When I started this blog it was to help me through a difficult time in my life. It has been a prop, a sounding board and a great source of support. Thank you so much to my followers and commenters, every word you have written has meant a great deal to me.
But now I am in such a different place. Our second daughter is safely here and we are all facing big changes, not least moving to a new county. I have decided to start a new blog to mark this fresh start. I may come back and write here again in future but for the time being I am going to stop posting here.
I won't refer to this blog in my new one to keep this content separate from the next chapter. But I am very happy for anyone here to follow our ongoing story.
So for the next instalments, please click over to the new blog here.
Best of luck to those still on their infertility journey. However your story ends, I wish you peace.
Sunday, 24 July 2011
Wednesday, 20 July 2011
Saying goodbye to Maria
This morning I had my final follow up session with my therapist, Maria. It's been several weeks since our last session and they have been pretty eventful!
We discussed how the last few weeks have gone, what techniques I have used to manage my worries and how I'm feeling about various aspects of the future. It was easy to see how much my reactions to anxiety have changed over the last year.
I spoke about lots of topics and saw how I am now able to take a step back and introduce a degree of rationality into my worries as a first step to breaking them down. When I feel under pressure now I always ask myself, "Who is making you do this?" Sure enough, most of the time it's only me.
The most striking difference is how I feel about Abigail. She's no longer a precious object I'm sure I'm going to break or lose. I see her as her own person with a real future, not just the baby she is today but the child she will be and the amazing woman we believe she will become.
I haven't changed who I am. I still worry about things and feel driven to be as perfect as I can. I dislike asking for help and giving other people control over things in my life. But I can now balance this to ensure I don't burn out or fall back into continuous sadness and feelings of inadequacy.
As I was leaving I said how Maria's job is about helping people get to the point where they don't need to see her anymore. I am reaching the end of so many things - life in London, longing for a second child, full-time work. This was the first of many goodbyes.
It also helped me decide that I'm definitely going to stop posting on this blog soon, for the time being at least. But I am also going to start a new one. When that is up and running I'll put a link here for anyone who would like to keep following our new adventures!
We discussed how the last few weeks have gone, what techniques I have used to manage my worries and how I'm feeling about various aspects of the future. It was easy to see how much my reactions to anxiety have changed over the last year.
I spoke about lots of topics and saw how I am now able to take a step back and introduce a degree of rationality into my worries as a first step to breaking them down. When I feel under pressure now I always ask myself, "Who is making you do this?" Sure enough, most of the time it's only me.
The most striking difference is how I feel about Abigail. She's no longer a precious object I'm sure I'm going to break or lose. I see her as her own person with a real future, not just the baby she is today but the child she will be and the amazing woman we believe she will become.
I haven't changed who I am. I still worry about things and feel driven to be as perfect as I can. I dislike asking for help and giving other people control over things in my life. But I can now balance this to ensure I don't burn out or fall back into continuous sadness and feelings of inadequacy.
As I was leaving I said how Maria's job is about helping people get to the point where they don't need to see her anymore. I am reaching the end of so many things - life in London, longing for a second child, full-time work. This was the first of many goodbyes.
It also helped me decide that I'm definitely going to stop posting on this blog soon, for the time being at least. But I am also going to start a new one. When that is up and running I'll put a link here for anyone who would like to keep following our new adventures!
Friday, 15 July 2011
Supermum fail
Abigail is four weeks old and a total treasure.
She sleeps and eats well. Her rare long screaming fits are always wind pain which can be soothed by changing positions. OK, so two hours of moving her about and soothing her in the middle of the night isn't easy but it's nothing like real colic and I am very grateful.
Recovery is almost complete and I've been out and about a lot. This is a total change from first time around, so I've been feeling great. I'd be doing even better if I could get over my inability to nap during the day but I'm working on it!
We are with my parents for a few days and had got the buggy delivered here ahead of our big move in a few weeks' time. So last night I decided to break out the buggy and put it together. I am the least techinically-minded person in the world but I was determined to succeed.
So in a ridiculously overconfident but somewhat tired haze, I opened the box and slid the components out. And the front wheel rolled out, bounced once and hit my sister's freestanding mirror. I watched it topple in slow motion and smash into dozens of lethal shards and hundreds of splinters all over the top of the stairs...
Lesson learned. Tonight I am handing over the night shift to my husband and getting more than 4 consecutive hours sleep for the first time in a long while.
But the buggy turned out beautifully in the end!
