Rainbow Baby

Birth Story

2011-03-07T14:23:00.000+11:00

On the 11th of April 2008, Kelvin and I decided it was time to have another baby.
It was the 21st of February 2011 until we got one.
After 13 months of unsuccessful attempts at conception, we sought help, and found that I had adhesions in my uterus. One quick procedure, and they were gone. I fell pregnant with Sybella within 2 cycles. Sybella died. The most unfair thing about her death, apart from her being a beautiful little girl who never had a chance at life, was that she was so desperately wanted. We wanted her so badly, we dreamed about her and loved her. Some people are unhappy about their pregnancies, they do all the "wrong" things throughout, or they may terminate. I am not judging, because I never know anyone's personal circumstances, but to work so hard to get your baby and have her taken...well, it made me want to lob my shoe at the drug addict/negelctful/abusive mothers.
Another 9 long months, and we finally held our longed for baby...not without his own hiccups, of course. Who would we be without soap opera drama surrounding us? When it comes to our kids, there seems to be no such thing as straightforward.

The crippling anxiety was making me completely dysfunctional at home and I waited and waited for my baby to stop moving. I had no faith that our little boy would make it here alive. My fear was affecting my everyday life, and so I was admitted to hospital for a second time, and this time I would stay until his birth. I made the most of my time in hospital and rested as much as I could. The midwives and doctors were most understanding and kind. I spent my time watching Eastbound and Down, reading Russell Brand's My Booky Wook and crying with guilt over leaving Jack at home. He was in great care, I know. But I was still missing him. These were his last days of being an "only" child (physically, as of course, he has a sister already) and I wasnt nurturing him like I should have been.
The last two days before the birth were the longest. They dragged and dragged. The night before, my heart raced and I called for CTG's quite a few times. By morning, I was bleary eyed but could not believe that our day had arrived. Everyone involved was incredibly excited. Two midwives came to collect me with beaming grins. Kelvin was happy and couldnt wipe the smile off his face. I walked from the ward and it seemed like I had a midwife guard of honour. Unfortunately, I still couldnt share their excitement and could barely bust a smile.
Things happened pretty quickly from there. I had opted for a scheduled c-section on February 21st 2011, at 38 weeks. I did not want to have surgery, it was painful and frightening. But I had two options. A section at 38 weeks, or a natural spontaneous labour at term, whenever that may be. The thing was, I couldnt go past 38 weeks. I had enough trouble getting to 38 weeks without a breakdown. I couldnt be induced for a "natural" labour because I had had a previous caeserean with Jack for breech presentation and they wouldnt induce a live baby. So...caeserean it was. A small price to pay for my sanity. Maybe it was selfish of me to have a section purely to alleviate my own fear. I felt terrible, knowing that the baby had no idea he was being born today. He was about to be pulled out of his warm little pocket without any knowledge of it!
I was prepped for the surgery. I had a gorgeous anaesthesiologist called Jeff who inserted my cannula and was just the right balance between comedic and sincere. As it turned out, he too had just had a stillborn daughter. He must have been strong man to endure that, then return to his job as an obstetric anaesthesiologist.
Then it was time to walk into the actual operating theatre. You can leave your dignity at the door here. On the table, I was instructed to hold a very specific pose as the spinal block was inserted. This took a while and every attempt was terrifying. Finally achieved, I was helped to lay down on the table, where my blood pressure promptly dropped to something ridiculous over thirty. I thought I was dying. DYING. It is what I imagine it to feel like. When I started to vomit too, I was really proud. Something was pushed through my drip and I felt much better.
The anaesthesiologist stood by my head. "So, can you feel anything?" he asked and I shook my head. "Good" he replied. "Because they started two minutes ago."
Before I knew it, he was here.

Archie.

A little cry and a glimpse of his purple body was all I got at first. I saw him moving and staff were exclaiming with delight over how beautiful he was. I thought I would be overwhlemed with emotion and cry everywhere, and maybe I would have been if the fear didnt kick in straight away. The fear that began with "he's okay, Stephanie, he's just having some trouble."

Trouble? Fluid in the lungs, apparently. They were using some equipment to remove this fluid. He wasnt crying, but I could see him moving. I was in a dream state. This wasnt happening. He was just meant to cry, be brought to me, and then go to Recovery for cuddles and breastfeeds. We were meant to call everyone ecstatically with our happy ending. But for sixteen long minutes, the paediatrician worked on him, attached an oxygen mask while everyone else stood around looking sombre. Occassionally someone would come over and explain what was happening, but I couldnt believe it when they said he was okay. I could tell by their faces that it was serious...they just didnt want to worry me. I must have been in some kind of shock because I felt insanely tired. My eyelids were heavy and I couldnt keep them open. I lay there "sleeping" while my son fought for breath. And eventually, he was taken to Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.

I was taken to Recovery, where I began to shake uncontrollably. This was a combination of anaesthetic and nerves. It lasted for thirty minutes.

I was wheeled in to see my baby and the sight was beautiful but terrifying. He was hooked up to monitors, a feeding tube and nasal ventilation equipment called a CPAP. We sat for hours with him and doctors explained about Archie's respiratory distress. He was going to be okay, but he just needed this bit of extra help. This kind of thing happened to lots of babies, I was assured. I looked around, and Archie was the only full term baby there. All the others were tiny little preemies, at 26 or 27 weeks. I dont know where their parents got the strength from.

I was taken back to my room...against my will, I must add. We still hadnt told anyone that he'd been born, we wanted to exclaim our news without a "but, he's in the NICU."

Eventually, we made tentative phone calls and decided that we would bring Jack in for a visit. Upon visiting the NICU again, with Jack this time, we were met with a lovely surprise, which was that Archie's CPAP had been removed and he had been "downgraded" from NICU to High Dependancy Care. Apparently his breathing had stabilised and that was a good sign, obviously. But now his glucose levels had dropped. I did not have Gestational Diabetes in my pregnancy, but apparently, babies with respiratory distress often have low levels of glucose. As a result, breastmilk alone was not sustaining his glucose levels. He needed top ups of formula. It took three days in the Special Care Nursery to get Archie's glucose levels to normal. I was running to the nursery every 4 hours for feeding with a c-section wound to contend with. I was in trouble with the nursery staff for not being there on time, and I was in trouble with the maternity midwives for not resting properly. I couldnt win!

I have to say, though, the paediatric nurses in that NICU were amazing. Their skills are second to none.

Once Archie had stable glucose levels, he was able to return to my room in Maternity with me. That made things easier. After ten days in hospital, Archie and I came home. We had a slow start to breastfeeding and I "gave up" for a while. The kid had absolutely ruined my nipples and the pain was excruciating. Not only that, his blood sugar seemed to drop whenever he went without a formula feed. I allowed my nipples to heal and now he is back breastfeeding full time. Occassionally I give him a bottle if he is particularly unsettled, and I have learned that we all do what is best for our kids and in this case, formula was needed to keep Archie's glucose up.

Right now, he is doing beautifully. Of course, none of us sleep much, but this newborn period goes so fast, I am so aware of that.

But we made it. We have our family: Jack, Sybella and Archie.

Thank you for your support and kindness.

Week 38

2011-03-02T12:11:00.001+11:00

Introducing Archie Patrick

21st February 2011

8lb 14oz ~ 55cm

Totally in love.

Birth story to come!

Week 37

2011-02-15T09:52:00.000+11:00

This is all too hard now. Last night I had an honest to goodness panic attack, despite having had a CTG six hours before. I went to bed at 9.30pm, woke at 11pm and could feel nothing. I tried all the usual, drinking water, eating a chocolate biscuit. But my heart was racing and tears were dripping down my cheeks. Even if the baby was moving, I doubt my perception was all that anyway, and I was convinced he was gone. I engage in all this magical, superstitious thinking. The night that Sybella died, something was "different." I dont know what it was, but I remember being so weak and fatigued and tired. I was only 33 weeks, but I felt like I was days away from giving birth (which I was, unknowingly). I got Thai food for dinner that night because I couldnt muster up any energy to cook.
Last night, I had that terrible tiredness again. I again got Thai food for dinner. Then remembered that it had been the same routine on that terrible day I lost Sybella. So I was convinced that Rainbow Baby would die last night. Of course, my tiredness this time is attributed to running up and down the freeway for appointments, crippling anxiety and fear and no sleep. Oh, and the 8lb kid inside me.
My plan is to be admitted to hospital again this week. I will return in two days time and stay until the birth. I am just not coping at home. Jack's school drop off wipes me out for the rest of the day. My house is a disgrace. I want to nest, but am too scared. I am hoping that someone will hire a cleaner for me before I bring the baby home...(hint, hint...someone want to forward this post to Kelvin?!)

