On thinking things couldn't get any worse

As well as not taking into account how well my brain would work in the last 6 weeks it appears I hadn't taken into account how well my body would work.  Yesterday (Friday the 3rd) was to be my last day at work.  I was really looking forward to getting a chance to say goodbye to some of my favourite customers.  Sadly, I missed that opportunity.  After having a difficult second to last day at work, I spent Thursday night in Waitakere Hospital.

After a few hours at work I started getting intermittent pains which felt just like someone had punched me in the crotch -strong to the point of leaving me doubled over in pain, or unable to stand, but gone within 10 seconds or so.  After tracking the regularity of the pain, I had a brief look on some pregnancy forums as to what contractions feel like (I've never even had Braxton Hicks).  Although some people described theirs similarly to the pain I was experiencing, it definitely didn't seem the norm.  I called Murray at work and let him know, and left a non-urgent message with my Midwife.  They were happening about every 15 minutes, so I calculated how many more I'd have to tolerate through the workday, and figured I could handle working the rest of the day.

After almost two hours, they stopped.  My Midwife called me back, said it didn't sound like contractions, but to let her know if anything else changed.  Murray was going to pick me up from work to save me the pain of public transport.  Shortly before I finished work, the pubic pain was back but constant.  My uterus had also started contracting intermittently (usually painlessly), which I hadn't had happen before, and my belly position had noticeably changed.  I got in the car and as soon as I sat down I had that feeling of the onset of cystitis (fiery pain in urethra).  That car ride home was one of the most painful 40 minutes of my life - worse than travelling with a broken ankle whilst in shock.  It felt like cystitis coupled with someone punching me in the pubis, made worse by the baby moving like mad because of contractions and the movement increasing pubic pain.

Poor Murray!  I was yelling at him 'if this is what the rest of pregnancy's going to be like, I can't do it.  And if this is labour, I need an epidural.'  I was freaking out, because given the sudden onset and the level of pain, I had assumed it must be labour.  I've read and learned a LOT about labour, and this wasn't following any of the rules - particularly the rule of 'contractions will come, and they will go' - I was in constant pain.  All the breathing methods I'd learned pushed my diaphragm down which put more pressure on my pubic bone.  So I was feeling pretty helpless, sore and claustrophobic being trapped in a car on the motorway during peak hour traffic.

As soon as I got home I went straight to the toilet as felt (like with cystitis) the pain would lessen if I could only pee.  I was right.  Murray ran a bath while I sat on the toilet and told him to page my Midwife and bring me Panadol.  We waited to call her when I was calmer - even when the Panadol and bath kicked in things felt wrong.  After talking to her on the phone she said it probably was a urinary tract infection.  From my midwife I learned these are notorious for starting contractions and sometimes pre-term labour, so we had to go straight to hospital for monitoring.  This made me feel slightly relieved, as the level of pain and discomfort I was in surely couldn't be just a 'normal' side effect of pregnancy.  I don't know what I would have done to cope if I had to just stay home.

At hospital I was put on a foetal monitor and I was having regular, small and mostly pain free contractions - probably just Braxton Hicks but disconcerting seeing as I hadn't had them before.  The baby was fine.  I knew this would be the case because she had kicked the crap out of me all day.  The contractions obviously upset her, but not enough to hurt her.  I had some other tests and it was assumed it was a UTI so was given antibiotics, and had to stay overnight for observation and more monitoring.  It was my first time staying in Waitakere Hospital, and their rooms are wonderful - I had a whole room to myself.  And had I been in less pain, I probably would have slept ok.  The midwives and Drs there were great, and the next day my physio even visited me to schedule my next appointment. 

For us, it was a great dry run to hospital.  I am so glad I packed my hospital bags months ago as it meant we just grabbed them and put them into the car in case I needed them - which I did.  So I had toiletries and comfy clothes and even chocolate on hand.  We now know that when it's not peak hour, we can get to hospital in 10 minutes.  This is really handy to know.

After some more monitoring and another internal exam to check my cervix (very sore) it was decided I could go home around midday Friday.  My cervix wasn't dilated, but there had been some changes.  My Midwife wasn't sure if I was going to go into labour, or if the contractions would just slowly die off - either way, I would be better off at home.  I had contractions right up until today, and they've steadily grown less and less which is great.  Even if your contractions aren't labour related, they are exhausting.  And after over 36 hours of contractions, I feel wiped out and very hungry!

While it's great that contractions have settled, I've discovered I have a new wonderful pregnancy condition - SPD.  This was to be expected with the hip issues I've had, but it feels different to how I imagined.  Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction is another relaxin related bitch of a thing.  This is what has been causing the punched-in-the-crotch pain, which is by far worse than any other pain I've had.  I'm assuming this suddenly got worse on Thursday as with everything that was going on, my belly dropped again, so there will be more pressure than ever on my pubic area.  Unfortunately for some women, this level of pain is just there until they deliver.  I hope that's not me.  When I read that on a forum I cried.