She sleeps and eats well. Her rare long screaming fits are always wind pain which can be soothed by changing positions. OK, so two hours of moving her about and soothing her in the middle of the night isn't easy but it's nothing like real colic and I am very grateful.
Recovery is almost complete and I've been out and about a lot. This is a total change from first time around, so I've been feeling great. I'd be doing even better if I could get over my inability to nap during the day but I'm working on it!
We are with my parents for a few days and had got the buggy delivered here ahead of our big move in a few weeks' time. So last night I decided to break out the buggy and put it together. I am the least techinically-minded person in the world but I was determined to succeed.
So in a ridiculously overconfident but somewhat tired haze, I opened the box and slid the components out. And the front wheel rolled out, bounced once and hit my sister's freestanding mirror. I watched it topple in slow motion and smash into dozens of lethal shards and hundreds of splinters all over the top of the stairs...
Lesson learned. Tonight I am handing over the night shift to my husband and getting more than 4 consecutive hours sleep for the first time in a long while.
But the buggy turned out beautifully in the end!
Sunday, 26 June 2011
Perfect moment
On every journey there is a longing to be somewhere it will make sense. It might not be the end of the road but it's a place of peace.
Today is my seventh wedding anniversary and I am at home with my beautiful family. We are about to start a new adventure - moving home, changing career, starting school and adjusting to the world.
We are happy and, above all, still hopeful.
On a day like today, you never want to see the sun go down
Today is my seventh wedding anniversary and I am at home with my beautiful family. We are about to start a new adventure - moving home, changing career, starting school and adjusting to the world.
We are happy and, above all, still hopeful.
On a day like today, you never want to see the sun go down
Friday, 24 June 2011
One week later
What Abigail and I have learned so far:
Writing things down lets Abigail set the pace while easing mummy's desire to be in control of everything.
It's OK to live in pyjamas for a while, but a good idea to shower and change every day to pretend you aren't!
Hand expressing produces just enough milk in 45 minutes to drink in two quick gulps.
Having a baby just before Wimbledon starts is brilliant timing - who wouldn't want to spend hours playing or cuddling on the sofa while the tennis is on?
Daddy is the best at playing Abigail games (mummy doesn't have the imagination).
Big sister is brilliant and helpful and is going to be such a wonderful part of Abigail's life.
Writing things down lets Abigail set the pace while easing mummy's desire to be in control of everything.
It's OK to live in pyjamas for a while, but a good idea to shower and change every day to pretend you aren't!
Hand expressing produces just enough milk in 45 minutes to drink in two quick gulps.
Having a baby just before Wimbledon starts is brilliant timing - who wouldn't want to spend hours playing or cuddling on the sofa while the tennis is on?
Daddy is the best at playing Abigail games (mummy doesn't have the imagination).
Big sister is brilliant and helpful and is going to be such a wonderful part of Abigail's life.
Wednesday, 22 June 2011
Abigail’s birth story
Our long journey to our beautiful second daughter is finally over. We are starting out on a new adventure as a family of four and everything feels so right. But I won’t forget how difficult it was to get here.
I’m not sure what this blog will become - I don’t even know if I’ll keep writing here, leave it open or close it completely. I do feel there is a little bit of housekeeping to be done before I let it go. The first thing is for me to record how Abigail eventually arrived. As is traditional on baby blogs, it’s long and involved and very honest – you have been warned!
Abigail was born on Friday 17 June 2011. This is her story.
On Thursday afternoon I was experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions again but nothing any different from before. I had a long bath and for some reason cleaned the bathroom while I was there as I just felt like it needed doing!
Later that night we were all watching television together and I was sitting on the birth ball. I got up to clean my teeth and go to bed around 9pm. While I was standing at the sink I suddenly felt a very strong back pain and had to lean over the side of the bath. I couldn’t stand up without it feeling much worse.
This went on solidly for 45 minutes, not really like I was expecting contractions to be. At ten o’clock I took two paracetamol and went to lie down on the sofa. My husband turned the front room into a dark and quiet space, putting blankets on the floor for me to kneel on and setting out the birth ball. I put on some music and alternated between kneeling over the ball or on the floor, and lying down trying to rest.
At 12.30, while I was trying to doze between contractions, I noticed them suddenly ramp up again. I couldn’t lie down any more and had to kneel. The pain was only manageable when I was kneeling and I couldn’t physically move into any other position when it was strong. My back was aching constantly and the contractions were strong and all round my bump, not just at the top as the earlier ones had been. Luckily I had with me an expert at back rubs who could massage the base of my spine whenever it got too much!
