The other part of the 2-parter
Back in March you may (or not) remember this article I wrote about facing your fears. It started out as a diary entry to document a really funny week and in it I referred to it as being a two-parter. There was a curveball Tuesday that I couldn’t share yet.
Here’s the second part… it has been THE longest wait to be able to share this and now I finally can.
I’m hoping that now this is out it allows me to get back into blogging properly because I completely stalled after getting this news!
I also need some advice so please keep going to the bottom and either comment on here or head to the Mums’ Days Facebook page and join the conversation there. Thanks in advance!
Tuesday – 13th March
On Tuesday night, Mike was at the top of Kilimanjaro about to reach the summit. I was in bed with my electric blanket on. Rock and bloody roll!
I was feeling a bit crampy, but it was only 3 weeks since I had my coil removed via laparoscopy, and my period hadn’t returned, so I wasn’t surprised. Then I thought I’d check how long it had been since my period should have started… a week and a half.
Is your mind going where mine went?
I had a bunch of pregnancy tests in the house from when I thought we were trying back in September (my coil had gone missing so it was assumed it had fallen out but instead it had passed through my womb and was on a holiday in my pelvis!) so I took a test. Just to rule it out.
I have some thoughts on taking a test just before bed:
DO. NOT. DO. IT.
I found it impossible to get to sleep afterwards and then woke up around 3am with my mind whirling and it took me 2 and half hours to get back to sleep.
Yes, sorry, the test.
Just before the line/s were appearing I had this moment of hope. Please say yes.
It came back positive. It did say yes.
But it couldn’t mean I was actually pregnant?? My coil has only been out 3 weeks and, you know, we’d done stuff but it was only last week so I couldn’t have a positive pregnancy test yet.
After a shit night’s sleep, where I took another test at 3am just to be sure (again, positive), I went to see my doctor. I was emotional and spoke in a weird, choked up voice. I told him about the op and the positive pregnancy tests and we worked out (I keep track of my periods on a free app called Clue) that it was all a bit of a fluke.
Basically, the last time we had sex before my operation was probably the one because I was ovulating around that time, 2 days before the op. This meant I was about 5 weeks pregnant. If I had had my coil out a few days later, the hormones would have stopped the egg implanting.
While I was lying unconscious on the chopping block, a tiny, precious, vulnerable, impregnated egg was quietly making its way down my fallopian tube, hoping to find a warm place to “drop its anchor” (as my mate, Cath, put it) for the next 9 months.
My mind instantly jumped to unhappy conclusions. What if it got disturbed or poked during the operation and that will affect its development?
What if my body was in shock and grabbed it too soon, in my tube? I was cramping on the left side, that could be where it is?
The doctor tried to reassure me, saying ectopic pregnancies take longer than this to show on a pregnancy test but he referred me for an early dating scan to see if it’s in the right place (please god) and hopefully work out how far along I am.
The rest of Wednesday was a bit of a blur. Mike was up a bloody mountain so I hadn’t been able to speak to him.
I went for a dog walk. It was still chilly and blowing a gale but at least the sun was out! (Later that week it was going to snow. Again.)
A sheep literally gave birth in front of us and then we walked passed a massive froggy orgy. Fertility signs or what?!
I messaged my friend who lives in the city with a picture of mama sheep and she messaged back…
“Hannah, you have the weirdest life ever.”
I finally spoke to Mike late afternoon. It was only a 3 minute conversation and he sounded exhausted having been up for the best part of 48 hours hiking up the highest mountain in Africa. But he was happy to hear the news and text me later to say how happy he was.
I didn’t want him to get his hopes up. Just in case.
The rest of the week has been odd! I’ve been carrying on working on my ideas for Mums’ Days but I’m worried this changes everything – I thought I was going to go down one route but am I going to get totally lost in pregnancy? All or nothing is somehow written in my DNA.
I’ve also been hormonal, crying over silly things. I think I just want Mike home. 3 more sleeps!
Mike finally came home! And about an hour later, we were heading back to Ashington, where I’d had my coil removed 4 weeks before, to have a scan.
Having Mike back was so lovely. He had that air about him of finding the meaning of life. He had it when Reuben was born and started immediately running marathons. He had it when he came home from climbing Mount Kenya. He even had it when he came back from Barcelona and had a ‘moment’ in Segrada Familia.
So, I knew he’d have it after climbing Kilimanjaro. These trips are a sort of refresher course that there is much more to life than work and stress and money and being busy. You can see it in his face that the cares of the world have left and he has renewed passion to protect what he loves and what is most important to him.
I think he should write about it, who wouldn’t want to understand the meaning of life (without having to exert oneself as much)?
I had woken up with a feeling that it was going to be alright. Whatever happened. And as we drove past the three closer hospitals, again, I was quietly optimistic. Somehow, Mike’s positivity was infectious and I was no longer worried that something was wrong.
We sat in the waiting room while I considered if I had drunk enough water, and I heard my name called from somewhere. I poked my head out of the waiting room and looked, cartoon style, in both directions.
The nurse had literally opened the door and yelled, like a kid would when you ask them to tell everyone it’s dinnertime. Made me chuckle.
The scan lady had been through my files so she was very interested in discussing my errant coil and subsequent operation. Although she didn’t seem to grasp that I couldn’t have had ‘several periods’ since the coil had been removed as it was only 4 weeks ago and I was already pregnant.
She couldn’t tell if I was definitely pregnant from the scan, so after a massive wee (I had definitely drunk enough) I had to have the dildo camera. A long moment or two later she said the magic words, “I can see a baby!”
She showed us the screen and it was like that Friends episode where Rachel can’t see anything on the screen. It was the tiniest of precious blobs. It seemed to be 90% pregnancy sack, 7% egg yoke, 2% heartbeat flicker and 1% other baby bits. At 3mm long, there was not a lot to see and we have printout scan pictures of almost nothing.
But it’s MY ‘almost nothing’, my little miracle blob that just needed the pesky coil out so it could settle in.
It was early days. But I had the same one eye, tear trickle on to the pillow that I did at Reuben’s first ultrasound scan (minus the eyeliner smear as I’ve pretty much stopped wearing it). Mike had a massive goofy grin. Those are the precious moments I want to always remember!
She dated it at about 6 weeks (which is what I thought it was from my period tracking app) but it was hard to date it properly because it was so tiny.
All we have to do now is wait.
6 more weeks to get this baby growing and then we’ll have another scan to properly get a due date. I hate waiting! I want to fast forward to the time when baby blob is a stronger baby bean.
Fast forward to today and it IS a stronger baby bean.
That was the longest wait EVER!! But we finally saw the baby again.
Everything is looking fine. We saw its little heart flickering and its butterfly brain developing. Its teeny tiny bladder and a long leg!
After weeks of wondering it was so nice to finally see that a) it definitely was still there and this isn’t a fantasy pregnancy and b) everything is looking like it’s developing well.
It was measuring at 12 weeks 2, which puts the due date at 10th November.
There wasn’t much movement as babe was completely fast asleep, which I’m taking as a good omen for when it’s out.
We’re going to tell the kids tomorrow night.
That was all yesterday and tonight I plan to tell the kids when they get home!
Reuben went through a phase last year of really wanting a little brother (note: not sister) but after a conversation recently, he seems to have gone off the idea! Fingers crossed he can get excited again but I’m not holding out too much hope…!!
How did your other children take it when you told them you were pregnant again? And how did you tell them?!
I’d love to hear about how you did it so please do comment below or head over to the Mums Days Facebook page and join the conversation there.
I shall report back tomorrow on how they took the news!