Whatever happens…

This is not a post I ever expected to write, if I’m super honest. I’ll also be writing for quite a while before it ever sees the light, but I feel that whatever the outcome, I want a record. So I’ll try to write a bit everyday or every other day to keep up with where I’m at.

Friday 9 June 2017

I did a hpt and it took so long, but it came back with a clear but very faint line. I’d been spotting earlier in the week and I was due Friday. I wasn’t going to test for at least two weeks (having a miscarriage made me paranoid), but then I figured the sooner I test, the sooner it’s negative, the sooner my period would come and I could move on. Except, no. Super faint line. Positive test. Renewed freak out.

My first thought was that I’d already lost the baby and this is the result of residual hormones. I’m positive like that. So that’s how I shared my pee stick with my husband. Negatively. Then I took time to get my head straight, made lunch, Skyped my in-laws (just for company) and told hubby we needed to do bloods and talk after.

So we did bloods and got our results in 30 minutes. Positive, but the hormone levels were even lower than they were when we did bloods after I’d miscarried – by a LOT. So I freaked out more, did more research and more comparisons and pretended my mind was at ease. It wasn’t. So we decided to wait until Monday to test again and see if we get a stronger positive before we get all rash. In the meantime, we’re going with pregnant and not talking about it.

Saturday 10 June 2017

Are we betraying our little girl by having another baby? We’re both essentially only kids (I’m not, but the age gap is so big, that I may as well be) and not the I-always-yearned-for-a-sibling type, either. So it feels a bit like we’re screwing our precious child over, even though we always said two. Twins would really have been ideal. Also, I know all parents say this, but our kid is amazing. What if no.2 is completely the opposite?

And then the light pinkish spotting. Cue total freak out. I’m pretending to be calm over here, but I am not sure I can survive another miscarriage. I don’t know if having another child is “right”, but I do know I don’t want to lose him/her. (As a matter of interest, the pregnancy was not an “accident”, it was well thought through and discussed and agreed upon)

Sunday 11 June 2017

Another small bit of spotting, another freak out, another double check on hcg levels in super early pregnancy. I didn’t talk to hubby about it this time. It feels a bit like my body is solely responsible for keeping the baby alive. I’m responsible for all our futures and to 3 people other than myself and that’s a lot. I don’t want to keep bugging him with my issues, but I know I must.

Tomorrow’s hpt is lying ready for the retest. If all is well, my contract stipulates that I must inform my superiors the moment I am aware I’m pregnant, so that’s fun for first thing on a Monday. That or needing to request a leave day to deal with losing another baby. Yay me! Yeah, still not super positive. But I WANT to believe. I have the pregnant feeling and I want to be right and just go with it. I really do. And that’s exactly what scares me.

Monday 12 June 2017

Today I’m tired. I almost didn’t write. I’m mostly tired of being scared. I did another test first thing and it’s definitely darker, but I’m still scared. We told our parents and they’re so excited and that just makes it worse.

Our daughter has gone off her head. She’s become super clingy with me. I don’t know if she somehow knows. Work is quite difficult now too, with a toddler and early pregnancy fears to be all distracting. And I’m apparently already in nesting mode. Go figure. That’s me for today.

Tuesday 13 June 2017

Today was a good day. I mostly didn’t think about pregnancy other than peeing a lot. Did that start this early last time? And a brief mention at the end of a Skype chat with my in laws.

I didn’t Google hormone levels even once. But I am starting to get sick of everyone being sick. I have cabin fever and desperately want to rejoin dance classes. I need to move and not feel so sluggish.

Little O and I had a great play session on the floor. She’s very keen on animals and books so the combo of zoo playmat, My 101 First Animals book and Mommy’s old suitcase of plastic animals is a huge winner and an educational opportunity. My mind is blown by how much she already knows.

Friday 16 June 2017

So on Wednesday  I did yet another hpt. I needed the reassurance so I did it and it was positive with a wonderfully strong line. And yesterday I finally managed to make an appointment with the doctor. Amusingly (not really), she can only see me around 9 1/2 weeks, so I have to wait a little longer than I’d hoped to get fully checked out.

During my pregnancy with O, every scan scared me stupid, especially the first two, one of which was with the maternal-fetal specialist. I am admittedly scared again, but was hoping to get it done sooner rather than later.

Today was not the best day for feelings, though it was mostly a good day with O. Hubby and I had a tiff this evening, I’m exhausted, mildly nauseous and generally feeling a lot of trepidation around this pregnancy. Every small change I feel in my body freaks me out and sends me scampering for the bathroom. I also feel like I’m generally failing at parenting O, and that saddens me a great deal.

Saturday 17 June 2017

OMG! I forgot about the reflux! I’m pretty sure it didn’t hit this early last time. My esophagus is on fire, I can only be in a certain position, which means I can’t fetch the antacids, and any pressure makes me want to barf. Guess where the cats want to be… cats are arseholes. I feel ill enough that I’m trembling as I type this. I’m having serious flashbacks of why I lost weight during pregnancy – salad and white meat don’t induce reflux.

Also, I decided I don’t like the girl name we’ve had picked out since 2010. It’s no good. We need to pick a new one. Right. F***ing. Now.

Please excuse me, I need to get back to my pity party….

Monday 19 June 2017

It’s another month of my rambling post, before I see the OB/GYN. Fortunately for anyone reading this horribly long post, I’m already slipping.

