I've Got a Good Job,

Ok, so now that the risk of miscarriage was minimised and scans had revealed that all seemed to be well with the baby, the families has been told and close friends were in the loop, it was finally time to go public at work.

As I have only been in my job for 8 months I kind of expected my bosses to be displeased but as it happened they had previously speculated to each other that I would probably have anothe rbaby in the next year. Turns out that one has children who are 18 months apart and the other has them 19 months apart and so they probably thought that with a 21 month age gap I was kind of dragging my heels!

So I was fretting over nothing and they were both very pleased for me.

Tell All Your Family, Tell All Your Friends

Now F_'s parents were with the programme it was time to go live with my folks. We had chosen Sunday dinner as an opportunity to tell my parents and sisters all at once. Our cunning plan was to present them with an ordinary photo wallet and ask who wanted to see some cute baby photos. This worked like a charm and everyone gathered round expecting to see new photos of O_. The scan photos were met with squeals of delight. Both my sisters claimed that they had suspected for sometime that I was pregola but strangely neither of them had mentioned it to each other or Mum - hmmmm me thinks a bit of hindsight at work there :) Congratulations were offered all round and everyone was very excited by the news.

So with the family over it was time to move to the rest of our nearest and dearest, our closest friends. This was a bit tricker because as we have previously mentioned one of the people on the email list we use to keep in touch with mates recently suffered a miscarriage. Considerate of her feelings we decided to take the initial announcement and subsequent congratulatory email offlist and approach her individually. An email to our chums and one to the couple who lost their own baby was met with many kind congratulations.

Now there was just work to tell...

Oh Mummy, Daddy...

Down to Essex to see my ma and pa.

We've been holding off on seeing them for a few weeks, waiting for the all clear from the scans. It was all a bit up in the air until virtually the last minute. There was a possibility they would be in Suffolk, in Nana's holiday cottage, but this was all down to Nana herself. Nana is slowly fading away now, and she's become increasingly difficult for my mother to cope with. When K___ was pregnant with Olivia, back in May 2006, I wrote about how Nana was "quite dependant on daily visits from my mother and she's no longer the extremely bright, irreverent and creative woman I grew up with". Back then I was quite resigned to thinking she might not make it through to seeing Olivia born. At risk of demonstrating quite how poor my powers of perception are, I am very resigned to thinking she won't make it through to see the next one born, and to be honest, it will be a blessing.

... I'm getting ahead of myself.

The drive down was pretty easy - 2.5 hours on the nose, arriving just before lunch. Olivia slept for about two hours of it, which was great. We pulled up outside my parent's house and got her from her seat and K___ stood her in the street (it's a cul de sac), with the car shielding her from my parent's house, in case they were looking and put bunches in Olivia's hair. She looked very cute indeed!

Olivia seemed a bit wary of my folks at first. I suppose that at her age, she doesn't really have very strong bonds to my folks yet, though I'm sure they will come. After a few minutes, she was fine, pointing at the cat and pronouncing, 'Gat!' The dog seemed to phase her a little, but when you're that size, I guess a whippet is quite imposing, even if he's the soppiest thing on the planet. Poor Rex - he only wants to be friendly, and can't understand why we're not keen on him getting too near. It's particularly galling to him because he and the gat - sorry; cat - are best mates and he can't figure why she's allowed to go near Olivia and he isn't.

My mother served us lunch, then nipped over to Nana's to sort her lunch out. Nana's now completely dependant on my mother. When she got back, the conversation naturally (because everything is about her, maaaan) turned to Olivia. K___ had slipped me the scan pictures and when an appropriate comment - I'm afraid I can't recall what it was - I was able to say, 'Well, there's something we wanted to tell you...' and whip out the scan pictures. In an almost exact analogue of the last time, my mother said, 'You're not, are you..?' to K___, and we told them all about the scans and how we hadn't been up because we wanted to break the news officially etc.

My next job was to get hold of my brothers. Last time, I told E___ first, so this time I would tell C__. Except his phone was going to answering machine. So I told E___. E___ was in the middle of moving into a new property with his girlfriend, so I got straight to the point and kept it brief. He was delighted for us, naturally.

My mother was due to collect Nana at about four-ish, and K___ had arranged to meet some of her old pals from NCT (I'm sure she'll fill you in on this). My dad and I took the dog out for a wander, but it was clear his heart wasn't in it. Whippets get cold easily because they're such skinny buggers, and it was drizzling and windy and consequently, we didn't go far. However, it was while we were out that C__ called me back and I gave him the good news. I also had to apologise because we'd had a chat just a couple of days before, and the subject of babies had come up and I kind of hemmed and hawed about it and gave the impression it would be nice if it happened, but we weren't trying right now. He was delighted for us. His wife called out, 'Oh, leave your poor wife alone!' and then he tried to get me to say if we knew the sex.

