 mark.   Which didn’t give you much of a chance if that was what was happening.  So amniotic fluid would have been bad.  But there wasn’t any.   And the blood was slowing.

Didn’t ever find out if I had the superbug as those tests didn’t come back before I was finally discharged.   Doctor said all was good, just probably a bit of random bleeding, which is pretty common.   She said that the bike riding wouldn’t affect it or worsen it at all, but of course if anything happened to come back into the hospital if needed.  And whatever they did seemed to make it stop.

So, your and my first birthing suite experience.  Hopefully no more until you actually join us.  Though we could make like a general tour of hospitals around Australia and NZ and do a comparative review….

love you.  we’re glad you’re ok.

mum

 

Topsy Turvy February 7, 2009

Filed under: baby's feelings,birthing,development stages,healthcare,pregnancy — rakster @ 8:38 am
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Hi Speck,

well, I don’t need to say good morning, as you have been kicking away down there like mad, so I know you’re awake, and you’ve already said hello. You’re moving around so much now that in an active period, when you put a hand on my stomach it just feels like there is something moving around, even if you’re not kicking directly. Your dad attempted to tap tap to get you to respond today. One of the women I work with has told me that they are going to teach their baby while it is still in-utero – apparently different training if its a boy or a girl – things like acrobatic skills and music and counting. I’m unclear how the counting was supposed to work. It sounded a little wacky to me – something about visualing the number and the same number of an object, and your baby understanding that. Maybe I misunderstood? But the acrobatics was a little clearer: as you get bigger and kick, we tap the outside of my belly and get you to respond. We then train you to move around the belly responding to the tapping. Still, a little far-fetched for me, but what the hell, we might give it a go. Could be fun.

And you’re moving around a lot, not just kicking, just like Kaz said you would. Loop the loops, topsy turvy. Sometimes you’re down there marching on my bladder, and lately you’ve been trying to kick me up in the stomach. And I think you are trying to make more room by pushing my uterus up past my belly button. Which, by the way, is apparently where it is at now, according to the obstetrician yesterday. All very normal. Soon its going to get higher than that and I suppose, eating bigs meals will end entirely and the yoga breathing I have been practising will really come into its own. Here’s hoping. I can now fill up different parts of my lungs a lot more independently on demand. So making space when my organs start to push up on my lungs a bit more. I’m still struggling with the using my diaphgram and breathing in by pushing it down while trying to pull in and tense my pelvic floor and hold at the same time. Too hard to concentrate on both. Must practice more.

Went for our last (hopefully) visit with the obstetrician in Sydney yesterday. A lot of money for a “hi, how are you feeling, lets take your blood pressure, weigh you and listen to the baby’s heartbeat for a few seconds”. But you’re well, the ultrasound technician didn’t lie on Monday when she told us that you were in the normal ranges for everything in your scan. I asked about the nose measurement. Apparently good bridge-of-the-nose development is an indicator against downs syndrome. So, yours is strong and long. My placenta is in a good spot (who knew that there were good and bad spots before they got pregnant?).. Its at the front but more importantly apparently, up-high. And my cervix is closed. Its 4cm big. So its the spot that somehow has to open and let you through when its time for you to come out. Bloody hell. How does 4cm get to 12cm (or however big it needs to get???).

Anyway, its very hot and I’m going to go and relax.

love you
mum

 

so all your bits appear to be in the right spot, you've 5 fingers and an upper arm 2.19 cm long. February 3, 2009

Filed under: development stages,healthcare,pregnancy — rakster @ 6:38 pm
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Hiya Speck!

good news – all is well with you and you have 4 chambers in your heart, a lot of blood going around in different directions in your body (and seemingly – from the technician’s comments – you importantly have it flowing on both sides of your bladder), you have a stomach, kidneys which have a lot going on, a nose, lips, mouth and fingers and toes. In fact, the scan was quite exhaustive and lots of you was measured. You are in the normal ranges for it all. Your nose bridge bit got measured (why??).. And your upper arm (humerus) was 2.19 cm long. That was the only one I managed to ask about. The rest was too quick. Its all on the last page of the video we got.

Anyway. It was a little strange to see you down there. You are much bigger than last time and you were moving around like a crazed thing. In fact, you were kicking very hard. No I know why I can feel it – it was odd, but you were kicking at the same time as the technician was checking your legs, and I could see you kicking and feel it (right on my bladder – which was full due to the scan so it was very uncomfortable) at the same time. Bit freaky. So, you kick really hard by drawing your little legs right up almost parallel with your spine (very flexible you are!) and then moving them down and extending your feet all in one big very swift movement. I.e. A huge big kick very hard and fast. So that’s what I can feel. Your dad laughed a lot. You also look like you’re sucking or attempting to suck on the area around my placenta. Photos…

Speck - you at Week 19!