So. Morning sick. 5 1/2 weeks and I want to barf on everything at the slightest provocation. Also, I refuse to open the fridge, because I can see the food in there and it’s all disgusting to my pregnant mind. So hubby has to fetch all my food. It pretty much consists of chicken, veg – raw or roasted – and mayo. At least pregnancy cleans up my diet. 

And can we talk about the peeing? That’s really what gave it away, the constant peeing.

Anyway. I’m not coherent. 

Monday 03 July 2017

Just over 2 weeks till I finally get to see the doctor. I’ve been in hiding from writing, from my mind, from life.

My morning sickness comes and goes and that scares me, a lot. I have discharge and that scares me. I don’t feel pregnant and that scares me. I feel like death and THAT scares me. It has taken a supreme effort of will not to demand another blood test. Not to go buy my 4th hpt. I really don’t want to walk into a doctor’s office filled with hope and leave full of emptiness again. So much so that I intend asking the doc if we can just do the ultrasound before we talk about anything. I hope she’ll understand. 

Anyway, I just needed to put that down here. I’m off again.

Tuesday 11 July 2017

Today we are down with the man flu. My pregnant, morning sick ass does not have the required capacity for empathy required to deal with man flu.

I managed a 30 minutes cuddle and commiserate and to dress myself appropriately to go out and buy the makings of man flu cure soup and to actually make it. But halfway through cooking, when I realised our daughter was literally playing in the dark upstairs, because her dad was being too pathetic to switch on the light, my empathy and sympathy ran clear out.

So now we’re both grumpy and she’s asleep. I guess one win is something. 

Sunday 23 July 2017

Hahaha, just reread that last bit. Man-flu turned out to be seriously sick. Followed by our munchkin hitting a 2 degree fever spike the Friday. Followed by me being laid flat the Sunday and eventually having to take time off work. 

So we went to see the doctor lady and we got to see our baby! And my one colleague turns out to be mere weeks ahead of me. So much excitement in this house right now. I finally feel like I can go with it.

We also decided screw it and told everybody, so yay!

AND we’re totally dancing our first comp in 6 years with me 12-13 weeks knocked up. The Samba is going to be interesting…

And that, really, is the end of my eternal (feels like) diary post.


It’s not a well paved road

Ten years. Ten years ago today I made some changes. Ten years ago today, a broken girl started putting the pieces back together.

Early on a Sunday morning exactly ten years ago, a broken girl decided to do something, so she dumped all her laundry out of her boyfriend’s laundry bag, folded up the bag, stuck it under her arm and took the walk to the laundry. At the laundry, she handed him the bag, looked him in the eye and told him that no matter how much she loved him, she couldn’t do this anymore. She just couldn’t be with him, it was destroying her. And so, in tears, she turned on her heel and walked back home. She knew herself well enough to take precautions against just going back if he begged or made excuses, so on her way home, she made a few phone calls to inform the important people of what she had done. It felt like that was the only safeguard and there was quite a bit of shock from the people she told, but she absorbed it and kept going, because she knew she deserved better.

I won’t bore you with the rest of the details. I’ll tell you that the next few months were a living hell. I was struggling to reconnect with myself, make new friends outside the dating circle, work and simultaneously deal with my ex stalking me. I was afraid to go out, I was tired of trying to explain and I lived in constant apprehension of the begging/hurling abuse roller coaster. I spent many of my days sobbing as one abusive message after another came through via text and email and I once even got a 06:00 wakeup call on a Saturday morning from his mom. I endured suicide threats, death threats against all my male acquaintances and him pitching up at my office at random times.

I lost 75% of my friends, because abusers often look like saints to the rest of the world, so this was clearly me being a bitch. More than a year later, a mutual friend told me that he still bamed me for “breaking the man”. That my leaving him had broken him and our friend would never forgive me that. I stood there, trembling with frustration and hurt and told him that I didn’t hold that against him, as I know he has no idea. He again informed me that I had broken his friend and he (my ex) was still hurting, still broken, still loved me so. At this point I lost my shit, I’m afraid. “We’ll, you didn’t have to live with his abuse”, I hurled back, “besides, he’s engaged now, so he’ll just need to get the hell over it!” I figured that would end the conversation, but there was one parting shot “Do you think she doesn’t know? Imagine how she feels”

I tell you that story, not to soothe my ego, but to illustrate how abuse is not a single thing by a single person. There is always some form of secondary victimisation, especially when the abuser is so adept at playing the victim card. Somehow, after years of emotional abuse and months of psychological warfare, I was the bad guy for calling it quits. That hurt more than all the crap my ex ever gave me.

So I’ll tell you this. When a woman finally walks away, know how much courage that takes. Know that the road ahead is going to be as hard as the relationship behind, possibly harder. Know that she didn’t just decide that moment. Know that abuse is insidious and that she likely only figured it out when it was nearly too late or already too late. Know that she’s a survivor and a fighter, not a victim. And please, please don’t ask her what took so long.

It’s been a decade and as I write this, my baby sleeps in the next room, my wonderful husband is sleeping next to me and I’m surrounded by three furry babies. I got lucky, I managed to pick up the pieces and mostly put them back together. That said, I have no illusions of how close I was to missing the exit. So today, I think of all those who are still figuring it out.