I was at an appointment the other day, listening to Rainbow Baby's heartbeat, when another pregnant woman started talking to me. Now, I am particularly irritable these days. And I dont hide it well. I made it clear that I wasnt interested in talking, not by being rude, but by answering in monosyllabics and lacking engagement.
"Humph" she groaned. "I am so sick of these appointments. Twice a week! TWICE A WEEK!"
I look at her. "How often do you come?" she asks me. "Every day" I answer. "EVERY DAY? Why? What is your complication?"
I respond with "Previous stillbirth. You?"
She doesnt seem peturbed or affected by my answer. "Oh. Cholestasis. Gestational Diabetes. You know." I nod. Look away. "But I cant work, because I'm HERE all the time. And I had to take my daughter out of childcare. It's so inconvenient."

Yes. Yes it is. About as inconvenient as picking out a baby coffin, I think.

"What..." I ask.."is the outcome if your pregnancy isnt monitored accordingly?"
"Ummm, stillbirth" she answers.
"I've had a stillbirth" I reiterate."In April. Trust me, do your monitoring. It's not as inconvenient as stillbirth."

Normally, I wouldnt be so blunt. But I have had it. I cant be nice anymore. I dont know why I find it so hard. I'm stretched to my limit. I hope I can become nice again when my Rainbow Baby is born.

See Baby This Week

Week 36

2011-02-10T16:23:00.000+11:00

One thing I hate is dumbarse doctors at obscure medical clinics, who ring and tell your husband that his serology is all negative. Then ring back three days later and say, "no actually, you need to come in for a re-test. You may have Parvovirus." Parvovirus. Slapped Cheek. Fifth Disease. That I am not immune to. And that causes stillbirth. Excuse me for my first swear in all of my blogging history. But FUCK.
I spent a whole day at Maternal Fetal Medicine, having heart tracing, ultrasounds, counselling, blood tests, talks with doctors. The good news is that there was no evidence of anemia or hydrops fetalis, which is what leads to the baby being stillborn if the mother contracts Parvovirus while pregnant. I have not come down with anything yet, no rash or fever, so lets hope that I somehow did not contract it from Kelvin. Anyway, by the time the virus were to cause any problems in the baby, I would have delivered. Still...I was hoping for as little drama as possible for the next couple of weeks.
I am blurrily getting through each day. I dont know how I am doing it, truthfully. I want to believe we are meeting Rainbow Baby in a week or so, and I feel confident about this..I can "see" him in a way I could never "see" Sybella. However, I still havent gotten anything ready. All I have done is pull out Jack's old baby clothes, washed them, folded them messily and shoved them in a cupboard. I have no cot mattress, pram, bouncer or anything like that. I have no mobiles, carseat, books or stuffed toys. I did buy nappies. That's it.

You can see what a difference a stillbirth experience makes on one's confidence levels.

The first picture is Sybella's room, all done up by the time I was 32 weeks pregnant. The second picture is the same room, "prepared" for Rainbow Baby, and I am edging towards 37 weeks now. Just for funsies, here is a picture of me at 36 weeks pregnant. I actually had a woman say out loud "Oh my God, wow" as she walked past me.

Based on the ultrasound, the baby is 7lb 15oz already. Thank goodness for that vaginal bypass.

See Baby This Week

Week 35

2011-02-06T19:26:00.000+11:00

Ah, respite. I have never felt so safe. I had a room to myself, a bed to myself and a bathroom to myself. Better than at home...
My meals were brought to me, my sheets were changed daily and I had the CTG machine on demand. My biggest responsibility was winning Solitaire on my iPhone.
I had few visitors, because I hadnt made it public that I was in hospital. Kelvin didnt even visit, because he had broken out in a rash. He wasnt sick, he had no fever, but just this non descript rash all over his body. Out of responsibility to the other newborns (I was in the maternity ward...not as harsh as it sounds...I only saw one baby the entire time) I told him to stay away. I revelled in the solitude. I missed Jack but I loved being alone. I loved having no responsibilities and running by my own schedule. I showered at odd times, slept at odd times and had the CTG at odd times...once at 4am. The midwives were beautiful and sympathetic. I had all day to lie there and do kick counts. And if movements werent up to scratch, the CTG was right outside my door.
The Boss returned from holidays and rang me. Now, this was the man, who, at the beginning of the pregnancy, said I could do whatever I needed to feel safe. Ring anytime, visit anytime, come to hospital if I need to. Well, he must have forgotten these promises, because he decided it was appropriate to question why I had been admitted. I wonder whether his ego was bruised that I had pursued different avenues for reassurance. I had gradually stopped relying on him for care, as he seemed irritable and unapproachable whenever I rang or visited. This, of course, could have been my own perception, and perhaps I was oversensitive. But the day he told me my anxiety was "abnormal" was the day I stopped putting my emotional trust in him. Since when was grief and anxiety part of a formula? What was "normal" in response to grief and trauma? I was clearly suffering from PTSD, based on a book that a hospital psychiatrist had given me. These symptoms, from Anxiety Australia, explain exactly what my day to day life was consumed by:

Intrusive Symptoms:

Distressing thoughts or images (recurring images of Sybella, dead in my arms, or in her coffin.)
Nightmares about the event (nightly.)
Feeling or acting as if the traumatic event were recurring (whenever the baby had a sleep, I was sure that he had died. I also "remembered" Sybella's last movements, and kept thinking that the baby's movements were the same, and therefore the last ones, too.)
Intense psychological distress when exposed to something that triggers memories of the traumatic event (I panicked when I drove past the funeral home that cared for Sybella. I cried every time I walked into the hospital, because the smell reminded me of her birth. I burst into tears in David Jones while shopping for baby clothes for Rainbow Baby.)
Physical symptoms such as sweating, muscle tension and rapid heartbeat when exposed to things that trigger memories of the traumatic event (as simple as seeing the same model of pram that we had for Sybella.)

Avoidance Symptoms

Avoiding people, places and activities that trigger memories of the traumatic event (I wouldnt take Jack to the library, as much as he begged, because we went to the library on the day Sybella died. I wouldnt eat at restaurants that I ate at while pregnant with Sybella.)
Losing interest in, and enjoyment of e.g. leisure activities, study, work or stop participating in such activities altogether (I enjoyed nothing. All I did was rush around, doing my chores in minimum time, so I could lie down and kick count, or visit the hospital.)
Feeling detached from other people (I stopped answering the phone, returning texts, emails or facebook messages. I was constantly irritable with people that I normally got on well with.)
Not be able to see a future for themselves, they don't expect to get married, have a family , live a long time (I had absolutely no faith or confidence that Rainbow Baby would emerge from my body alive. A live baby was a completely foreign and surreal concept.)

Physical Arousal Symptoms:

Sleep disturbance (I slept for 3 hours each night, and that sleep was fitful.)
Irritability or anger (constantly.)
Impaired concentration (I havent read a book in months. I can watch a movie for ten minutes. I finish half a job and wander off to do something else.)
Being always on the alert for signs of danger (hypervigilant about movement. It consumed my day and night.)
Being easily startled (I jumped at Kelvins's sneezes. My heart pounded at the sound of an ambulance siren.)

How can you tell a PTSD sufferer that her response to stillbirth and a subsequent pregnancy is "abnormal"? Apparently, I "behaved worse" than other women in my position. I was "extreme". So wouldnt that indicate a duty of care to ensure that I was okay, rather than judging me for what I was expressing? There were so many variables as to how women behaved in the same situation. How did their baby die? Was the cause known? Did she suffer from pre existing anxiety? How long between pregnancies? Did she have other kids?
I felt like asking him how many of his children's ashes did he have sitting on his mantelpiece? How many times had he pushed out a perfect, beautiful little baby girl who never opened her eyes? Did he feel lucky that he got to age 46 without planning a funeral for his daughter? Because I was 29 when I had to do it. And Jack was 4 when he attended the funeral of his sister.

But I digress. And I rant. But I make no apologies.. I am doing what I have to do just to get by day by day. My four days in hospital were a blur of true peace and comfort. I think I will be returning for more respite prior to the birth.