I will be seeing my physio on Wednesday, so hopefully she can help a little.  Swimming is recommended, so I do plan on continuing with that as much as possible.  Currently, the pain is so bad I am having difficulty walking much more than around the house - and even that is hard.  So am now totally reliant on help to get to things like swimming and physio which sucks a big kumara, but is doable. 

While pregnancy really sucks now, and I just want it to end, I'm hoping we make it to 37 weeks.  This will mean better labour options for me, and lower health risks for our baby.  Thinking you might be in labour also makes you realise how unprepared you are.  There are still a few things that need sorting before she gets here.  To be honest though, I don't think I'll ever really feel prepared.  Even hearing the babies cry in hospital made me wonder 'what the hell am I doing?'

I can't remember if I've said this before, if so, I'll say it again: I am not going through this pregnancy dealio again.  I honestly don't think it makes sense to volunteer for this whilst having to look after an existing child - it's hard enough coping with no kids.  We'd love to have siblings for this baby-to-be, but after weighing things up I'm just not finding pregnancy (in this body) a very feasible method by which to procure them.  Keep us in mind if you get accidentally knocked up though - we'll totally whangai your baby!*

*Although I'm sure after reading all my blog posts you'll probably not think that wise... But if you do, we're totally keen to raise your baby (unless we already have a magical bonus baby somehow).

On Getting Excited About Baby

And a more palatable baby from this less scary website

What our baby will look like according to this sadistic website

  

I am finally over my cold/flu/bug thing (took about a week) and went swimming with Murray last night which was wonderful.  So despite having little and interrupted sleep last night (I got up at 2am and watched Once Upon A Time), I am feeling  a bit better than when I last posted.

To keep (our) spirits up, and also because of seeing friends wee ones recently, we've been talking a little about what traits we hope this baby will have, and what we hope she really doesn't have.  And Murray is getting more and more nervous about having a little girl that, due to sensible biology, looks just like him for at least a few years.  I can understand why!

First off looking at the issue of hair - we're hoping like hell that despite the changing-behaviour-entirely-at-full-moon she doesn't actually look like a werewolf.  This is a distinct possibility if she takes after her dad.  We are hoping she inherits my appearance of hairlessness (very fine, very blonde body hair).  Even though I colour my eyebrows in to feel like a regular human, it's MUCH easier and less painful than waxing, apparently.  Not that we wouldn't love her if she were an un-waxed werewolf - I've never waxed, I only know it's painful cos Murray told me*...

It seems unlikely there will be much variance in the hair colour department - I have honey-blonde hair, and Murray has light ash browny coloured hair.  She'll have to take after someone further back to get anything less muddy as a grown up, although she'll likely be blonde as a small person (we both were).  Eye colour is kinda the same - the options are hazel or brown.  With skin there is a little room for variance, and I'm hoping she gets Murray's.  Murray's Mum's family have this lovely skin tone - slightly olive and tannable.  I have typical English Rose skin which is almost translucent, is freckled and burns if the sun winks at it.  I'm also allergic to a bunch of things, and have that lovely stuff affectionately known as 'chicken skin' on my upper arms and face.  It's less noticeable now I'm older and know things I can do to minimise it, but it was a horrible thing to have as a teenager.  Murray's skin = lower cancer risk and possibly less angsty teenager to deal with down the track.

I don't really don't think it matters too much how tall she gets.  I am well below average height, and apart from making some things more difficult (reaching stuff), it being annoying at concerts (can't see stuff) and often receiving some light hearted ribbing, it's really not that bad.  It would be nice also if she doesn't get to be Murray's height - I think it's almost harder for the taller ladies - but that's unlikely.  Our metabolism is similar, but Murray's is better, so that'd be nice for her to inherit - although I like my physique (I like having T&A, but it's not everyone's thing, especially these days thanks to stupid modern media).

And outside of looks I really hope she gets Murray's family health.  Mine's a bit muddied with lower mortality rates, a higher risk of breast cancer and heart disease, gynae issues, asthma, and food allergies being par for the course.  No matter what happens, she'll probably be clumsy  - Murray fell over in the shower the other day and popped his shoulder out - just a reminder that we sometimes forget how unco he is.  And everyone seems to have no trouble remembering how unco I am.  So it's great that we are both first aid trained and usually calm in emergencies.

We hope she gets our smarts.  We hope she inherits our shared love of problem solving, games and reading.  I hope she has an imagination - with us as parents it seems unlikely that she won't.  I hope she likes school, and that it works for her, but we'll be ok if it doesn't.  I hope she likes cooking, like I do, and likes eating, like her Dad does - although maybe a little less obsessed with burgers and pies.  I hope that despite what will be a suburban upbringing (weird to me) she likes playing outside and running about exploring (safely).  I hope she likes animals and doesn't scream at our cats or pull their tails too much.  I hope that if she ISN'T a nerd (for whatever strange reason), we can support her in her non-nerdy endeavors.  And if she IS a nerd like us, I hope we can prepare her for living a positive nerd life ie: how to ignore/ discourage haters.  I hope she inherits my feistiness, and I hope we can cope with it!  I hope she's also as logical as Murray, although that won't aid us in arguing with a teenager...