Time was going by and I hadn’t started timing anything yet as I didn’t want to start worrying about how long or often the contractions were. I just wanted to let my body get on with it in the early stages without my mind getting in the way and slowing things down.
At 1.45am we decided this couldn’t possibly be a false alarm so called my parents to come and look after our daughter while we went to hospital. They live three hours away so we wanted to give them plenty of time to arrive.
Between 2am and 2.30 I felt as though time was going really slowly and started to think about when to call the hospital. I took a couple more paracetamol and noticed again how I couldn’t get off my knees when contracting – I just had to stay in the position my body demanded. We were very aware that going to hospital too soon would mean coming home again so we rang them at 3am to check what the midwife thought. She asked how frequent the contractions were and how long they were which we couldn’t accurately say so she told us to check and call back in half an hour.
From that point I really started paying attention and noticed how there was a bit of warning before each one, then an intense sensation, then fading away to just the aching back. But the surprise was that they were every 2-3 minutes (closer to 2 than 3) and around a minute long. This was much closer than I had thought. My plan to relax and let things go their own way seemed to be working a bit too well!
When my husband called the hospital again, the midwife said to come in straight away. By this point I wasn’t able to just breathe through the sensations any more, and what with the frequency of them and what the midwife could hear of me in the background she was definite that we shouldn’t wait any longer. My dear friend A, who had been on standby for weeks and who I can never thank enough, answered our call for help and rushed round as it looked like we hadn’t left as much time as we had thought for mum and dad to arrive. I remember giving her a hug and fleeing to the taxi but even in those few minutes I had three contractions.
The taxi ride at 4am should take about 5 minutes and we were a bit longer as we hit all the red lights – of course! Three contractions in the taxi, hugging my pillow and getting my back rubbed, then rushing in to the hospital. We arrived at about 4.15 and from that point things went a bit crazy.
We arrived at the birth centre and for me it’s a bit of a blur. I was losing track of time but pretty sure things were happening fast. My husband was talking to the midwife in reception who was trying to get me taken across to the home from home unit. I vaguely heard her talking repeatedly on the phone about a lady who was “distressed” and realised it was me.
A few minutes later we were moving along the corridor in short stages. The midwife stood next to me while I was propped up on the wall and just murmured quietly, “Well done, well done” which was very soothing. We made it to my room and I got two new midwives. I went through to the bathroom to change but suddenly got very sure this wasn’t the right place to be. Something about the way I shouted made the midwife yell “Get on the bed!”
So I was kneeling upright over the top half of the bed which was elevated like a dentist chair, with my back to everyone. The midwife in charge was trying to get me to turn over to be examined but there was no way I could move. She tried to find the baby’s heartbeat but couldn’t get in the right position.
My husband had been reassuring me while trying to get some gas and air for me – the entonox is piped into the rooms but there weren’t any tubes or mouthpieces ready. Then a third midwife appeared and he asked if I could have the gas... but the first midwife just said, “No time, baby is coming right now.”
Well, I am not really clear about much of the next few minutes. The combination of realising I wasn’t getting any pain relief, shock at how quickly things were going and sensing the anxiety of the lead midwife had really put me over the edge. A shouted conversation between us would give a flavour of the mood:
Me (yelling I think): I don’t know what you want me to do.
Midwife: Push. But not too hard or you’ll get a really big tear! Don’t scream, you’re wasting energy! Turn round! Are you having a contraction? Tell me when you’re having a contraction. Baby is coming now!
I think she was more panicky than me. But I don’t suppose they deliver many babies with absolutely no information, other than that this is happening right now. I hadn’t been examined, they hadn’t seen my notes (still in my bag), she had no idea how the baby was doing.
I shut my eyes and realised we were just going to have to get on with it. An image came into my mind of a white hot circle which expanded with each contraction and then got smaller again. The hardest part was knowing that circle would have to get bigger than it had so far. Every time a contraction faded, the circle shrank. I knew I’d have to get that far and then a bit further to finish this. For all the pros and cons of medicated birth, last time I did this I had an epidural to get me through this bit!
Finally, two contractions for the head, a burbling noise rather than a cry as Abigail introduced herself to her dad! Shoulder (ouch), then baby. Waters had broken just before and although I had no idea at the time, there was lots of meconium there. A new midwife was calmly explaining to me why she had brought in the baby resuscitator but I didn’t really understand what she was saying – luckily Abigail never needed it.