See Baby This Week

Week 34

2011-02-01T21:10:00.000+11:00

Here I am. Week 34. The gestational week I found out that Sybella had died.
Truthfully, week 33 seemed worse, in hindsight, as it signalled the anticipation of approaching week 34.
Still, though, I was badly anxious. Badly. My stomach was in a constant knot. I wasnt sleeping. One particular night, I woke up, heart pounding, sweating, and desperately trying to feel him move. He didnt move for about twenty minutes. For those twenty minutes, I was convinced he had died. I cried and beseeched "please move...please move." Eventually, he did and the relief then made me break out in new, cold sweat. In the morning, I had an appointment at 11am for heart monitoring, but I woke early, jumped in the shower and was physically sick from nerves. I gagged and retched under the water, shaking all the while. "This is not normal," I told myself, and I knew it well. I arrived for my appointment at 9am, two hours early. I sat there, jiggling my foot, until the midwife eventually let me in before my appointment time. Once attached to the monitor, I relaxed slightly but watched the baby's heartbeat like a hawk. My trace finished, so I went to the hospital cafeteria to have lunch. That made me nervous, as there wasnt much to choose from. I went with Subway, only salad and cheese, toasted and microwaved (mmm, hot, soggy lettuce) and a chiller drink from Gloria Jeans. Milk drink products seemed to fill me up, as I wasnt tolerating proper food all that well. Before leaving, I went to the bathroom. I noticed on the toilet paper, a tiny reddish-black blob. Clot like. But tiny, like a matchhead. I went to the car and sat there for a while, wondering what to do. Should I go back and tell a midwife? Or go home and see if anything else happened? After speaking to Kelvin, he told me to go back and tell someone, otherwise I would panic all night.
I did that, and found myself at L&D, strapped to a monitor again, and getting a speculum exam. Nice. No obvious bleeding was seen, and my cervix was closed. Good stuff. But on the machine, the baby's heart was racing. "Tachycardia" was the word they used, which is a horrible word. For a good two hours I sat there, having horrid Braxton Hicks, watching the heartrate stay twenty beats above the normal baseline. In my mind, I envisioned cord accidents, fetal hypoxia, and the tachycardia being the beginning of the baby's distress. Needless to say, that night I was a mess again. I didnt sleep, I just lay there, frozen, counting movements and googling "fetal hypoxia."
The next day, I gave up. I rang my midwife and asked to be admitted to hospital. I needed emotional respite. I needed to be free of responsibility. I needed to sleep.

See Baby This Week

Week 33

2011-01-22T14:01:00.000+11:00

33 weeks was the actual week that Sybella died. She died at 33 weeks and 5 days, approximately. She was born at 34 weeks and 1 day.
This week was so consumed by anxiety that I wondered if I was losing my mind. My stomach was in a constant knot. I couldnt keep food down. I stopped sleeping, after hearing that most babies die at night, when the mother is asleep because thats when her blood pressure drops. Constipation pain became a placental abruption, in my mind.
I turned up to hospital daily. Some staff were more than understanding. Others wanted me to get my act together. One particular midwife told me "I'm just a midwife. I cant cope with your anxiety. I dont know what to do for you." My response? "All you have to do is put the transducer on. That is all." I dont want anyone to have to "cope" with my anxiety. I know it's irrational. No-one can take it away, and I think that many midwives think that I want them to. I dont. All I want, is to turn up for heart monitoring without resistance or questions. I dont want to explain myself. I just want to say "I am anxious today. I am having a bad day. Can I please hear the baby's heartbeat?" Then I want them to agree, and hook me up, and leave me alone to concentrate on that beautiful thudding.
At 33 weeks and 6 days, I saw an obstetrician, not The Boss, as he was on holidays. I saw his replacement. I spilled everything. I told her I wasnt coping. She set me up with a hospital psychiatrist, who was lovely and helpful. We discussed an inpatient admission to the Maternity ward. Although the thought was alluring, logistically, I have Jack's birthday and first day of school coming up and dont want to miss those.
I am deeply fearful and am doubting more and more every day that I will birth this baby alive. Instinctively, I know he is okay. I know he is strong, and I can "see" him. But I am so profoundly affected by Sybella's death that my confidence and trust is completely shot.

There is even a point now where I wonder if too much movement is an issue! For the last two days, Rainbow Baby has had 15-20 minute bursts of energy (usually after a meal) where he doesnt stop wriggling at all. He calms down after a while and goes back to his normal pattern. But of course, I wonder "is he okay?"

I have a c-section booked for Feb 21. I wont feel at peace until then.

See Baby This Week

Week 32

2011-01-15T18:39:00.000+11:00

I think from now until the birth will be exactly the same. A rollercoaster of manic emotion and fear. I have tried to keep a lid on my anxiety, but I have given up. Let them think I am a lunatic. Let them worry about me and discuss how to handle me. I'm past it, beyond caring. I openly admit to hospital staff: "I am not coping." I turn up for fetal heart monitoring for no reason now, and dont even bother making up an excuse. "I want to listen to the heartbeat," I say. Unapologetically. At Maternal Fetal Medicine, I request ultrasounds unashamedly. I am always accomodated, which I do appreciate. If anyone dares to question my mental state and whether I am overreacting, God help them. I have terrible visions of the same thing happening all over again. My heart starts to pound when I imagine the possibility of my baby boy coming out, sleeping...having to go through it all over again, the funeral, the grief, the pity, the explanations for Jack. Oh, Jack. He is old enough now to really understand that there is a baby coming soon. If something were to happen...the burden of Jack's pain alone would be enough to send me into eternal catatonia.
He talks to the baby, sings to him. The fear of my boy living through the death of two of his siblings is unbearable.
All of this is what pushes me past my embarrasment of presenting to the hospital so often. If I can do anything to ensure this baby's health and safety, I will.

Even though most people are nice about it, some of them really dont understand.
All I can say to them is: "This is my child. My child."

See Baby This Week

Week 31

2011-01-08T13:55:00.000+11:00

My 31st week coincided with the horrid lack of routine of Christmas. Kelvin was home, everything was a constant mess in the lead up to Christmas. Jack was hysterical with excitement and his sleep routines were off.
I dont cope well in this environment. I cope best when I know that Tuesday is cleaning day, Thursday is grocery day, Wednesdays are appointment days etc. When my routine is thrown, my anxiety levels hit the roof. And that, they did, this week.
I knew that Maternal Fetal Medicine were not open through Christmas, and The Boss was not readily available...all the public holidays were confusing, and that void of time between Christmas and New Year was horrendous.
This also co-incided with the information that my 1 hour Glucose Tolerance Test came back with elevated sugar levels. As a result, I needed to have the 2 hour challenge. As I waited for the results, I was advised to stick to a low GI diet, that included wholemeal rubbish. The sudden lack of sugar in my diet affected the baby's movements, as I had previously used sugar to get his movements kickstarted. Now there was virtually no sugar in my diet, I am sure he was very annoyed! I could just picture him, rolling his eyes. "Muuuuuuu-uuum! What's this Basmati crap you keep sending down? Water? Water? What about orange juice??"
So, yes, he was very quiet, and coupled with the fact that I didnt have my usual tools of reassurance readily at hand, I lost my mind over Christmas.
I went to the hospital for fetal heart monitoring every second day, on average. Once I even went twice in a day. That day, I noticed alarm bells going off with the midwives. They were getting "worried." From the outside, I could see, that as professionals, they had every right to be concerned. My behaviour was irrational. It was beyond normal boundaries. I knew that too. But didnt care. Because 8 months ago, I held a funeral for my baby. Because I have my baby's ashes on my mantlepiece. Because my husband has a tattoo of her name on his arm. When I go back to that place, my irrational behaviour doesnt seem so irrational.
It so happens, that my 2 hour Glucose Challenge was normal and within range. I amped up the sugar again (not really!)...and Rainbow Baby seems much happier. His movements have changed again. Rather than jabs, he rolls and pushes. I remember Jack doing that. It is reassuring.
I lay in bed this very morning, feeling him roll around. I had been taught how to find the head, and I had my hand over the hard area that was Rainbow Baby's head. I palpated softly, amazed that I could feel the head so clearly. Suddenly, the hard area was no longer "hard"! It gave way and became soft. It was such a disconcerting feeling that I verbally exclaimed "ooooh!" I immediately started thinking that I had pressed the fontanelle...I had poked out an eye...I had dented his forehead. Although I hadnt been pushing that hard, the "dip" I felt was very real and overt. I was told repeatedly that the most likely scenario was that Rainbow Baby got irritated by the pressing and slid his head out of the way. I definitely had not pressed harder than The Boss or any midwife who had palpated my abdomen previously. I kept telling myself that I couldnt have done anything too horrendous to the baby with skin, uterine muscle and amniotic fluid in between us! That's the nature of pregnancy after loss, though. You worry about every little thing.

See Baby This Week

Week 30

2010-12-24T19:56:00.000+11:00

I have some exciting news.
Rainbow Baby is a BOY!
I knew I said I would find out the sex, then I changed my mind and didnt want to find out...but I changed it back again. I am very very excited and relieved. Here is the story of The Great Unveiling.

