32 Week Update (Oops!)

How am I here at 32 weeks?! Also, how on earth has is taken me this long to update my blog?! Probably because I've been pretty darn busy! Life has been full of midwife appointments, scans, consultant appointments, work and spending time as a couple (plus dog). I'm not complaining though, I've needed the routine and focus to keep me going from one day to the next. As it gets closer to "D-Day" I'm feeling more and more panicked and I feel like I need constant distractions to keep my mind from drifting to the negatives.

I would say "mentally" I'm doing OK. There's a lot of ups and downs recently. I'm missing Freddie a lot recently, more so than usual. I think it's partially because it's nearly been a year since we lost him and partially because I'm scared how having another baby will impact on my relationship with him. I'm also feeling anger more than usual too...angry I wasn't given more attentive care last time (another pregnant woman with the same dipped uterus and breech baby was given consultant care and a c-section at 37 weeks...her baby lived). I'm also angry I can't just sit back and relax in this pregnancy. I don't want to spend every second with my hand on my bump, trying to work out if that was a kick or if I'm imaging it and baby hasn't moved all day. Pregnancy after loss is hard, that is one big fact.

Physically on the other hand, I'm doing pretty good (thank god). Today is my last day at work and I think that was the best possible decision. I have to walk 15 minutes, catch a bus for 20 minutes and then walk for another 10 minutes before I even start work. It can be exhausting, especially when it's a hot day and a man with hygiene issues sits next to you on the bus! I was coping but coming home with swollen feet after a shift to then have to cook/clean/wash/walk the dog really takes it out of me...which then impacts my emotions...which then impacts my relationships with people. I'm looking forward to finally being able to relax and do things in my own time. Fidgety legs are becoming a pretty regular feature in my life, closely followed by night-time leg cramps. The indigestion has started to calm down now since I cut out red meat and white bread but it occasionally comes back to haunt me. Also, on a side note, I've managed to grow myself a fringe. My hair just doesn't stop growing and it's literally sprouting out the front of my head like I've hacked at my hair to try and make an awful full fringe. Although, I'll be thankful for that extra hair when it's falling out after birth!

Scans and appointments have been going well too. Baby is measuring well, albeit with a slightly large head. They've tried to assure me is fine and just down to the fact Mattie and I have large heads and also because the positioning of his head makes it tricky to measure. Which leads me on to the fact that he is head down *yay* for now. A massive reassurance to me as we lost Freddie due to his breech positioning. We've briefly discussed a birth plan and it's looking likely that I'll be induced at 39 weeks, but I'm betting on him coming at around 37/38 weeks.

Hopefully I'll be doing another update before Baby H is here and hopefully it'll be going just as smoothly as it is now.

32 weeks down, 6 weeks *until I'm induced* to go

The Dating Scan

Aaaand breathe. I made it, I survived a scan and I came out with the news we had only dreamed of 6 months ago. We are definitely having a baby, a baby that is so far healthy and has a strong, beating heart. Which at this point, is all we can ask for I suppose.

The pre-scan part was hard, I can't lie. We spent the day staying distracted...watching Lord Of The Flies, window shopping and having a meal before the oh-so-familiar drive to the hospital. I don't really remember the happy scans with Freddie there. I remember driving up there when we were seeing him for the last time before he was moved to the funeral home, closer to us. I tried not to think of that when we drove there this time but it still crept up on me like it always does.

In the waiting room I felt close to a panic attack. I felt angry too. I recognised one woman, she was a year or two above me at school...I could just about remember her name. She was irritating me, nattering away excitedly to her mum whilst her boyfriend sat bored on his phone. I wasn't angry at her as a person, just the fact that she could be so happy and carefree. I wanted that back. Instead I sat with a sick feeling, my heart racing and I whispered to Mattie that I wanted to leave. Luckily he didn't let me and reassured me, as always that it would be "fine".

Then before I knew it, there I was on the bed with that cold jelly on my stomach. All of a sudden a baby was on the screen. "Look, there's the little heartbeat" the sonographer announced before I even had a chance to worry. I noticed the baby looked far more developed than Freddie did at 12 weeks, in fact I thought it looked more like him at 20 weeks! I had to roll onto my side so we could check measurements and this baby was measuring at 15+2 weeks so a lot bigger than the 13 weeks they had written down. Mattie then asked "so is there any chance we can tell the sex then?". Luckily our sonographer was very accommodating and said she would have a cheeky look for us! I won't be saying what the result was until we've had it confirmed at the 20 week scan though...you know, just in case it changes!