We're not telling, and anyway, it's too soon to tell.

Not long after we arrived back home, so too did K___, and then my mother turned up with Nana. At first she seemed pretty good. She was engaging with Olivia, drumming on the table with her and laughing and smiling. She seemed pleased when we told her about the new baby and asked when it was going to be born and those kinds of questions. I asked her whether she'd ever imagined seeing great grandchildren when she was young and she laughed.

My mother was in kitchen preparing some tea and called out that it was nearly ready. I had turned from Nana for just a second or two but I quickly realised she wasn't quite right. All of a sudden the animation had gone from her. Where she'd been laughing and joking, she was just sitting stock still, staring in to space with a vacant expression on her face. I asked her whether she was feeling okay and she said, 'no,' in a very timid voice. That was it for the rest of the afternoon. The spark had died. We knew she got like this and that we normally only got to see her at her best, but this was the first time we'd seen it and it was pretty horrible.

I'm glad we got to see her, and I'm glad we got to tell her about the new baby, but I do have to be honest and say that if she doesn't live to see it born, it won't be a bad thing. I just wish she could slip away quietly one night.

In some ways, it seems wrong to be writing about death when this blog is about life, but we all know that death is what gives life its value, that our short lifespan makes it all the more important to enjoy our time.

Oh fuck it; I've gone all Disney, and Elton John's playing bloody Circle of Life in the background.

I really didn't mean for that to happen. I just mean that it's okay, it's natural, and I don't want Nana to think she has to hang on, for me, for my mother, or for the new baby. Not that she needs it, but she has our permission to go if she wants.

And you know, being a firm believer in evolution, there really is a part of her in her descendants. It's not a matter of belief - you could go and get tested for it. 'Mitochondrial Nana'. Even if she never sees the new baby, she's still around. I find that an incredibly, genuinely, happy thought.

I Took a Picture of You

So, they next day it was off for another scan. As with my previous pregnancy we decided to go for a Nuchal Scan to determine the risk of Downs Syndrome. This is something we are particularly concerned about as my Uncle had Downs and we know just what the implications are would want to be pre-warned about the chances of our child being affected. Last time we got tested we were living in Essex and working in London and so London seemed to be the obvious place to go when this test wasn't available locally on the
NHS. As I am not over 35 I did not qualify to have the test done on the NHS so again it was a case of paying to go privately.

Having shopped around we decided that the Fetal Medicine Centre in Harley Street, where we had the tests last pregnancy, was the place for us again. Scanning is big business these days with increasing numbers of providers offering services such as 4D scans. Although there was several places in our new region offering scans, it seemed to us that these were just profit making businesses. The Fetal Medicine Centre ploughs profits back into research via the Fetal Medicine Foundation. Data collected from blood tests, scans and patient pregnancy outcome forms goes towards ongoing research to identify markers for Downs in pregnancy. We felt that by going there we would still be paying the same amount for private scans but that future parents might benefit from our data.

Anyway off we went to Harley Street. The risk of Downs increases with maternal age and so before I even walked in the door I already had a higher base rate risk. Blood tests for certain chemicals and scanning for markers such as fetal blood flow, presence of the nasal bone, angle of the face and nuchal fold fluid combine to generate a risk figure. With O_ the risk came out as 1 in 15000.

So after just few pages of Marie Claire in the waiting room I was called in for the blood tests. I'm not good with needles but it was soon over. Another few pages of magazine back in the waiting room and we were called in to the scanning room. We were very excited to see the baby again, particularly as the resolution of the nuchal scans is so much better than that of the bog standard NHS ones. Unfortunately getting that level of details involves some pretty accurate scanning. To get this accurate scanning to get the measurements she needed the sonographer got pretty hardcore on my stomach. I have worried in the past about the dangers of baby O_ wacking me in the tummy but turned out that I needed have worried as the sonographer was merrily applying what felt like her body weight behind the scanner, to the extent where at one point I pretty much yelped in pain. F_ later asked me to show him how hard it was but was soon squirming away from my fist applied to his gut in demonstration.

Anyway half an hour of staring misty eyed at our gorgeous baby made up for the discomfort. The sonographer was able to reassure us that all the things that should be there were there and all the things that shouldn't be weren't. Eventually she left us gazing as some photos from the session and went off to get the blood results. Combining all the scan and bloods data together she was able to confirm a 1 in 12,500 risk, a pleasing result.

Here is M2






























The sonographer also took a punt on the sex of the baby but we're not telling so there...

Oh and the due date has been pushed forward to 28th October.

My Eyes Remain, Hovering. Witnessing.