Taking Jack to preschool this week, I clicked him into his seat, walked around to my side of the car and well and truly went flying. Somehow, I skidded on the steep gravel driveway in shoes that had no grip, and fell onto my hands and knees, taking the skin off my palms and bruising my knee very badly. I was relieved, however, to miss the massive fresh bird poo that had just been laid on the driveway. Thank goodness.
The impact of the fall, even though I didnt hit my abdomen, was enough to scare me senseless. I trooped on to preschool, dropped off Jack, came home and showered...to wash off the dirt, skin and blood.
I called The Boss, who was away delivering babies or something (how dare those women go into labour when I have fallen over?)
Kelvin ended up calling the beautiful midwives at the Day Assessment Clinic, who told me to come straight in. I sheepishly turned up, and they fussed around me, organising a CTG, ultrasound, blood tests and a visit from a doctor. I had to have blood tests to check for any haemorrage that may have occurred from the impact. I then had the fetal heart monitoring, which was completely normal. Funnily enough, since the fall, Rainbow Baby had been more active than ever. I was also sent to have a formal ultrasound to check for any bleeding, placental abruption or fluid loss. I nervously watched the screen as the sonographer took measurements. I wanted to ask if the baby had any of the same kidney issues that Sybella had, but was too nervous in case she said "yes." Eventually, I closed my eyes and worked up the courage to ask...but it turned out that the baby's renal pelvis measurements were completely within range. I also did not appear to have the uterine "fold" or "sheet" or "band" that I did with Sybella's pregnancy. That helped put me at ease also.
As I watched Rainbow Baby, legs splayed, wriggle around, I noticed a "bulge" between those splayed legs. "Is that...a penis?" I asked hopefully. The sonographer laughed. "Yes, it is."
I exhaled and a huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. This is hard to explain in writing, just how I felt during this moment. In an instant, things were "different." The baby was a boy, not a girl. I had given birth to a healthy boy before. And now I was going to do it again. Of course, there was no gender-related reason that Sybella died. She didnt die because of something to do with being a girl. But I was irrationally afraid that my body couldnt successfully produce girl babies...and so I had never found out the sex of Rainbow Baby for fear of it being another girl, and the anxiety that would come with that knowledge.
Also, I was terrified of returning to the same hospital, the same birthing suite, within 10 months to give birth to another girl. It was too...similar. There would be too much emotion and too many memories. Already, knowing I was having a little boy, likened the upcoming experience to Jack's beautiful birth. The one that ended perfectly, with a live baby.
I left the Day Assessment Clinic feeling lighthearted and happy and bursting to tell my news. I couldnt stop smiling for ages. And not only that, my fall hadnt compromised the baby at all.

Now, about this little boy's name...we may have changed our mind. Not sure. Kelvin is umming and ahhing, and although my first choice is Reuben, we have another name in the wings that we are both excited about. It's cute. But we might keep it quiet for now, just so there is one surprise, since I ruined the big surprise of the baby's sex!

See Baby This Week

Week 29

2010-12-22T19:57:00.000+11:00

Good days and bad days. That's what I have to live with at the moment. I never know what is coming, whether it is a good day or bad day, but they seem to come in runs. A few good days, followed by a few bad ones.
I mostly walk around in a state of disconnect and apathy. When I happen to be sitting down, and the baby gives me a kick, I am filled with complete euphoria for about two seconds. I am overwhelmingly in love, and I take that as a good sign. A sign that the baby is strong and healthy. I always knew there was something "not right" about Sybella's pregnancy and so when she kicked me, I (subconciously) very rarely allowed myself to connect with her when she moved. But when Rainbow Baby is having a dance in there, I am filled with wonder, just the way I was when I used to feel Jack. I never get tired of the kicks and jabs (although, by now they are more rolls and pushes)...even when I am trying to sleep and baby has the hiccups. I just lie there in the dark, one hand on my belly, and I smile.
Those are the good days.
The bad days, on the other hand...
The bad days are the ones where nothing gets done, because I am lying on the couch, an ice cold glass of water next to me, tears streaming down my face because I cant feel any movement. Or, I can feel movement but it isnt "satisfactory." Each time this happens, I am positive that this is the time my baby has left me. Sometimes I feel "empty" as if the baby has gone. Of course it hasnt, and there is usually a movement shortly after this panicky episode of fear. The movement doesnt abate my fear for that time, and I usually ring The Boss. One particular time, however, he wasnt in his rooms. He was on leave.
For me, this was the end of the world. Funnily, it ended up being a wonderful turn of events.
My last appointment with The Boss ended with him asking me, quite reasonably, whether I thought my anxiety was being managed properly. Was I on the right medication? Was I seeing the right psychologist? Was I functioning satisfactorily? He told me that the number of appointments I needed to get through wasnt "normal." That he had many women in the same situation as me, that were coping much better. That I wasnt special, or that my situation wasnt unique.
Look, he said all this very nicely. And personally, because it sounds harsh, I put it down to him having no sleep from delivering babies all night, and had just had it to the eye teeth with this maniac patient who was in his office every five minutes.
I did take it on board...but not very well.
So the next time I had a panic attack, I didnt call him, I called Delivery Suite. And they...sent me to a wonderful, secret place.
My hospital has a Maternal Fetal Medicine unit. Attached to that unit is a Day Assessment Clinic. Armed by two beautiful midwives, who sternly told me I was never to sit at home crying and waiting for baby to move. I must come straight in, whenever I needed to. On this particular day, I had Jack with me. Into a big armchair, I sat...much like the armchairs in Gold Class, with the levers on the side? A midwife strapped me up to a Fetal Heart Monitor, gave me and Jack a juice and a sandwich, gave Jack some toys...and left us there to listen to that beautiful heartbeat thumping along at 132 BPM. I hadnt felt so safe or validated in 29 weeks. I was so thankful to find this magical area.
A long talk with the midwives later, we settled on a schedule. Once a week I would go in for monitoring. If I needed to come in between, then that was perfectly fine.

It is my own special time with Rainbow Baby. Peaceful, quiet, alone. Listening to each other's heartbeats.

See Baby This Week

Week 28

2010-12-17T06:56:00.000+11:00

Okay, so my "birth plan."
Now, I have a "thing" about birth. I think it is very personal, there are no hard and fast rules and nobody has a say about your choice apart from you, your partner, and your doctor.
I dont like "birth plans," as in the written type, that specify "no epidural/no intervention/I want to be on my fit ball, vocalising."
Not that I think those things are bad, I dont. But my goodness, if I have learned anything from Sybella's death, it is that you cannot plan everything. Not everything goes the way you want to to, or think it will.
Jack was a breech baby and very large. I discussed at length my birth choices with my doctors and midwives. I was presented with options for a vaginal delivery, and a cesearean delivery. I was told of the risks and benefits of both. I was sent home and told to think about it. I was never coerced, or told that I had to have a cesearean, although that is what I chose in the end. Why did I choose it?
For Jack's safety. The one and only reason. Not because I was afraid of the pain of labour. But because I wasnt interested in experiencing labour and birth if there was a risk of Jack breaking his hips, of him getting stuck at the neck, of my borderline placenta praevia becoming a problem. I had been bleeding from 34 weeks and was not risking a natural birth, I felt it was too dangerous. I wasnt told it was too dangerous, I felt it was too dangerous. Big difference. I was autonomous in my decision and I made it independently.
Sybella's birth was a normal vaginal delivery (I hate the word normal when referring to birth. What is normal? Certainly, although my delivery was "normal," the outcome of a dead baby wasnt!)
The thing that got me through Sybella's induced vaginal birth was the fact that I was unprepared. That sounds funny, I guess. But I had no expectations, no plan, no idea what I was in for. I guess, knowing she was dead, I didnt care about the pain of labour, in fact I welcomed it. It was a bittersweet irony how good I was at labour, how beautifully I birthed her, how "easy" labour was for me. Physically, I didnt feel that labour was a big deal. It was not the worst pain I had ever felt. I have had migraines that are worse. My body knew instinctively what to do. Curling up on the bed was what helped me the most, even though many say that walking around and having "active labour" helps. Not me. Walking around was excruciating. If I wasnt pressing my spine into the mattress, or sitting on the toilet, then I was in agony. So even though I was a labour pro, my little dead baby at the end meant that I always viewed my cesearean with Jack as my most triumphant birth experience.
Bottom line, and my point being: Birth is personal. There is no "right" way to give birth. There are no "disappointments" in birth, if you end up having to have pain relief, or a c-section. It is so intensely your own experience, and when your live, pink, screaming baby comes out at the end, whatever way it got here was worth it.
I am leaning towards a scheduled caesearen with Rainbow Baby. My anxiety is mounting more and more each day, will peak at 34 weeks, and by 38 weeks, I know I will be downright certifiable. I would love another natural birth. Love it. I would love to endure all that pain and hard work, and experience the elation of pushing out a beautiful live baby. But mentally and emotionally, it is better for everyone (read: the people who have to live with me) if I have a date set, a count down ready and a plan in place (ironic, seeing as I just said I hate plans!)
I know myself. And I know what is best for my emotional state as well as my family's. Most likely, Rainbow Baby will be born via ceaserean section at the end of February, 2 weeks early. People can raise their eyebrows all they want and call me weak, but I know that they are wrong. I have never been stronger as I have had to be the last 28 weeks.
And this is my call.
(And for the record, caesareans are way harder and way scarier than vaginal deliveries. I am prouder for enduring a c-section than my natural birth. Definitely not the easy option.)

See Baby This Week

Week 27

2010-12-08T19:40:00.001+11:00

So, I've gotten to that uncomfortable, huffy puffy, sweating, have-to-sit-down-every-five-minutes, waddling whale stage. The really heavy stage. When people say to me "oh, those last weeks are the worst, arent they?"...when I'm not even int the last weeks, damn it. Or "when was your due date?" How do you answer that with "February"? When it is only December?
Look. I'm not a fatteh. I am a person who is little, has a short torso and long limbed babies. Therefore, my pregnancy bump sticks right out front. It's just how I was made.
Check this out:

At least I can say I'm in the third trimester now. That might fool people. Bleurgh.