After that was all done (our little peanut even waved goodbye!) we saw a midwife to go over the results. Everything was looking good so far and she booked me an appointment to see a consultant so we would be able to discuss the care plan for this baby and myself! I finally felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. We looked at the scan photos and laughed at the little snub nose (different to Freddie's button nose) and full pouty lips (the same as Freddie).

I've made it past the first trimester and I'm one step closer to meeting this little bubba. I have a long, anxious and uncertain road ahead but one thing I am sure of it that my heart is utterly full of love already.

Little Baby

I haven't written poetry since I was in Year 8 and I won a poetry competition at school. I had to get up in front of the whole school and shake some rugby player's hand. I was totally mortified and it's clearly scarred me as I haven't written anything since. I don't really know why I felt so inspired to write this tonight but whilst Mattie played Fifa 16 *yawn* it just spilled out of me. I can imagine my English teacher tutting over my shoulder; it's hardly written well but it's real. It's raw and it's from the heart which is really what poetry is all about. Feel free to take it, share it or use it...I know it applies to so many of us.

Baby Loss Awareness Month

How did I even get here? I think I find myself asking this nearly daily. All I know is that my baby died and that I'm still clinging on. My life prior to Freddie dying is an insignificant haze. It's like a cloudy dream that doesn't seem real and I struggle to remember it. Even the time that has passed since we buried Freddie up till now is a blur. How am I still here? How on Earth am I getting through this? Can I keep going? I honestly can't answer those questions. All I know is I'm taking everything day by day. I love going to sleep, it's an escape from this horrible nightmare that I've found myself in. I love going to adult gymnastics because my body is in so much physical pain it takes away the emotional pain. I love running around after our puppy, Olive because she stops me from just spending my day crying in bed. But do any of these things make me truly happy? No, of course they don't. But they help the day to pass by and for every day that passes I tell myself I'm another step closer to being healed from this pain. Not cured because it will always still be there but healed so that the scars remain but life carries on and maybe I can be happy again. So that's a very jumbled description of where I am, from June 23rd 2015 to October 1st 2015. If you're going through the same thing I'm hoping you'll be able to make sense of my ramble above because you all get it. You know all too well that life these days is merely about surviving, no longer about thriving. At least, not yet anyway.
So it's October, somehow. I can't actually believe how quickly time seems to be moving around me even though I feel as if I'm stuck still in time whilst everyone continues around me. It's the month where we are able to do two things.

1) Raise awareness of baby loss. It's real people, it happens. 1 in 4 people have lost a baby whether that be in early, middle or late pregnancy or even after the baby has been born. It's not a horror story people whisper about. It's real. Fucking. Life. There should be no stigma and no shame. No one should feel embarrassed to say that they have lost a child and yet we do. I've been left cringing over the fact I've blurted out "my baby was stillborn". But why? I'm proud that I had him and that he existed. Please never shy away from someone who has lost a baby. Ask them if they want to talk about it. Something we do and sometimes we don't but that's OK. It means so much that you asked. Ask what the baby's name was. Show them that you care and you know that baby is real. And above all never ever say the words "at least". It never leads to anything good and we don't want to hear "at least you can try again" etc.

2) Celebrate the lives of our babies. No matter how long they lived they still lived. Tell people, show them a picture, say their name. Let the world know how proud you are to have been a mother to your baby. Whether it be your first or fifth! I'm taking part in the Capture Your Grief project (read more here!) to celebrate Freddie's life and to explore my grief. I'm also hosting an intimate fundraiser for family and friends to raise money for Sands. It's just a small gathering that I have named the PJ's and Wine Party (it's pretty self explanatory what we'll be doing) but it's still raising money AND I'll be having fun whilst doing it. I think it's important that we remember that this month, it can be happy. Which is something I have to keep reminding myself, that is OK to enjoy life. If not for yourself, enjoy it for your child when you can.

I really hope that this is a gentle month for you all. I'd love to hear what you're up to through this month if you would like to share in the comments or you can always email me for a chat (just go to the Contact Me page).

About Last Night

About last night. I feel like I've been in a car crash and I'm still trying to recover from it. I don't even know why it was so bad. I've been in a similar situation before and breezed through it but last night I just couldn't do it.

I couldn't listen to people's bullshit small talk. I don't care that your children are getting married (two days after the anniversary of Freddie's death. Not that anyone mentioned it. God forbid we actually speak about him), I don't care that your children are "doing it properly" (shame on me for having sex before marriage), I don't care that you're moving to Chelsea to live the fantastic life I'll never have. I don't fucking care.

