Nine and 10 weeks – the danger zone

Categories 2019, FET 1, Misc, My IVF
Alarm clock pink and blue

9 weeks – nine weeks pregnant on the nose was our booking-in appointment at the doctor’s. The midwife was lovely. She asked if we were excited and we said not really, as we’d been in that same office six months ago and it’d all gone wrong a few weeks later (we’d seen a different midwife back then). She was really sympathetic. My husband said how we’d probably get another private scan between now and 12 weeks because he’s so worried about what happened last time happening again. The midwife said she’d try and refer us to the local early pregnancy unit for an NHS scan but that we’d unlikely get one if I wasn’t in pain or losing blood etc.

Anyway, lo and behold, I got phone call from the early pregnancy unit that afternoon inviting me for a scan! Now I know going to the hospital isn’t something most people get excited about, but for us it’s a mini break-through. A free scan! We’re used to paying £70 a pop for every private scan we’ve had (see weeks seven and eight), of which there’ve been a lot. Plus why this additional scan is so important is because last time our baby stopped growing at 9+2 – that was its measurement at the 12-week scan. So this time of the pregnancy is the danger zone. The hospital could have seen us four days’ later but I asked for the appointment in a week’s time – 10 weeks – so hopefully that’ll give us the reassurance we need…

9+2 – …because, ridiculously, yesterday morning I woke up with a super crampy and uncomfortable tummy. I went to the loo and there was pink when I wiped. I stared down at the tissue in utter dismay. This is exactly the day when we lost our baby last time. And here I am, wiping pink away. I came upstairs and told my husband. He looked devastated. But I’ve spotted quite a bit through this pregnancy, and nothing has come to it, so I have to try and remain positive. A quick google search showed many women in the same boat, the majority of whom said it had all been fine for them.

The rest of the day I was on knicker-watch but there was nothing much else to see. Very light spotting but nothing more. I was crampy, though, like mild period pains. I had little shooting pains at the top of my thighs, which didn’t feel right. BUT I’ve woken today crampy again, but nothing else. Slight light brown discharge is all. My (.)(.) are still sensitive – more so than ever before – and I’m still experiencing food aversions. But the nausea is not really there any more. I had a slight sensation of it yesterday but it seems to be fading. As long as my (.)(.) feel like this, I will have faith. Because last time, I think at this point they may have started fading.

In other news, today at lunchtime I threw up! Completely out of the blue! One minute I was making soup, the next I was shouting for my husband to get out of the bathroom as I was about to barf! I think what triggered it was taking a new pregnancy vitamin tablet, which I’ve heard can cause sickness in women. But it was just so unexpected. I’ve only been sick once throughout the pregnancy, and that was at seven weeks. I believe HCG hormones peak at around this time, so maybe there’s more to come. And while it was awful being sick, I was so pleased as well because it’s a good sign. Long may it continue! (The going well bit, not necessarily the sickness!)

9+5 – I’ve not been sick again this week, but I feel a bit ‘off’, and my (.)(.) are still sore. My husband is driving me mad, asking for regular ‘BBP’ updates (belly, boobs and pants!) I’m like, if there’s an issue, I’ll tell you! It’s funny actually, because this time with my first pregnant – actually, on 9+6 – I took my first ‘belly shot’ for Instagram. You know, photo into a mirror to show your reflection and how your body’s changing. The first of many, I thought. At that point, I was pretty bloated and 99% sure things were going to be OK. So I took a picture. Little did I realise that the baby inside of me had already died. It’s so sad. And I walked around for another two weeks like that, thinking it was all hunky dory, and it wasn’t. :-(. That’s why we’re having the scan on Friday, the day after tomorrow. I’m so nervous for it, but I’m hoping it’ll make the 12-week scan less horrendous.

10 weeks – today was our NHS scan. We had it at Wexham Park hospital, which is much closer to us than Frimley Park, where we had our 12-week scan last time round.

We set off for our 9am appointment at 7:45am, as we were both so nervous and just wanted to get there, and got there 8:05am! After waiting in the car for half an hour, we decided to try and find the antenatal ward, which was at the other side of the hospital! After waiting in one room, then in another, we finally were told to go to Ward 20, the early pregnancy unit. And it was an open ward full of women in beds. I wondered if it was the equivalent to the room I was in when I had my ERPC over in Frimley Park where I had my own private room. This was completely different, and felt intimidating and scary. What if that’s me in a few hours?

We waited in yet another room, a big empty room, with a nurse in the corner who was calling women to make appointments to discuss their recent scans, or to book scans. And there was one on the other end who was clearly in distress, pleading with the nurse to let her come in today but the nurse was adamant they were fully booked. Another who was about to be told she’d had a miscarriage. I just thought: god, why are they doing this in a waiting room with women about to have scans who may have had their own miscarriages?

About 9:50am (at this point my husband is about to lose his shit because we’ve been waiting so long) we were finally called in. I explained our situation to the nurse: that we’d lost our baby last time around nine or 10 weeks, that I had spotted pink last week and was looking for reassurance. And as I lay down and unbuttoned my jeans, I closed my eyes. I refuse to look at the ultrasound now until I hear someone say something positive. The nurse pressed down in one spot, and then in another, and I thought: oh god, this is what happened last time… please, please, please let it be OK.

Then the sound of a heartbeat – boom, boom, boom. That’s the baby, she said, all looking and sounding good. I opened my eyes. I could barely see the screen, to be honest, it was at a funny angle, but my husband was looking and he said the baby was much more developed than when we had our 12-week scan, with little arms and legs, and a flickering heart. She said it measured 9+5, which isn’t too far off, although later – on the report – said she’d remeasured and it was 10 weeks! It was all over pretty quickly. There was no indulging us with close-ups. But we did get some grainy print outs, which I thought was a lovely touch.

So there we go – all good a the moment! We’re still waiting to find out a date for our 12-week scan, which should be in the next two weeks. And then, hopefully, it’ll be OK. Please, please, please.

It’s funny, because instead of joy, I just feel a bit relieved. It’s such a shame that women who’ve been through miscarriages can feel this way – just anxious. I am so frightened of it all going wrong, all I want to do is count down the days rather than embracing it. Plus I’m so sick and tired of feeling crap. Sure, I’ve not been as bad as many, but I’ve basically felt ill for two months now. I know, I know: I don’t want to be THAT person that complains. I am so grateful for being in this position after two years of heartache. But it’s all so confusing.

My husband, however, is buzzing. He’s just so happy right now, I can’t even tell you. He said to me today that he can’t wait to see me look pregnant, because I’m quite slight he says he can’t imagine me with a bump. And neither can I. I honestly thought at times that might never be me. And I’ve honestly been thinking that if this doesn’t work that perhaps I should seriously consider a life without kids. I almost daren’t think about that now, because if I lose this baby, I will be devastated and the thought of ever doing this again so unimaginable. Especially as we’re so close this time, again. But imagine this: in six months’ time, I might be almost ready to have a baby. It’s mental, isn’t it?

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