The air conditioner drips and I cant use it for long periods of time. I lie in front of the fan, legs and arms akimbo, to stay cool. The Sydney humidity is insane right now. Insane.

Everything takes twice as long and I have had to resort to using a "claw" to pick stuff up off the ground like someone on Weekend Detention doing highway rubbish duty.

I sleep terribly, because Jack still insists on sleeping in our bed. Truthfully, I love it and I love cuddling him during the night. But it makes for a fitful sleep. I would have received the award for World's Most Terrible Mother the other day, when after one particular night of a total of 2.5 hours of fitful sleep, I couldnt wake up in the morning. I finally peeled my eyes open at 9.30am, to see that Jack was nowhere to be found. Calling for him, there was no answer. Stumbling, bleary eyed out into the backyard and I was met with the sight of my child, sitting atop the hills hoist clothes line, hoiking pegs over the fence. I waddle back inside, to the sounds of "Oi!" coming from George the neighbour's side. But I dont care about George. I just care that I have no pegs left.

Huh.

My physical exhaustion makes for a grumpy Steph. No one should dare get in my way...

Shoppers at Coles get glared at, or muttered at to "mooooovvve" when I'm feeling particularly narky. General challengers get stared down, indignantly told what exactly is on my mind, usually with condescension.

Dont I sound gorgeous right now?

Rest assured, this is not a 24/7 affliction. I am generally well behaved. Unattractive, but well behaved. But I have my moments. Kelvin has learned to "manage" me which means fervently nodding his head and agreeing with everything I say...which includes conspiring to violently assuage war on the snails who do poo in my letterbox.

11 weeks. That is all. (Next topic: My Birth Plan, which explains why I'm having a 38 week delivery instead of 40+).

See Baby This Week

Week 26

2010-12-05T20:54:00.001+11:00

Since the baby's movement patterns have become stronger and more regular, I thought I would relax, knowing the approximate times I would feel a kick.
Unfortunately, no. The more the baby moves, the more I freak when it doesnt move. There are quiet moments, somtimes complete stillness in there. When I experience those moments, the moments when I cant feel anything, I kind of lose my mind. I drop everything, stop and start kick-counting. I eat lollies, drink ice cold water, poke, prod, jiggle and cry. I cry a lot while I do this.
This week, Rainbow Baby had such a quiet day that I actually stalked The Boss. I stalked him.
Im not proud of it. This type of anxiety really pushes the boundaries...
After four hours of complete stillness, I rang his office, to see if I could "call past for a check." Now, this is laughable, because we live an hour away. The Boss's office and my hospital where I will be delivering is a sweet one hour drive away. The Boss's secretary told me he was at the public hospital across the road (my delivery hospital) doing Clinic duty. Big mistake.
At 3.30pm, I bundle Jack into the car, drive down the Freeway, and present myself at the hospital's obstetric Clinic (funnily, where all my antenatal checks for Sybella and Jack took place).
As The Boss walked out to call his next patient, he catches my eye. He stops. Looks around. "Hi Steph."
Hmmmm. I anticipate that he is going to have the shits. But I still have not felt the baby move, so I feel justified in my crazy behaviour.
I wait until his last patient has finished and walk into the room apologising profusely. I explain that the baby hasnt moved in five hours, I was stressing out, blah blah blah. As I babble, explaining myself and apologising, The Boss calmly takes my blood pressure and coaxes me over to the portable ultrasound machine (that he has hunted down especially for me...normally in the public Clinic only the doppler is used.)
I keep babbling, until he shows me a strong heartbeat and a baby kicking away, happily oblivious to my anxiety. With a deep breath, I shut up. The Boss explains the baby's position, which is one that the limbs are facing inwards, meaning I havent been able to feel the movements. Well. What a little bugger.
"So," says The Boss conversationally. "You found me. Thought I could hide here."
"Yeah," I respond. "Sorry for stalking you and chasing you all over the place."
He laughs, and gets immediately accosted by Jack, who wants to explain, and dramatise, the details of his last vomit.

What an afternoon for this saint of a man.

See Baby This Week

Week 25

2010-11-28T13:24:00.000+11:00

Kelvin got to feel the baby kick this week. I remember when I was pregnant with Sybella and as time went on, I became more and more concerned that her movements werent ever strong enough to Kelvin to feel, probably until the 30 week mark. Even then, her movements were never the soccer kicking boots that Jack used to give me, or that Rainbow Baby gives me now. They were more gentle rolls and "bubbly" twitches. Whats more, is that Sybella's movements never progressed or got much stronger as time went on. Her last ever movement was about as strong as her first ever movement.
The fact that Kelvin was able to feel Rainbow Baby very strongly at 25 weeks was very comforting. As the week progressed, the movements became more regular and predictable. I know when Rainbow Baby sleeps and I know when he/she is due to wake up. I begin to see my stomach move, jiggle and jump as Rainbow Baby rolls around and dances and beats me up from the inside. EVERY movement is one that I am grateful for. EVERY movement is a wonder and I never tire of feeling them. Considering this is most likely my last pregnancy (I just dont think I have the strength or emotional resources to go through this ever again), it makes each kick more special. It is probably the only thing I like about pregnancy right now...the kicking. Everything else about pregnancy is in the "countdown" category.
My life has begun to revolve around Rainbow Baby's movements. I am CONSTANTLY checking, feeling, stopping. If it is longer than half an hour, I drink cold water, eat a handful of lollies and lie down to do a kick count...even though The Boss says that kick counting is not really reliable until 28 weeks. Most of the time, Rainbow Baby concedes defeat, is obedient and gives me a boot. And I love him/her for it.
I waver between thinking the baby is a boy and the baby is a girl. In all honesty, the fact that The Boss hasnt been able to tell me makes me lean towards it being a girl. As I mentioned earlier, Kelvin and I have decided on the name Imogen Scarlett (he's not set on Scarlett, but as Hope's Mama said when she was naming her Rainbow Baby Angus Leo, "who is he to argue with me?" after everything I have gone through?!...I mean, of course he gets a say, but I think my say holds a bit more weight, considering...)
I think Rainbow Baby, if indeed she is a girl, has chosen Imogen as her name. It has never been a name that jumped out at me. I always had my names "picked out" from a young age (Jack and Lucy). Imogen never occurred to me until one day I was picking up toys off the floor and "Imogen Scarlett" just popped into my head. I wasnt even thinking of names. Since then, these "coincidences" have been noticed.

Reading a home decorating magazine in a waiting room, there was an article about a family with four daughters. Two of the daughters were Sybella and Imogen.
I found out The Boss has four sons and one daughter. One of his sons is named Jack. His only daughter is named Imogen.
Picking out a movie to watch one rainy Sunday afternoon, I had an urge to watch Fried Green Tomatoes From The Whistlestop Cafe. I havent watched this since I was 13. The main character's name...is Imogen.
A man that I worked with back in 2005, whilst pregnant with Jack, also had a baby due at the same time (well, his wife did!) Their daughter, Sienna, was born a few weeks after Jack early in 2006. Via Facebook, I have learned that he has since had another baby girl, and her name is Imogen.

Now, I am sure there is something called "selective observation"...or so my psychologist tells me. I decide on the name Imogen, and so I notice it everywhere. Except that the instances in which "Imogen" pops up are uncannily related to my personal situations and experiences. They arent just "random." I have a stronger connection with each different example listed.
Sure, it's probably just coincidental. But since Sybella's death, I have been desperate for knowledge of a higher power, an understanding of the Universe's purpose. I like to think that all the signs pointing to Imogen are pointing to that. Like she existed before, and Sybella knows her, and is sending her to us.
I must sound like such a hippie!

I'll end my musings on week 25 with a belly shot of me...

Oh wait. That's Miranda Kerr. Close enough...

Is that laughing I hear?

See Baby This Week

Week 24

2010-11-24T17:14:00.001+11:00

And so the baby is "viable."
How horrid is it that once I get to 24 weeks, instead of saying "yeah, I'm six months pregnant!" I morbidly think "well, if the baby dies now, I have had TWO stillbirths. Not one stillbirth and one miscarriage. But TWO stillbirths." Hmmm. I wonder what that says about my mind?

