38

I was 38 weeks pregnant yesterday.  I don't think there could possibly be any more room for my body to expand...

...My tummy is as hard as a rock.  At times the shape of it is quite lopsided and I can sit there at night and watch it change shape.  Pretty freaky stuff really.  Monet gets quite a thrill when she sees it move and none of us can wait to meet this newbie.

I'm having a funny week.  I know all about hormones and what they do to you when pregnant, but I have also been thinking a lot about my previous pregnancy and this was the week last year, which is etched terribly into my mind.  Probably the worst week of my life to be honest.  

Even though I never try and dwell on the past, I did want to share my story with you of what happened....

When given our options last year, the Cairns Base Hospital were truly wonderful.  As much bagging that hospital does get at times (you have to be a FNQ-er to understand) they were terrific.  As I opted for a CVS (Chorionic Villus Sampling), the hospital flew me down to Brisbane for the day as that procedure is not done at Cairns.   The risk of doing the CVS was something we had considered.  Statistics show that there is a small percentage of miscarriage in doing the procedure (waters could break) but Lyndon and I felt that we 'had' to know how our baby was.  The next possible test could only be done a few weeks later and we felt we didn't have time.  We would not have been able to relax...

I went alone, even though Lyndon was keen to go, I knew this was something I had to do by myself.  I like to 'stress' alone and I knew I would be stressed and anything I was feeling, poor innocent Lyndon would get the brunt of it.  

I had the procedure done and I can honestly say it was the most painful procedure I had ever endured.  Worst than childbirth!  People told me, oh no, it isn't painful, but let me tell you - I thought it was!   I left the hospital and headed back to the airport feeling confident.  I was so glad the procedure was done and dusted and actually felt calm and happy.  (Probably more relieved than anything).  I was back on the plane before I knew it and back to my little family.

I was told to take it easy, which I was, when the following lunch time I felt big pains.  Big pains.  I was told this could happen.  I went and laid down but the pain wouldn't stop.  Lyndon forced me to ring up the hospital who told me to come in.  We drove in and went to Emergency.  I was seen quickly (got obs done) then waited again in the waiting room.  Lyndon had taken Monet out for a walk and run around on the Esplanade, I went to the toilet.  I discovered I was bleeding and then I was taken immediately into the Emergency ward, once I called Lyndon to return.  

I can remember the pain - oh the pain - and was given doses of morphine (hello!) to stop it, which it did.  My Obstetrician came and they could still find a heartbeat on the fetus, much to my relief.  But being a late Saturday they could not get a sonographer in to take a proper look.  I was seen by numerous doctors, nurses who were all great and it was decided that I should stay in hospital for observation.  I was given a drip and was wheeled away into a ward to spend the night.  And the next day.  

I was the first patient the sonographer saw on the Monday morning and I will never forget being wheeled down and being told that no heartbeat could be found.  I had known inside that the baby had died, but to have it confirmed was dreadful.  So dreadful.  I remember sitting back in the wheelchair and waiting for someone to take me back up into my ward, crying my eyes out.  One nurse walked by and gave me some comfort - though she had no idea why I was blubbering away, I was so grateful for her shoulder.  And the box of tissues she offered.

To cut a long story short, the following day I was induced (after some counselling) and ended up having to have a curet at around midnight.  

I had spent 5 days, 4 nights in hospital and was relieved to be able to go home, back to my daughter and husband and my waiting mother.  

The weeks that followed I was given much support and sympathy (many of you included, especially Trish & Lani), but I also felt guilt about having the CVS, which deep down I knew caused me to miscarriage at 14 weeks. 

At least the organising of moving to Abu Dhabi kept my mind occupied.  I did receive a phone call from the hospital telling me my results were in.  I wasn't ready (as such) to be told about the fetus, I opted my results be sent to my parent's address in Victoria, where I would be in a week or so.  I knew then, I could open the envelope in private and deal with what was on the paper as best as I could.  

When I did open that envelope in the weeks that followed, I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders.  Physically.  And mentally.   My results showed that the fetus had Trisomy 18.  Just one of those things that happen at conception and not hereditary.  Just. One. Of. Those. Things. 

In a way I am glad that I had to go through what I did.  Made me appreciate this pregnancy more and it made me so much more aware how precious actually having a baby/child actually is.  As much as I might whinge about this big lump of a body with this big bubba inside, I could not be more pleased.  Or happier.