Now, where was I? (Continued from the last post).
Oh yes…..Positive Pregnancy Test??
What. The. F***?!?!
I ran from the bedroom to the bathroom (about 3 steps away 🤣) to double-check. Honestly, if this was some bad joke that Daz was playing, I would bury him under the patio.
But there it was, in all its glory, 2 lines. I’d never seen positive test before, only negative pregnancy tests. I paced from the bathroom to the bedroom and back again. I went and sat on the bed, I stood up, I paced. Was this real? What do I do? Well, as it was 7:17 on Tuesday morning, I did the only thing I could do. I got ready for work.
How I got through that day, I have no idea. At lunch, I popped outside and called the fertility clinic. I have a positive pregnancy test; what do I do next?!
I’ll admit it; I expected congratulations or maybe a well done or something. I wasn’t expecting to be told that I had tested too early and re-test in 10 days. I’m sorry, what? Dejected, I called Daz. How was I going to survive for 10 days? Was I pregnant or not? I didn’t feel pregnant; I felt the same.
When I got home from work that night and Daz was excited still. I told him not to get his hopes up. That I couldn’t, I wouldn’t believe it until I saw hard evidence.
We tested every single day for those 10 days. Every single day I convinced myself that I wasn’t pregnant as I didn’t have many symptoms. Sometimes I felt a bit nauseous and had very tender boobs, but that could also be period related. I would feel a twinge or have cramps and tell Daz that I felt like I was getting my period. I couldn’t allow myself to get my hopes up because if I did, and I wasn’t actually pregnant, I would be beyond devastated.
Waiting For The Confirmation
Somehow, I got through those 10 days and called the clinic again. The test is still saying positive. Unbelievably, I was told that it was still too early. I hung up and called Daz in tears. He called the clinic and got them to explain it all to him as I was in too much of a state. They advised me to re-test in a week and call back.
The reason that we had to wait was that there might be a chance that I’d have a ‘Chemical pregnancy’. This is where pregnancy ends in the very early stages before anything can be seen in the uterus or an ultrasound. From this point, I was convinced that I was having a chemical pregnancy. I continued to tell Daz not to get his hopes up. I would find him, deep in conversation with my older sister on FaceTime, both of them talking about the pregnancy and trying to convince me that this was real, but I couldn’t believe them. What if, even for a moment, I believed them, and I got my period? Even though my depression was so much better, I wouldn’t be able to handle that.
I was still doing pregnancy tests each day. My poor husband would go out on his lunch break each day and buy more pregnancy tests for me to do. Finally, finally, the week was up, and I called the clinic, telling them that the tests were still positive. So, they booked us in for a scan at the early pregnancy unit.
Time For The Scan
Time seemed to draaaaaaaaaaaag. Why does it always do that? I remember sitting in the waiting room with Daz on that day. By this point, we have been trying for a baby for almost 3 years. Both of us so nervous and excited, not knowing what to expect. I was terrified that they were going to tell us that there was nothing there. We were called in, and the sonographer put the gel on my tummy and got to work. It felt like we waited an eternity. Then finally, she said, “See that little flickering there? That’s the heartbeat of a healthy 7-week foetus.”
Well, me and Daz lost it. We cried and cried. It actually still makes me a bit emotional now, remembering that moment. That moment that we had waited for, for so long.
We were pregnant.
The sonographer wasn’t able to continue scanning me as the crying kept jiggling me, and she wasn’t able to get a clear picture. Eventually, we got our scan picture and left, floating away on cloud 9.
I hadn’t booked the day off work, so I still had to go in and pretend that everything was normal, but inside, I was screaming, “I’m pregnant, I’m pregnant, I’m finally bloody pregnant!!”
As soon as we had the scan, my nauseous feeling went. My sore boobs also went away. In the days that followed, I was convinced that I wasn’t pregnant and would check the NHS website for common symptoms and advice. We was still regularly doing pregnancy tests to check. I thought that I would relax after the scan and enjoy being pregnant, but I couldn’t. I was paranoid that something was going to go wrong. Before we went in for our 12-week scan, I was so scared that they would give us bad news. But there he was, snug, safe and warm.
We had opted to have the tests done to check for certain abnormalities, and a few days before Christmas, I got a letter from the hospital with my test results. Everything was fine, but they had detected that one of my hormones was low, and this can result in a small baby and possibly an early birth. I started panicking. Was it something that I had done wrong? They had arranged an extra scan at 32 weeks to check the growth of the baby.