And so begins one of the worst weeks in my life. I am completely overwhelmed and feel like I am not coping. The thing is, if you know me in real life, you probably wouldnt have picked up on this, especially at the beginning of the week. I still function well at the day to day, but my mind is a swirling mess of thoughts. Things I have to do, things I want to do, feelings, guilt, observations...it's all getting on top of me.
The week began with Kelvin away camping. So alone, with Jack, the poor thing spiked a 40 degree temperature and it ran for three days straight. I have never seen that boy so sick. He was terrible. He basically slept for two days and when he wasnt sleeping, he was crying. I felt so sorry for him and was helpless for much of it. Apart from panadol, nurofen, tepid baths and lots of cuddles, there wasnt much else I could do. On the third day, the fever broke, but Jack then came down with a spotty red rash. By this stage, he was fine, up and running around, eating and so on. I freaked out, wondering what the rash was, whether I would catch it, and what it meant for the baby. After the third doctor's appointment in two days, it transpired that Jack had a viral rash, just an immunological response to the temperature. I had never heard of these, nor seen one, so I was baffled. But all's well that ends well. When Kelvin fell ill a few days later, things went haywire again. I hadnt slept in almost 4 days, up with Jack most of the night, checking him, soothing him, googling meningitis (yep), and now Kelvin was sick. I realised it had been a long time since I had felt the baby move, and amidst all the chaos, I lay down to try and do a kick-count. The baby moved, but not very strongly. Just little twitches here and there, few and far between. This worried me, and so I went to see the Boss for a checkup. Kelvin also ushered me along. With Sybella and Jack, if I mentioned a quiet day, Kelvin wouldnt be worried at all. But now, he was ringing me every five minutes to see if the baby had moved. The Boss was in between deliveries, and had about four of them back to back. My appointment was at 12.30pm, but I didnt see him until 2.45pm. The entire time I was in the waiting room, I spent poking and prodding my belly, which Rainbow Baby studiously ignored. He/she wasnt moving for anything.
After an ultrasound to check the heartbeat and movement, The Boss said he was happy with everything. He said that my perception of the movement was probably skewed because of the stress I was under.
With all this going on, my nutritional intake had been shocking. I hadnt cooked a proper meal all week, and had been eating McDonalds, inhaling a cheeseburger in between doctors appointments, drinking coke to keep myself awake, and to get Rainbow Baby moving. Dinner was pizza or toast. Or noodles. Or nothing.
Who invented Mother Guilt? They need to be shot!
As I write now, I am watching the air conditioner drip condensation onto the couch and soak the mattress underneath on the fold out bed. This means now that I have to strip the cushion covers, as the inserts are soaked, mop up, fold out the bed to dry the mattress, which means moving the rug and the coffee table.
I just need a break! I just want to sit, undisturbed, eat pavlova and watch back to back episodes of How I Met Your Mother. Although Ted is the most annoying character in the world. I can see why it is taking him so long to find a chick to tolerate him. Geez.
Okay, so week 24 is a ramble of out of control musings that I hope have been somewhat amusing at least! Hopefully, week 25 is a little more contained.

See Baby This Week

Week 23

2010-11-11T18:49:00.000+11:00

I am such a party-pooper. Seriously.
I really really dont want to quash anyone's excitement of their impending new arrival. I have a few friends expecting babies at the moment. There are a few amongst them who have thrown magnificently extravagnant baby showers. I have nothing against baby showers. I had one myself for Jack. They are a lovely rite of passage and beautiful way to celebrate a new baby that is arriving.
If I were to write the last sentence in complete honesty though, I would write this: They are a lovely rite of passage and beautiful way to celebrate a new baby that is hopefully arriving. However, some people I know (not friends so much) have been blogging and have pictures up of their insanely indulgent baby showers. I am talking crazy-thousands of dollars spent-bugaboo prams as gifts-Egyptian cotton cot sheets baby showers.
What is that about? This is my spin on it all.
First, baby excitement is there. It's natural, it's normal. I am in no position to put a dampener on anyone's experiences because of what happened to me. I dont wish to pass a message of fear on to anyone (pssstt...just so you know...your baby may not come home to this personally designed nursery, overseen by Bec Hewitt). It is not my intention at all.
But the truth of matter is that extravagant nurseries are for the parents, not the baby. Really, all that paraphernalia...cushions, stuffed animals, mobile cords, cot bumpers...all I see is a huge SIDS risk. Also, even though I said it wasnt my intention to pass on fear...the reality of the matter is that there are no guarantees. And trust me, there is nothing worse than having everything set up, washed, folded, ready...in a beautiful pink room...that your baby doesnt get to come home to. I still have Sybella's room set up, I havent touched it. I dread the day I have to go through her things and box them up to make way for our new baby. I am not buying one thing for Rainbow Baby. I am counting on gifts after the birth to accomodate his/her wardrobe! But really, I have a bunch of singlets, socks, wraps and jumpsuits that will tide us over during that newborn period. Does Rainbow Baby deserve its own, new things? Yes. But I will buy them when he/she is safely home.
There is nothing wrong with preparation. I get that. But I cant abide spending thousands on a certain type of pram...which is what we did with Jack...and the kid decided he'd rather sleep in a handmade calico sling until he was three months old!
Reading over this post, it sounds mean. And bitter. But I'm not those things, I promise. I'm just a changed, changed person. I'm no longer trusting of an outcome that most people think is inevitable. I am on autopilot with my negativity. Jaynie Seal who does the weather on one of the news programs announced the other day: "I'm having a baby."
100 points for guessing my automatic response to that announcement.
Pregnancy no longer equals baby for me, and I can imagine it is the same for other babylost mothers out there too.
I hope this negativity passes. I'm sure it cant be good for Rainbow Baby. I would turn myself inside out if it meant I had a guarantee that he or she was coming home.

See Baby This Week

Week 22

2010-10-31T13:15:00.000+11:00

I am having problems sleeping and it ruins my whole day. Being my third pregnancy, I guess everything is completely stretched out and the impact on my bladder is phenomenal. I find myself waking to use the toilet, which is disruptive enough. When I get back into bed, I try and feel the baby kick, and if it doesnt kick straight away, I find myself wide awake, changing positions to feel movement. The panic I feel when I dont feel movement for a while is awful. I eventually get up, drink milk and eat a biscuit, which gets Rainbow Baby wriggling around a fair bit. I also have a stash of Starburst lollies in the cupboard for that ultimate sugar boost to get the kid kicking. However, this baby already moves much more that Sybella ever did. Perhaps her lack of movement was a sign. I cant say, really. Maybe she was just a quiet little girl, and that was her personality. Or maybe her lack of movement was a clue to some sort of physical weakness. As you begin to feel movement in a pregnancy, it starts off gently and gets stronger as the weeks go on. With Sybella, her movements were the quintessential bubbly, twitchy feelings at first. But they never got any stronger than that, even late in the piece. Kelvin couldnt even feel her through my abdomen until I was 30 weeks pregnant. But now, at 22 weeks, I can feel jabs and punches through my stomach (although Kelvin cant yet) which is much more reassurring.
Apart from the lack of sleep, life is okay. Anxiety is still a day to day occurrance and I keep having curve balls thrown at me. The latest is Chicken Pox at Jack's preschool. The teachers rang me at home to tell me, the lovely ladies! Jack has been immunised and I have had the virus at age 13, a very bad dose. I had my immunity checked and I am immune. So I am not particularly worried about contracting it, although I do have my knickers in a knot regarding the immunisation status of the children at preschool. A very contentious issue, I am aware and I wont get into it here. But let me say that immunisation is something I am passionate about and as far as I am concerned, it is a community health issue. You only have to read the story of 5 week old Carter Dube and his death from Pertussis to know that. But what is more worriesome is the newish claims that Carter's contraction of Pertussis was due to seasonal pesticides usage in California. Okay....

Enough of that. It's my gripe. One of my "things." I dont mean to be controversial, but this is an important issue for me and one close to my heart.

Unfortunately, the Chicken Pox news coincides with super itchiness all over my body! However, this itchiness has come and gone throughout this pregnancy and I'm sure that the current source is pyschological. I have had dermatitis on my arm and right shoulder from day one of this pregnancy, so that explains that. I just wish for one week where I dont have a drama to write about! Although everything has gone well so far, it hasnt been without its complications.

Maybe I'm just one of those people who have dramatic pregnancies. I dont want to be one of them though. Then again, who does?

See Baby This Week

Week 21

2010-10-31T12:37:00.000+11:00

Why is there so much poo in my life?

As Sybella's pregnancy progressed, I became more and more anxious. As Rainbow Baby's pregnancy progresses, I become more confident. It is a slow moving confidence, and is interspersed with hysterical fears that have "normal" people rolling thier eyes. Fear provoked by incidents such as Jack getting dog crap all over his shoes and me going to great lengths to avoid "contamination." These compulsive actions include washing the shoes (or even throwing them out), showering me and Jack, mopping the floor in case any was tracked in the house...etc etc. These actions are odd. I am aware of that. Maybe even the parent of a stillborn baby who is engaged in a subsequent pregnancy will think these actions are beyond the boundaries of normal. I dont know. Everyone has their limits, and anxiety will push you beyond those limits if you let it. I just feel such an innate sense of responsibility towards this baby, its health and its safety. I will do anything to keep it safe. The responsibilty is almost a burden (for want of a better word) and so restrictive. Imagine if I lost this baby too? What is the saying? To lose one is bad luck, to lose two is careless. The world is a frightening place for a parent, especially one who has lost a child, when you take all the threats into account.
Animal poo seems to be a reccurring theme in my life. I dont even have a pet! But I cant escape it. If it isnt dog crap on Jack's shoes, then it is bird stuff all over the back pavers. Or cat stuff in the flower beds (which I go NOWHERE NEAR). Or snail shit in the letterbox. So much snail shit that it gets smeared all over my mail, especially when it rains. I ended up getting the mail with gloves on, and eventually had to get Kelvin to hose it out. Pellets dont seem to repel the snails, but after shaking half a kilo of salt in there, I seem to have found my repellant. They havent come back, but my mail is covered in salt. Better than snail faeces, anyway. Who knows what the postman thinks? Nutters in Number 4, that's for sure.