Speck - you at Week 19!

Woot! Exciting. I don’t think we need any more scans, so that might be the last time we see you before you come out. You have big thighs. Round and wide at the top like mine. And you have indents on your feet like mine too. We got a photo. Maybe all babies have them? I don’t know.

Speck - its you again!

Speck - its you again!

Anyway, I love you! I am excited and your dad is too.

Your foot at 19 Weeks.

Your foot at 19 Weeks.

Keep at it! Love mum

 

you are an alien. I’m sure of it. And the obstetrician was right when he told us what you’d do when next we saw you: you performed on cue and waved at us. Double-handed! December 10, 2008

Filed under: development stages,healthcare,pregnancy — rakster @ 5:45 pm
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Hello Speccie,

good news – you are all in the normal and good range of the NT-scan results and the chances of you having one of those chromosomal abnormalities is pretty low. Your dad and I are pleased. Good for you. Still have questions and its all a bit weird to even think of, but reassuring I guess.

Otherwise – you seemed not to want to co-operate with us in getting the scan. I asked the ultrasound lady about the risks of ultrasound, well, actually I told her that we wanted to keep it to a minimum and she was very helpful & understanding with that & also reassuring. So she was efficient as she did it and just pointed out things quickly to us as she went about her measuring and checking. You were lying there and looking at the camera most of the time, scrunched up in a little ball though – curled up a bit like the way I sleep. We could see your head and your jawbone really clearly, and your legs were both there too. You have little arms, and we could see your finger bones, which are still hooked together in a web (I think we could make that out too). Weirdest of all, we could see your entire backbone with lots of little vertebrae really clearly. And through the top of your head we could see the two halves of your brain.

I also have a big placenta that has good blood flow in it to give you the nutrients you need, and a spot where you are connected through your umbilical cord. So all is good there.

After measuring your length & looking at your hands & arms & legs to make sure they were all there & looked ok, we tried to get the neck thickness reading. But you were asleep & in the wrong spot. So to get you to move around I had to lift my bum in the air & wiggle around. We tried that a few times, but you just didn’t want to move. Checked that you do have a heartbeat, and you do, 160 bpm at the moment, which is good. After wiggling my bum around a bunch of times you only seemed to shrug but stay in the same spot, so next we tried getting up and walking around the room while wiggling my bum. That seemed to work a bit – you kinda turned towards the camera & waved your arms in the air on either side – and looked so much like an alien with hollow eyes and a big brow but narrow chin coming at us with your arms waving around crazily up beside your head that your dad started doing impressions and dancing around with glee.  Sorry, no offence again, but you really do look just like an alien or the figure in Edward Munch’s ‘The Scream’.   I think the ultrasound lady was a bit surprised by my shouts of “oh my god, it looks like an alien freak – no offence speck”. After the single double-handed wave which sent both your dad & I into peals of laughter you immediately just then scrunched back up again and steadfastly refused to move.

Are you planning on a circus career?  You could go for a position in the freak show at the moment though I think that with the dexterity you displayed you have the capability to do a bunch of different things, and given your willingness to perform (but only at your choosing and only once dramatic bit) perhaps you are suited for something like that?  Or maybe you’ll just be a nude exhibitionist?? Up to you, but you showed promise in all these departments.

Next the ultrasound lady suggested that I needed to go and eat a bunch of sugar and come back in 10 minutes – apparently the effect of sugar on you down there is that immediate. She was hoping that it would wake you up and make you move around a lot so she could get a picture in the right spot of the thickness of your neck. So I went and scoffed a hot chocolate & then a caramel slice (urg, too sweet), and came back up. And, surprise, surprise, you were seemingly awake / much more active. You were moving around – doing flips and extending and contracting your legs and arms, and generally having a good swim. For about 5 minutes, after which time you tried to sleep again. The second ultrasound lady wasn’t as nice, and kept trying to poke you with the ultrasound machine, and I got fed up with her and told her to hurry up and finish. Your dad looked like he wanted to punch her. Anyway, she had managed to get one reading of your neck, which seemed fine, so we were done. After that my bloodtest results came back & the counsellor talked us through the results, and went on our way.

Your dad and I caught the bus home together and recounted to each other what it felt like to see you. He congratulated me on growing an a-ok baby until this point – but really, as I told him, its all you now I think. You should have most of your own organs and what not, so apart from nourishment etc, you’re on your own steam.

Anyway, it was good to see you, you looked relaxed and pretty comfortable down there. There seemed to be lots of room for you to grow bigger, and you seemed to be getting a bit of exercise. BTW perhaps the reason you were sleeping today is ’cause you had a pretty big work-out at frisbee last night (my back certainly knows about it today)?

so, like before, keep at the growing, you’ve got bigger but have a long way to go~

love you
mum