The biggest thing I hope for our baby is that we learn how to do what's best for her no matter how she turns out.  That we can balance boundary setting with freedom, tolerance with reason and give her continuing love and support no matter what.  I hope that we can set our ideals aside and help her carve a path for herself.  

I also really hope she doesn't look like the baby morph baby at the top left - cos there is clearly something wrong with that baby.  I would probably send that baby back.  That baby is evil.

                                                                                              
* No weird frat boy antics - he used to cycle at a pretty high level - funny given how unco he is...

And if Murray had a baby with Hermione (Emma Watson), it'd look like this.

And if Hannah had a baby with Bruce Willis, it'd look like this.  Morphing is fun!

On Being Over This Pregnancy Business

Just a few hours before hoards of wonderful people were due to show up at our house for the baby shower with friends, I was bawling my eyes out.  My friend Lucy who was organising the shower turned up shortly after my hips had got me stuck in an awkward position and sorted me out (with Codeine - sadly necessary).  I had called for Murray to come help, but he hadn't heard me as was outside*.  I was in pain, exhausted, stressed and felt helpless, and these feelings were no different than of any other day last week.

Up until last week I thought pregnancy was horrible but manageable.  Now it feels as though it's just horrible and I am secretly hoping that this baby comes early to put an end to it (and is still magically perfectly healthy).  It seemed to happen all at once - I suddenly went from feeling a bit icky, to super uncomfortable, like someone flipped a switch.  Now it's uncomfortable to stand up (pressure on bladder), to sit down for long periods (back and hip pain), it’s very painful to lie down (worse than sitting) and it's getting progressively more difficult to breathe.  Due to the time of year, and needing to use it to lift my (increasing) weight, my right wrist has packed up and is now in a brace.  And now when the baby moves it feels even more like there is an alien inside me - I can feel with my hand what position she's lying in, and although it's kinda cool, it's outweighed by being mega creepy.  It creeped me out so much that when I felt her turn her foot on Saturday, I cried.

I now usually sleep in one hour blocks (two if I’m lucky) as I have to get up to pee that often.  And getting into a position where it's possible for me to sleep is so painful that I now putting off attempting to sleep until I really have to.  Getting into bed and getting onto the toilet are the two things that make my hips lock up the most, so going to bed is the most painful part of my day.   Attempting to stay in bed is also hard due to the amount of bathroom trips, so it means that I get up as soon as I can - sometimes as early as 3am (like when I started writing this) because it's just too sore to continue trying to sleep, which means I don’t sleep anyway!  So now I am this horrible, sleep deprived, grumpy mess - and I don't even have a baby yet!

This has been aided by also catching a cold/flu bug thing which hasn’t helped with the breathing and also means it's not smart to go swimming (again).  Swimming is currently  one of my biggest motivators to get out of the house now that standing up is uncomfortable.  It's also the thing that has been helping my hips and back, and the difference in the state of my hips is quite evidently linked to how much I get to the pool.  This has been the week of crying every day, of feeling sick and sore, helpless and overwhelmed.

Despite all good intentions, all my lists and plans, I have achieved very little in the last month.  I didn't take into account how reliant I would be on my brain to get things done.  Although my brain is slightly better than during the first trimester, it still can't create knitting patterns, format books, sort baby stuff or do anything beyond mundane, every-day tasks (like writing lists...).  And despite having many life lessons in this area I am still not very good at asking for help, or trusting other people to help me in ways that don't create more work.

The good thing that happened this week is that I let a few people help me.  The clutter in our house due to accumulation of ‘baby things’ (expectedly exacerbated by the baby shower last weekend) has contributed significantly to the crying, grumpy mess.  Mum came over on Wednesday and helped me sort it out.  We sorted all the clothes into sizes, and put the bigger things into storage (sorted and bagged in wardrobe) and made some shelves and filled them with other stuff.  The smaller clothes are in the drawers and being washed in batches (something I can do with no brain) as I feel like it.  And Thursday was Anzac Day, so Murray helped me sort out ALL the random stuff in our spare room.  We threw out two rubbish sacks full of junk, culled a bunch of random appliances and got ruthless on my art collection (a necessary evil).  I couldn't have done those things by myself.

Even though our house is now MORE of a state while we ‘rehome’ a few things from the spare room, I’m feeling more confident that within a week everything will look better than ever.  And although I’m sure I’ll still feel like a grumpy, teary, painful heffalump at least in a week’s time, at least I (probably) won’t be sick.  The most important things on my list will be done, and I’ll sadly have to let go of the more awesome things that require brain, and focus on more banal things, like re-watching bad 80's movies and marking off the days on my calendar - only 36 sleeps to go until I hit 'my' due date.

* Murray has asked me to have my cel on me at all times as this isn't the first time it's happened.  Unfortunately when you are stuck in certain positions even if your phone is nearby, you are unable to grab it.  In this instance my phone was on the charger less than 2 meters from my hands.  In this instance, Murray's phone was inside, so the location of my phone is irrelevant as he didn't have HIS phone.