At the end of my 21st week, I was on my way home from The Boss. It was pouring rain and traffic was heavy. As I waited to turn left onto the highway, inching forward in a queue of cars, I turned around to check Jack as he had fallen asleep. And ran right up the back of the person in front. Huh.
It was such a tiny bump that neither car had any damage. Not even a paint scratch. But I got such a massive fright that my weekend was full of anxiety. I am sure that the worst that had happened was that Rainbow Baby was sloshed around a bit more than usual in the amniotic fluid, but I did get a bit worried about the seatbelt cutting into my lower abdomen. As it transpired, nothing came of my "car accident." The Boss, after ringing him, assured me that unless I had pain or bleeding, then all would be fine. But I had visions of an unknown placental abruption and other horrific scenarios.

Perhaps you are asking where is this "confidence" that I spoke about at the beginning of this post? Truthfully...I dont even know why I wrote that in the first place!!! Confidence, Shcmonfidence. Who am I kidding?

See Baby This Week

Week 20

2010-10-21T14:34:00.000+11:00

I am so in love. I havent let myself connect properly to this baby yet but I find the urge to bond is insurmountable. I love this baby. I am grateful for this new chance and new life. I look at the 3D ultraound photos all the time and marvel at how cute (!) this baby is already. I still have fear but it is habitual, I think. I know deep down that we will be welcoming this little one in February, and even consider having another natural birth...(as I had planned a c-section two weeks early out of fear). We will see when the time comes. I am learning to trust my instincts much more lately. This is thanks to Sybella. When I get to 34 weeks, that will be crunch time. If I start to panic, I will go ahead with the c-section at 38 weeks. If I feel calm, I will continue into natural labour when the time comes. One thing I know for sure is that I WONT be going past 40 weeks. At all. Since I have had a c-section already (with Jack) I cannot be induced, which means another c-section at 40 weeks anyway. So my options are a natural labour if it begins prior to 40 weeks, or a c-section if I a) am panicky after 34 weeks b) I am calm but gestation continues after 40 weeks. I will talk to The Boss about it.
I am very excited about our baby's name. They are the most beautiful names in the world, I think. I am so happy that I finally got Kelvin to agree to Reuben. I still may not have convinced him 100% but I am quietly confident! He was dead set against it. He said it sounded like a girl's name. I resigned myself to having to call our son "Bob" which is what Kelvin would use if he got his way. I sighed and put the name "Reuben" into a metaphorical box and let it go. Until Kelvin excitedly told me he had been listening to Kenny Rodger's song Reuben James and decided it was a strong name and he actually liked it. Um, thanks Kenny. Thanks, you Silver Fox, who can use the gift of song to convince my husband on his child's name...yet his own wife, bearer of his three children, cant. Geez!
The dreams have returned too. Good grief, do I have a cracker one night. I dreamed I was in hospital, still pregnant. I went into labour and just about everyone I knew was there for the occassion. Seriously, about 50 people. Even a couple of randoms were thrown in. The midwife was trying to find the heartbeat of the baby and asking me if I felt all right. She then told me that the baby's heartbeat was weak. I begged for fetal heart monitoring and a c-section but all she let me do was get into the shower. In the shower, my water broke and the entire bathtub filled with sludgy brown amniotic fluid. I woke up before the baby was born. Now, it wasnt distressing as such, but was incredibly vivid and played on my mind for ages. I really wish those dreams would stop! I do know that they are just dreams, my subconcious processing my anxiety. I have absolutely no belief that dreams hold any premonition or meaning. They are no indication of something that has happened or that will happen. If that were true, I would have cheated on Kelvin with Don Draper a thousand times by now...

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Week 19

2010-10-15T10:08:00.004+11:00

The week has arrived for our morphology scan. I havent slept properly in ages.
The night before I toss and turn, have horrible dreams and wake every half an hour. On the way there, Kelvin says he hopes we arent driving back afterwards feeling the same way we did after Sybella's last ultrasound. We arrive twenty minutes early and I sit in the waiting room, bladder full, jiggling my foot, perched on the very edge of my chair. The sonographer, (lets call her D) calls us in early. We explain our history and how we are supremely nervous. D assures me that she will talk through the whole scan with us. Immediately she points out the heartbeat, so that is a good start. D is a very experienced technician...she actually did Jack's morphology scan in 2005! She also scanned Sybella, two weeks before she died. At that scan, Sybella was thriving and growing well. She was in no way compromised. One would argue that D is not that experienced, given that she didnt pick up on Sybella, but truly, Sybella had no detectable problems and the doctor on duty confirmed this on the day of that second-last ultrasound.

D clicks through the images, measuring, looking...and I am sure she works quickly, yet methodically so that we dont worry. I know that when a technician stops, is silent and just stares at the screen that we have something to worry about. D, I think, purposely avoids doing this. I can tell, however, that she knows exactly what she is looking for and that that she knows exactly what she is doing. She chats to us, explaining each organ, what she is seeing, what the measurements are and how everything looks normal and within range at each point. D tells us about certain abnormalities and what they look for to diagnose them...for example, with Spina Bifida, babies with this defect often have Anencephaly, which is absence of the brain and/or skull. She shows us our baby's brain and formed skull, points out hemispheres and shows us that the measurments are good. So we can be completely sure that our baby doesnt have that particular anomaly. She does this for other problems too, she shows us each ventricle of the heart, each kidney (and this baby does not have Pyelectasis like Sybella did), we see the cutest little face in 2D and 3D. D is very happy with the baby's progress so far and says as much. Kelvin asks me if I want to find out the sex of the baby and I um and ahh about this. Right now, I feel perfectly content knowing that the baby is healthy and dont feel the desire to know the sex. I dont feel the overwhelming curiosity and impatience that I felt when finding out the sex of Jack and Sybella. D says that if I'm not sure about finding out, then dont. We decide to leave it be for now, and I know I have made the right choice. After this ultrasound, I feel so much happiness and peace. I feel completely content. After Sybella's 19 week ultrasound, I left feeling unsettled and uneasy. Which is why I requested another ultrasound at 24 weeks, where we found out about her Pyelectasis and what they think was an amniotic band in my uterus. This saw me spend the rest of her pregnancy in a fit of anxiety.

This baby, I know, is strong. He or she is coming, I know it. I see the baby, I see it's birth, I see myself breastfeeding. I could never do that with Sybella. And that make me so so sad. It is such a bittersweet time. I still grieve my little girl so much, but am completely in love with this new little life inside. It is hard to reconcile sometimes. When I feel sad, I think I am not giving Rainbow Baby a proper chance at connecting with me. When I spend time trying to feel kicks, and talk to Rainbow Baby, I feel like I am ignoring Sybella and her memory. I guess I will struggle with this for a while and probably need to go with it.

For those who were on the edge of their seat waiting to find out the sex of the baby (because I did say that I was going to find out earlier) my compensation is this...I will tell you the names we think we will use. Should the baby be a girl, her name is Imogen Scarlett. If the baby is a boy, we are fairly sure that his name is Reuben Elvis (I still need to convince Kelvin a bit on this). There is lots of fun in choosing names!

I wonder how long my peace and contentment will last...until I start to worry again?

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Week 18

2010-10-12T10:20:00.003+11:00

I have a week until my 19 week morphology ultrasound and I am not coping well. I am imagining every possible terrible scenario, from discovering no heartbeat, to finding a fatal problem that would lead to having to make the decision to terminate or not, to just finding one or more soft markers that could indicate a problematic issue. One scenario I dont consider is the one that involves walking out of the room with a clean bill of health. I dont even let myself believe that it could be the case.
I actually have no reason to think there might be a structural anomaly with the baby. The Boss has been checking the heartbeat via ultrasound every fortnight, so I have been seeing the normal growth progress of the baby. I had a very good result for my Nuchal Translucency scan. My fears are only based on my previous experience of stillbirth...however, even that doesnt give me a reason to think there is an issue, because Sybella's 19 week morphology scan was fine. At her birth, she was a normal, beautifully formed baby. No health issues were ever detected from any ultrasound, her appearance or her post mortem examination.

The fear remains, however.

