Yes, I know that after everything so far there are legitimate reasons to be a nervous wreck. Afterall - I've been here 6 times before & can only count 2 wonderful, live, children at home with me, so the rest of you can do the maths just as easily as I can. I know that the last miscarriage was a 'missed' one, and although my hormone levels were high & rising, and the pregnancy tests kept getting stronger, the baby still didn't make it. On the other hand, those 2 gorgeous boys are the result of the last 2 pregnancies, so taken purely on that level I should be MORE relaxed about it this time, surely? Maybe I could start to hope that my body finally knows what it is supposed to be doing? I know I was somewhat nervous the other times too, but compared to now, it feels as if I was on happy-pills the whole way through!
I have finally contacted my midwifery practice, and booked myself for the earliest available slot with the best ultrasound technician amongst the bunch (there's a scanner in the consulting room and they're all trained to use it, but Daphne is by far & away the most experienced, especially if looking for heartbeats in very early pregnancy, where the baby is just a couple of mm in size). Unfortunately, it feels like a very long time to wait - 12th December, by which time I'll already be 7w1d. Now I wish I *hadn't* stalled for the last week. I briefly considered whether or not to contact Leiden recurrent miscarriage unit & arrange for an earlier scan there, but logically I am aware this is an over-reaction, and I really should leave the places at the academic hospital for those who don't already have 2 broadly healthy (see below) children at home. I suppose I could storm my (lovely, sympathetic) GP & ask for a referral to obs & gyne at the local hospital for a 6 week viability scan, but honesty compels me to admit it's not necessary.
I'm trying to be rational. I know there is nothing anybody can do about it anyway. If it goes wrong, then there's nothing that can be done. There’s nothing I can or should be doing to improve my odds, besides attempting to chill out about it. I guess at least I can be pretty damn sure that if there isn't a heartbeat on 12th December that it's 'game over', there'll be no need to hang around for another couple of weeks of hideous limbo just to 'wait & see'.
Perhaps it's because I feel a bit like I'm pushing my luck? Is it greedy and silly to really want a baby girl? I almost can't bring myself to type that. I mean, what if this one is another wonderful little boy? It feels disloyal to a potential 'him' to put it into words, even. I know I would love him too. And of course, at least if he was a boy I already have plenty of 'boy' things and I won't have to constantly fight the inevitable tide of pink-disney-princessification that goes along with small female people these days, no matter how hard you try to curb the gender stereotypes (please note, people. If this baby is a girl, PLEASE don't bury me in a sea of hideous PINK things...)
What a self-indulgent tirade of first-world concerns! I suppose I should feel reassured that this is all I have to get myself worked up over, these days..?
Somebody slap me (digitally, and preferably gently) upside the head & tell me to get a grip, please.
Just. Keep. Breathing.
So that's where we're at, with small person number 7. In the meantime, small person number 5 (who is of course more usually referred to as Daniel) has stopped sleeping properly again these last 3 or 4 nights and is again complaining about his ears. Time to visit the doctor & check to see if the grommets are still in-situ & doing their job correctly, methinks. Small person number 6 (aka Joshua, Squashua, Sploshua, squishy-squashy-Joshy) had surgery on the 15th (Friday before last, the day before his first birthday) to get his matching set of little tubes in his ear drums fitted as well. Since then, his right ear is still very gunky and we had an appointment with the hospital poli-clinic this morning to get it looked at. Yet more ear-drops for him, but at least it seems to be healing, slowly but surely. Of course when I bemoaned the fact that I seemed to make beautiful kids who had wonky ears, my dad rather sagely replied 'Better wonky ears than wonky hearts, darling.' Not much more that can be said on that front, really. I said half jokingly that I might as well buy myself an ottoscope for Christmas & save us all the bother of the seemingly endless rounds of doctor visits to peer inside my kids' ears by doing it myself - and Steve rang just now to inform me that he's gone ahead & bought me one!
Apart from aural concerns, both of them continue to delight me on a daily, if not hourly, basis. D is so imaginative, and comes up with the maddest games. J is crawling & cruising all over the place, into everything, just as a one-year-old should be. They're both pretty even-tempered & happy little souls, on the whole. Not much trouble with 'terrible twos' from Daniel, and Joshua is extremely placid & cheerful all round, although there's been a definite increase in his visible frustration level recently as he's trying to do more & more.
There now. There really is something therapeutic about writing it all down.
I'll keep you posted.
love C. xxx