Then the cherry on the cake came. Don't get me wrong, I still love children. I love being around them. It's one of the few things in life that still makes me happy. It's the conversation that follows that I hate. Every comment stabs me like a knife. It's like I'm starving to the point where I'm almost gone and people are tormenting me with food...waving it in my face to remind me what I don't have.

"Look at his hair, I can't believe he's so blonde!" No one is ever going to talk about Freddie's hair, no one would ever think to ask what it was like. For the record I remember it distinctly. We were shocked when he came out as when mixed with blood (yeah, yeah it's gross. I know) he looked ginger. Chloe, the midwife even commented "looks a bit strawberry blonde to me!". After he was cleaned up though it was apparent it was a very light, mousy brown. Still a shock as I was very dark and very hairy when I was born. So much so that my mum asked the doctor if there was something wrong with me. She was swiftly informed "no, she's just very hairy". I also remember visiting him in the chapel of rest. He had a thicker patch of hair to the back of his head in tiny, intricate curls. They were perfect. He is perfect. Anyway, I'm just angry that Freddie's hair will never be discussed. I could talk for hours about every inch of him but no one cares about the dead baby. An alive one is always better for a topic of conversation.

"Last time we saw him, he was just a baby!" Freddie should have been there. He should have been the baby this time. He should have been there, stealing all the attention but he's not. Just the awkwardness of his absence. A great big empty whole. Ironically there was an empty chair as someone got the numbers wrong but that cut me even deeper. To me it represented Freddie.

I just sat and watched Mattie's dad play and engage with his nephew and I couldn't take it anymore. Everywhere I looked I felt anger. How am I supposed to be happy and join in with meaningless and boring conversation? How am I supposed to just not talk about Freddie because I might make other people feel awkward?

I'm tired of pretending I'm OK. Pretending my son didn't exist. Pretending I didn't spend 15 hours in hospital in agony. Pretending I'm coping. Just pretending.

How does anyone live through this? It's honestly beyond me.

Day-To-Day Life Without A Baby

"How are you getting on?". The most irritating question I receive on a daily basis. So much so I actually avoid going out to somewhere that I'll encounter people I know. It's not so much the question I hate, it's the answer I give. "Oh you know, as well as can be expected". The answer they all want to hear. No one wants to hear the reality. The truth. That I'm drowning in an all consuming wave of misery, anger, jealousy and guilt. I am so very miserable and quite frankly, I'm sick of having to lie about being OK.

Initially, everyone is "here for you". But you begin to notice people gradually disappearing from your life. They want the old you. The you that wants to go out and have fun, the you that comes to soft play with your children, the you that can spend hours gossiping or complaining about trivial things. But that isn't you. Having your baby ripped away from your life changes you. Completely and utterly. Mattie is the opposite, he works hard to reassure people he's the same old happy person but I can't do that. Why should I? Why should I try and convince people that I'm the same fun loving 20 year old woman I was before? It's ME that's gone through the pain and agony of losing a child, why should I have to alter myself to make other people feel more comfortable?

I started out trying to be brave and strong, telling people that "these things happen" but I've started to realise I was just prolonging the inevitable breakdown. It happened. I lashed out. I mean I totally lost it and went bat-shit cray. To cut a long story short (and to save my dignity) it ended with Mattie literally dragging me kicking and screaming and him forcing me into bed where I cried myself to sleep, weeping into Freddie's toy mouse. My family genuinely thought I'd lost it. and, momentarily I had. I cannot emphasise enough how important it is to let it all out. Write it down, shout at inanimate objects (avoid shouting at your partner, family or friends but if you do, they'll get over it. They understand) just for the love of God, don't pretend it's just one of those things. It isn't and it never will be. It shouldn't have happened to me, or to you. But it has and it fucking hurts. A lot.

So how am I "getting on"? Well, since my *ahem* breakdown, a lot better. If people ask, I tell them straight up how I am. Some people are uncomfortable and try to shuffle away with the look of regret on their faces. I probably won't see them again, they'll avoid eye contact and speaking to me again at all costs. And that's OK. Other people might surprise you though. By being honest, I've received some amazing advice, comforting words and I've got the support I needed to keep my shit together. I still cry, almost daily. I hate other people for taking home babies when I couldn't and I still ache for my baby, Freddie but I'm getting there. I will get there.