So, it's Wednesday, 16th April, 2008. Olivia is fifteen months old to the day. I have a dentist's appointment at midday, which I'm really not looking forward to. Nothing special going on otherwise.

Oh - unless you count the 12 week scan at the local hospital. Yeah, I should probably write about that.

We turned up in good time. I haven't been nervous. I've been very calm about the whole thing, but on the short drive down, the butterflies kicked in. Not big ones, but they were there.

The parking meter at the hospital is stupid. Or I am. It's completely counter-intuitive. I know how to get a parking ticket from the machine. You read the rates, insert the groats, hit the tit and wait for the ticket, right? You certainly do not read the instructions, but after a couple of goes, this is what I am forced to do. I know; my 'bloke rating' has plummeted.

You have to 'enter your car registration'. There is a numeric keypad. My registration contains alpha characters. The keypad does not, like a telephone keypad, also have numbers on it. I decide to try entering just the numerals. It seems to like them. I get a ticket. Normally, I would walk away moaning about the stupidity of the machine. Today, I throw my hands up as I walk back to K___, and mention it's stupid, but keep it to just that.

The maternity unit is the brick version of a Borg cube. Minus the scary hive-mind androids and super-advanced tech everywhere. Actually, it's just a rather featureless cuboid, but that doesn't sound as poetic. Inside, it's a pretty run-of-the-mill NHS hospital unit. Bland paint on the walls, lots of faintly terrifying health-related notifications and posters on the walls.

While signing in, a wonderfully quick process, it was pointed out to us that we would need to purchase a card from a machine on the wall to exchange for copies of the scans. Only problem? It takes five pounds in coins. I'm not having a good time with machines. We didn't have five pounds in coins, so I borrow a tenner from K___ and leg it to the other side of the building and up a fight of stairs, buy a packet of crisps purely for the change and run back.

Unlike the first time we did this, nearly two years ago now, luck decides to play nicely, and I'm back in time to buy the card and sit down for a couple of minutes getting my breath back before we get called into the scan room. K___ lies down on the couch and pulls her skirt below the bottom of the baby bump. Having done this before, she knows that an elasticated waistband is an essential. She's also had enough to drink to ensure the best picture - a three quarter's full bladder greatly increases the clarity. The scan operator, a surly human/potato hybrid with terrible highlights, squirts gel onto K___'s stomach and places the ultrasound on her belly.

Here we go...

Of course, there's a momentary pang of terror. What if the baby has no head or three legs or something? These things do happen, after all. The fear's stupid and statistically irrational and it's gone before you quite know what it is you're scared about, but it is there until the moment the scan goes sufficiently deeply inside K___'s belly for a baby to appear. It's lying louchly on it's back, facing left, arms waving theatrically. All of a sudden, I'm an expert. Everything is in it's right place. It's fine. I don't know this, but from the perspective of someone with fuck all training in reading an ultrasound scan, it is immediately apparent that everything is fine. Eventually, Mrs Potato-head will get around to confirming my obviously-correctly medical opinion by doing some measurements. She will sound entirely bored when she does indeed confirm my diagnosis. Everything is fine. We have a healthy baby, and an active one too, by the looks of things.

My eyes prick with tears.

After this, we have to sit for forty minutes waiting for a nurse to take a urine sample and some blood (not at the same time, don't be ridiculous!) from K___. We gaze at the grainy snaps before us and smile.

She's Cold

Since I've been pregnant I have been constantly frozen. At first I thought winter was just going on a bit long but then I realised that everyone else was fine and it is just me that is cold. At work my staff sit there with fans on and windows open while I sit shivering in my office with a heater on. Having had a bit of a scout about on the Internet is seems that it is not uncommon to feel cold, particularly during the first trimester. With O_ I was roasting hot from day one. F_ used to ask if we could have the heating on and I would just tell the poor man to put another jumper on! Oh well, the 'hotter than the fire of a thousand suns' thing will kick in soon enough.

So Sorry

We found out recently that someone we know recently had a miscarriage. It is quite likely that their baby would have been born at around the same time as ours. We know how lucky we are and really appreciate all our blessings. We are in a bit of a quandry as how to approach breaking our news to our friends. Our dating scan and nuchal scan are finally coming up tomorrow and the day after and once it is confirmed that everything is ok we are ready to start telling people. We had planned to announce it on the Yahoo group we share with our group of friends but the bereaved friend is on there and we just don't want to upset her while she is so fragile. We have decided instead to send an offlist email and seek advice from one of her close friends as to how it is best to approach relating the news to her.

Strangely when I was at around the same stage in my last pregnancy a friend had an ectopic pregnancy and lost dangerous amounts of blood. You realise how fragile life is and how lucky you are.