A very weird time came next, finally turning round to face everyone, lying back and just being glad it was over. My husband was able to cut the cord, which was something we’d never thought we were bothered about but he was really pleased with. Occasional moments of sharp clarity, but only when I was asked a direct question – did I want a managed third stage? Was the baby having a vitamin K injection? Was I happy not to have stitches for my very small tear? Third stage complete, Abigail having a cuddle with Daddy and for the first time there was nothing I had to do or decide. Phew.
I don’t remember the first time I saw Abigail.
I don’t remember an intense ‘baby rush’ where I was overcome with emotion.
I don’t really remember much now about the pain.
But I do remember the intense satisfaction of knowing her dad was holding her and I didn’t have to worry. I remember the midwife encouraging me to get up and shower, opening my bag for the first time and being detached but amused looking at all the things we’d carefully packed for a long labour in hospital. I got back into bed feeling fresher and as comfortable as possible, finally able to rest.
Abigail automatically had to stay for 24 hours for observations due to the meconium. She was absolutely fine but her temperature was a touch low... so we got to cuddle skin to skin for most of the day to warm her up a bit. We stayed in our room overlooking the Houses of Parliament overnight, where I could look at the lights reflected in the river when I couldn’t sleep.
Realising she was mine and finally believing I would get to keep her was a gradual process. It felt like slowly waking up from a fading dream to a beautiful sunny morning.
I’m not sure what this blog will become - I don’t even know if I’ll keep writing here, leave it open or close it completely. I do feel there is a little bit of housekeeping to be done before I let it go. The first thing is for me to record how Abigail eventually arrived. As is traditional on baby blogs, it’s long and involved and very honest – you have been warned!
Abigail was born on Friday 17 June 2011. This is her story.
On Thursday afternoon I was experiencing Braxton Hicks contractions again but nothing any different from before. I had a long bath and for some reason cleaned the bathroom while I was there as I just felt like it needed doing!
Later that night we were all watching television together and I was sitting on the birth ball. I got up to clean my teeth and go to bed around 9pm. While I was standing at the sink I suddenly felt a very strong back pain and had to lean over the side of the bath. I couldn’t stand up without it feeling much worse.
This went on solidly for 45 minutes, not really like I was expecting contractions to be. At ten o’clock I took two paracetamol and went to lie down on the sofa. My husband turned the front room into a dark and quiet space, putting blankets on the floor for me to kneel on and setting out the birth ball. I put on some music and alternated between kneeling over the ball or on the floor, and lying down trying to rest.
At 12.30, while I was trying to doze between contractions, I noticed them suddenly ramp up again. I couldn’t lie down any more and had to kneel. The pain was only manageable when I was kneeling and I couldn’t physically move into any other position when it was strong. My back was aching constantly and the contractions were strong and all round my bump, not just at the top as the earlier ones had been. Luckily I had with me an expert at back rubs who could massage the base of my spine whenever it got too much!
Time was going by and I hadn’t started timing anything yet as I didn’t want to start worrying about how long or often the contractions were. I just wanted to let my body get on with it in the early stages without my mind getting in the way and slowing things down.
At 1.45am we decided this couldn’t possibly be a false alarm so called my parents to come and look after our daughter while we went to hospital. They live three hours away so we wanted to give them plenty of time to arrive.
Between 2am and 2.30 I felt as though time was going really slowly and started to think about when to call the hospital. I took a couple more paracetamol and noticed again how I couldn’t get off my knees when contracting – I just had to stay in the position my body demanded. We were very aware that going to hospital too soon would mean coming home again so we rang them at 3am to check what the midwife thought. She asked how frequent the contractions were and how long they were which we couldn’t accurately say so she told us to check and call back in half an hour.
From that point I really started paying attention and noticed how there was a bit of warning before each one, then an intense sensation, then fading away to just the aching back. But the surprise was that they were every 2-3 minutes (closer to 2 than 3) and around a minute long. This was much closer than I had thought. My plan to relax and let things go their own way seemed to be working a bit too well!
When my husband called the hospital again, the midwife said to come in straight away. By this point I wasn’t able to just breathe through the sensations any more, and what with the frequency of them and what the midwife could hear of me in the background she was definite that we shouldn’t wait any longer. My dear friend A, who had been on standby for weeks and who I can never thank enough, answered our call for help and rushed round as it looked like we hadn’t left as much time as we had thought for mum and dad to arrive. I remember giving her a hug and fleeing to the taxi but even in those few minutes I had three contractions.