I think because of this, it made me paranoid about the size of my bump. I had a couple of comments from people saying, “oh, isn’t your bump small.” This would make me so upset and angry! How dare you? You wouldn’t walk over to someone and say, “oh, aren’t you fat,” or “oh, don’t you have short legs?” So what made it okay to say to a woman about the size of her bump? From that moment, I vowed that I would never again comment on the size of a woman’s bump. Instead, I would say how lovely her bump was.
As we got closer to the 20-week scan, I started getting paranoid again. What if something had happened since the 12-week scan? How could we be sure that he was okay? Thankfully, all was fine! Baby J was a pickle, though. First, the sonographer tried to scan his face to check everything was normal, and he covered his face. Then, when she went to check the sex, he covered his bits!
I had started to feel movements by now, and this helped (a little!) to put my mind at ease, except for when he was having a lazy day and wouldn’t move much. Ice cold water and some Haribo would normally get him moving again, although we did have to go to the hospital a couple of times to check. It’s always better to be safe than sorry, and the maternity unit was always friendly and helpful.
I was fortunate and didn’t suffer from many pregnancy symptoms, and I actually felt pretty well most of the time. I was definitely one of the lucky ones you hear about! I’m just a bit gutted that I didn’t chill out and enjoy the pregnancy more in those early days.
New worries replaced my normal anxiety. Was I able to eat this? Could I drink that? Did I have too much sugar/salt today? Have I drunk enough water? Oh no, did stretching like that hurt the baby? I need to go for a walk and get fresh air. I must make sure I take my multivitamin. Did I sleep funny and hurt the baby? Was I going to be a good mum? How would I cope with such little sleep? Would I know what to do? Is the baby going to like me? Would I ever be able to go out and be me ever again? Will me and my husband ever have a moment to ourselves? How would I cope with labour? These were just a few of the thoughts that I would have.
Thankfully, Darren was always on hand to calm me down and reassure me. He was the most supportive husband during pregnancy I could have ever asked for.
Summer was in full force as I neared the end of the pregnancy. It was boiling! I’ll never know how I coped, especially as my little boy was overdue. Anyone that knows me knows that I am late for everything. So it was only natural that my little boy would be late too. That’s why my birth plan was ‘whatever happens, happens. When I was over a week overdue, I didn’t feel him move as much, so I had an emergency scan at the hospital. As per normal, he was a little monkey. When the Sonographer tried to scan the umbilical cord to check it, he kept pulling it out of the way! Everything was fine, and I was allowed home. I was booked in to be induced in a few days anyway.
By the time my induction day came round, I was so ready. I felt like I’d been pregnant for about 18 months by this point! I needed this baby out! Induction is not fun. I think the hospital was about 1,000 degrees. When the contractions started, I thought I just had wind!
Thankfully I had both Daz and my sister with me, so they were helping me through each contraction. Even through the pain, I couldn’t help but laugh at them sometimes. As we had been at the hospital for some time, Daz hadn’t had been able to change or anything, and through one contraction, I remember my sister saying to him, “your breath hums!” Daz then turns to me and says, “didn’t you pack me a toothbrush?” Honestly, I could have throttled him! I had been gently reminding him (nagging) for a week to pack his bag. I’d packed my bag ready for the induction and baby J’s bag, the least he could do was pack his own damn bag!!
Labour Not Going To Plan
Time dragged on slowly, but I was barely progressing. I’d had to have my waters broken and was given the hormone drip to speed things up. Finally, by the Saturday at about 3 pm, I was ready to push. By now, I was exactly 14 days over my due date, and I’d been at the hospital since Thursday. I thought that I would know how to push. It turns out, pushing a baby out requires a special type of pushing. Who knew? So I pushed and pushed and pushed. And pushed and pushed. I pushed some more. Nothing. Why won’t this baby come out?!?!?
After an hour, I’d had enough. I’d practically been awake from Friday morning, I hadn’t had anything to eat, and I was drugged up to the eyeballs on diamorphine, epidurals and a lot of gas and air. Because of this, they decided to send me theatre so that forceps could be used. Now, the idea of forceps scared the life out of me, but I had a feeling that if they didn’t use them, I would probably still be pregnant now.
Me and Daz were prepped for theatre, and I was given a spinal block. Oh. My. God. It was amazing. The pain left me almost instantly. And the ability to walk or use my legs also left me. I can remember laying on the table, going through one of the scariest situations I’d ever been in, and what do I hear? Only Daz and one of the doctors in the room talking about bloody football! (Dele Alli had just made it 2-0 to England in the World Cup quarter-final, in case you’re interested)
And at last, at 16:20 our little boy was finally born. So began our life with a newborn.