The Boss, at a previous consultation, still cannot tell me what the sex of the baby is. I am wondering now if I am not supposed to find out, as twice now, bubs has kept it's bits a secret. I start to become worried about the possibility of having another girl. What if...the reason Sybella died was something to do with the fact that she was female? And it is a problem that medicine isnt advanced enough yet to know about? You know, how Hemophilia only affects males, but only females are the carriers? What if Bella's death was something similar to that?
The idea of the baby being a girl panics me so much that I discuss with Kelvin about not finding out the sex now...and just living in blissful ignorance...without adding another factor for anxiety into the mix. He says he will do whatever I want to do. Good man.
That said, my hunch is that the baby is a boy anyway. I am happy about that. The age gap between Jack and this baby will be 5 years exactly. If they are both boys, there is probably the potential for them to be closer, than if the baby were a girl. Hard to say, though. There is a 5 year age gap between my brother and I...and a 10 year gap between me and my youngest brother...and I think they are awesome. So it probably has more to do with the dynamics of the family, how relationships are promoted and individual personalities, as to whether siblings are close or not...female or male.
I dont know. I just ramble. We will get the perfect member for our family...the one that God deems the right fit. That's enough for me.

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Week 17

2010-09-29T19:02:00.000+10:00

I begin to figure out that not everyone knows I'm pregnant...especially those not in the "Facebook World."
I had my 30th birthday a week ago and one charming guest (no names) came up and said after my speech (which mentioned my bittersweet feelings about this pregnancy) and said "I had no idea you were pregnant!" The tone was jovial, joking. I nodded in assent. "Gee..." this guest continues, with a slap on my back and a huge guffaw, "I hope this one goes all right." Cue exit, guest wanders off, leaving me looking for the candid camera. This one? As opposed to Sybella, that one? The guest made it sound like we were talking about a birthday cake that had sunk. Not two baby's lives. My babies. It really makes me question the self awareness of others at times. It makes me tired of playing by the rules, stepping around other's feelings, not allowing them to feel uncomfortable in the presence of a stillbirth mother, making it okay for them. Most people are genuinely caring and honest and sympathetic. Others dont even stop to check themselves and then continue to give themselves permission to behave in an unthinking and uninsightful way by saying "well, that's just me. It's who I am." I dont know about anyone else, but I am a person who constantly tries to appraise my own behaviour, engage in self improvement, be conscious of the effect that my actions or words may have on other people and then adjust accordingly. It's disappointing to hear the cop-out from others "it's who I am, love it or leave it." I'm starting to leave it, truthfully!
Enough psychology. Judging from the above rant, one can come to the conclusion that I am feeling rather hormonal??? To the point where I am crying during Junior Masterchef. Yep. Those poor kids are under so much pressure! They cry...then I cry. I want to spirit them all away, feed them soup, tuck them onto the couch with a pillow and blanket and put on the Playhouse Disney channel. And not let them anywhere near a kitchen. Hormones? I think so.
Another appointment with The Boss (scheduled this time) shows a lovely beating heart and no call on whether Rainbow Baby is a boy or girl. His words are "not enough there to say it's a boy, but I wouldnt make a call on it being a girl either." What do you make of that? I'm a bit scared of the baby being a girl. This is weird, irrational reasoning...but I have given birth to a beautiful, healthy boy before, and so I know I can do that. Perhaps whatever it was that cause Sybella to die had something to do with her being a girl. Who knows? I just feel afraid that if this baby is a girl, she might have the same "problem" (whatever it was, as Sybella's stillbirth was unexplained) as Sybella. And possibly die. A boy, on the other hand, will leave me feeling much more confident about the outcome of this pregnancy. Anxiety...mixed with grief and hormones...makes for odd thinking. On the weekend, a friend said to me "God will choose, and has chosen the perfect new member of your family. This little one is the best fit for you and yours." I loved that. No mention of boy or girl, just a person. And like I said, it doesnt matter one iota to me what the sex of the baby is, but on some level, I think knowing the sex will help me bond with the baby. Once I knew Jack and Sybella were a boy and girl respectively, I began to bond with them as a real person, not an unknown entity in my womb. It helped me attribute a personality to the baby. And...of course, it helped me feed my Virgo neuroses and allowed me to plan accordingly. With this baby, I find myself engaging in self preservation by remaining somewhat detached. Of course, we love this baby and cant wait to meet him or her. But in the back of my mind, I fear another stillbirth and I try not to think of the baby as a real person...as if that would make it any easier if the worst was to happen. As a result, learning the baby's sex might help the baby seem more real to me and I will start to encompass the idea that we will meet him or her in February.
That said, this pregnancy already has such a different energy to Sybella's pregnancy. I dont know what that means, or whether it means anything at all. That's a more spiritual plane that I wont try and interpret or analyse right now.
However, I am very exhausted physically...I have been pregnant forever. All in all, I have spent 17 consecutive months pregnant.

I miss sushi.

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Week 16

2010-09-24T11:24:00.001+10:00

It has been a fairly uneventful week, drama wise! I suppose that is good. I start to think I can feel the baby kick! That is pretty exciting. I have had three major jabs in the mid-abdomen, and lots of fluttery, twitchy feelings in the lower abdomen. It starts to feel real to me now.

16 Weeks

Now, check out that picture. 16 weeks?! I look more like 30, if you ask me. I reconcile this by saying it's my third baby. Kelvin reconciles it by saying it's fat. Thanks buddy. (He's kidding, by the way).

I was having those bad dreams I mentioned in earlier posts. I ended up going to see The Boss for an unscheduled appointment because I was getting scared. We also had some bad news from a friend that their baby had a life threatening condition and they had no option but to interrupt the pregnancy. This news was devastating to hear, and while my heart went out to this couple, the psychological effects of the news played on my mind in regards to my own baby too.

My official morphology scan is in three weeks time, so I will get all the information then, but when The Boss does his little scan on his low resolution machine, everything seems fine. I ask him if he can see anything "pecker like"...but no luck. The baby has it's legs open and The Boss is looking hard, but there is nothing there, formed enough, to see at this stage. He cant even give me a guess, or a gut feeling. It just looks like a Barbie doll...smooth...

Being able to see Jack's pecker at 12 weeks, I begin to think the baby is a girl? Surely, by the formula, if we knew Jack was a boy at 12 weeks, surely we should be able to see if this baby is a boy at 16 weeks? Since there is no discernable penis to be seen, I am changing over to the girl camp. Once we know for certain, I will definitely post it...no surprises here! And I will post our most beautiful girl's name we have chosen too...(if it IS a girl, of course!)

Truthfully, the only reason I want to know the sex is curiosity and impatience. I will happily take either a boy or a girl, it doesnt faze me in the slightest. All I ask for is that he or she is breathing.

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Week 15

2010-09-19T16:30:00.001+10:00

Ah, the dreams. Some were about the baby, some were not. I had a couple of dreams bout being abducted and locked in a room alone for years and years. Perhaps my subconcious is telling me I feel trapped? Not "trapped" as such, more like emotionally restricted. Grief followed by and coupled with intense anxiety is enough for anyone. I also had a dream that I had a beautiful baby girl. I took her shopping with my mum and Jack...and I left her in the car the entire time! That was frightfully awful to wake up from. Of course, it is never something I would do in real life! So to dream it was terrible. Especially since I want this baby to be okay, so badly, that to dream that I wasnt adequately caring for her was distressing.

I am due to work for the next three weeks, which I am really looking forward to. I am working (I'm a teacher) four days a week at my old school that I worked at before I left to have Sybella. Unfortunately, a few days before I am due to start, I receive a phone call that Parvovirus B19 (Slapped Cheek/Fifth Disease) has broken out in the school. I am not immune to Parvovirus...I have had my levels checked. Parvovirus does not cause birth defects like Rubella or CMV, however, it can cause the foetus to aquire severe anaemia, which ultimately ends in foetal demise. After speaking with The Boss and the counsellors at Mothersafe, I tell the principal that I am unable to come into work. The chance of catching this virus is too high and I am not willing to take the risk. The principal completely understands, given my history, although we are both disappointed. I really could have used the money and the social interaction...not in that order! I find myself becoming very paranoid about getting ill after the Parvo situation. I am this close to wearing a mask when I go out! I remember being 29 weeks pregnant with Sybella and standing in line at Medicare. A kid was behind me in a supermarket trolley with his mother. He was making odd noises, so I turned around to see what the noises were and he spat on me! I never got sick from that, but worried about it a lot. Another child, while working at school during Sybella's pregnancy, sneezed on my arm and bucketloads of saliva and snot went all over me. If that happened now, I would have a mini heart attack, I know it.

So as a result, I avoid kids at the shops with any weird rashes, I talk to Jack's kindy teachers and ask them to give me a heads up if any kid comes down with a bad virus. I am going too far, I know it. But cant help it.

Jack and I saw this rainbow the other day. I like to think it is a sign that our Rainbow Baby is strong and healthy and getting ready to meet us.

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