The taxi ride at 4am should take about 5 minutes and we were a bit longer as we hit all the red lights – of course! Three contractions in the taxi, hugging my pillow and getting my back rubbed, then rushing in to the hospital. We arrived at about 4.15 and from that point things went a bit crazy.
We arrived at the birth centre and for me it’s a bit of a blur. I was losing track of time but pretty sure things were happening fast. My husband was talking to the midwife in reception who was trying to get me taken across to the home from home unit. I vaguely heard her talking repeatedly on the phone about a lady who was “distressed” and realised it was me.
A few minutes later we were moving along the corridor in short stages. The midwife stood next to me while I was propped up on the wall and just murmured quietly, “Well done, well done” which was very soothing. We made it to my room and I got two new midwives. I went through to the bathroom to change but suddenly got very sure this wasn’t the right place to be. Something about the way I shouted made the midwife yell “Get on the bed!”
So I was kneeling upright over the top half of the bed which was elevated like a dentist chair, with my back to everyone. The midwife in charge was trying to get me to turn over to be examined but there was no way I could move. She tried to find the baby’s heartbeat but couldn’t get in the right position.
My husband had been reassuring me while trying to get some gas and air for me – the entonox is piped into the rooms but there weren’t any tubes or mouthpieces ready. Then a third midwife appeared and he asked if I could have the gas... but the first midwife just said, “No time, baby is coming right now.”
Well, I am not really clear about much of the next few minutes. The combination of realising I wasn’t getting any pain relief, shock at how quickly things were going and sensing the anxiety of the lead midwife had really put me over the edge. A shouted conversation between us would give a flavour of the mood:
Me (yelling I think): I don’t know what you want me to do.
Midwife: Push. But not too hard or you’ll get a really big tear! Don’t scream, you’re wasting energy! Turn round! Are you having a contraction? Tell me when you’re having a contraction. Baby is coming now!
I think she was more panicky than me. But I don’t suppose they deliver many babies with absolutely no information, other than that this is happening right now. I hadn’t been examined, they hadn’t seen my notes (still in my bag), she had no idea how the baby was doing.
I shut my eyes and realised we were just going to have to get on with it. An image came into my mind of a white hot circle which expanded with each contraction and then got smaller again. The hardest part was knowing that circle would have to get bigger than it had so far. Every time a contraction faded, the circle shrank. I knew I’d have to get that far and then a bit further to finish this. For all the pros and cons of medicated birth, last time I did this I had an epidural to get me through this bit!
Finally, two contractions for the head, a burbling noise rather than a cry as Abigail introduced herself to her dad! Shoulder (ouch), then baby. Waters had broken just before and although I had no idea at the time, there was lots of meconium there. A new midwife was calmly explaining to me why she had brought in the baby resuscitator but I didn’t really understand what she was saying – luckily Abigail never needed it.
A very weird time came next, finally turning round to face everyone, lying back and just being glad it was over. My husband was able to cut the cord, which was something we’d never thought we were bothered about but he was really pleased with. Occasional moments of sharp clarity, but only when I was asked a direct question – did I want a managed third stage? Was the baby having a vitamin K injection? Was I happy not to have stitches for my very small tear? Third stage complete, Abigail having a cuddle with Daddy and for the first time there was nothing I had to do or decide. Phew.
I don’t remember the first time I saw Abigail.
I don’t remember an intense ‘baby rush’ where I was overcome with emotion.
I don’t really remember much now about the pain.
But I do remember the intense satisfaction of knowing her dad was holding her and I didn’t have to worry. I remember the midwife encouraging me to get up and shower, opening my bag for the first time and being detached but amused looking at all the things we’d carefully packed for a long labour in hospital. I got back into bed feeling fresher and as comfortable as possible, finally able to rest.
Abigail automatically had to stay for 24 hours for observations due to the meconium. She was absolutely fine but her temperature was a touch low... so we got to cuddle skin to skin for most of the day to warm her up a bit. We stayed in our room overlooking the Houses of Parliament overnight, where I could look at the lights reflected in the river when I couldn’t sleep.
Realising she was mine and finally believing I would get to keep her was a gradual process. It felt like slowly waking up from a fading dream to a beautiful sunny morning.
Saturday, 18 June 2011
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