Almost there

I have been meaning to write this post for a long time.  My previous two pregnancies have been well documented, Anna’s on here and James’ on  a pregnancy diary I wrote for (my diary doesn’t seem to be online any more). So I want to mark this little one’s transition into the world too.

He (it’s a boy!) has been the most active little fella from the start. I was able to feel something (a niggle) from implantation – an ultrasound at 6 weeks confirmed him to be in the same place as the niggle. From 10 weeks, I have felt some sort of movement, a flutter or a wiggle, and a few weeks after that, he started dancing and hasn’t stopped yet. He has kept me awake at night so many times, stretching and wriggling, unaware of the intimacy of the moment. I love those shared moments, the only downside being when it stops. Baby has to sleep sometime and, rare occurrence thought it is, his occasional refusal to respond to a few nudges and pokes is a reminder of that alternative universe.

He has saved me. From that alternative universe, from the envy, the isolation, the prejudices (mine, not theirs). Anna rescued me when I was drowning, she ensured that I was a survivor. But this pregnancy has been a whole other healing process for me. I never, ever thought I would be this lucky. It’s what I hoped for and it’s what I was prepared to fight for but I always knew that it was unlikely to happen at all or certainly unlikely to be as successful as it has been so far. I know this is a shit, horrible thing to read for those that are still struggling to have one baby, to be told that your second (successful) pregnancy after infertility is an even greater cure than the first. I am sorry if I’ve upset or annoyed you and if so, please feel free to unsubscribe.

He has a name. It’s a family name, chosen by John. There were some intense negotiations along the way but in the end I relinquished control on the basis that I was the one who wanted another baby enough to steer the ship back in the direction of Infertility Island, so if John was prepared to do that for me, he could have the honour of choosing his son’s name.

He will be here soon. He is due on the 23rd but if I am favourable, I can be induced any time from Friday. As I was induced at 13 days and 10 days over previously, there is a very good chance my body won’t be interested in getting things started this time either. So an induction may be inevitable regardless of how long I wait. So the big question is – which is better, before or after Christmas? I think a birthday in the run-up to Christmas is infinitely preferable to one in the wind-down afterwards so I am preparing myself for Friday. What do you think?

Que sera, sera

I’m still here!!!  Baby’s head is engaged, cervix is soft and favourable, bags are packed, work is finished, house is clean and we’re just about ready to go.  I had some pains last night but nothing today.  My acupuncturist reckons I’ll have a baby by the end of the week.  I am not so convinced – DS had to be sucked out of me after a long induction at 42 weeks.  I don’t mind though – I am feeling fine and would be happy enough to spend a week or so reading books and going to the cinema or having a laugh with DS.  This is one waiting game I can handle.

The final countdown

I had been planning on writing a post about how I only have a few weeks of pregnancy left in my entire life and how this makes me sad as I love being pregnant and would have given anything for another couple of chances. But that would have been self-indulgent and blinkered to how wonderful my life is now and my unpregnant self would definitely have unsubscribed at that point.

Yesterday Baby A wasn’t moving as much as usual. They say to count ten movements every two hours. I can usually count ten a minute. If she doesn’t move, I just give her a poke and she kicks back. This has provided endless reassurance but I knew that if it slowed down or stopped, I would be straight back in that place. And yesterday, there I was. Baby was moving but in infrequent slow ripples rather than constant vigorous kicks and punches. I lasted until 4pm and called obs. Obs was unavailable but midwife did a trace on baby’s heartbeat and all was well. By the time I got home, baby was making me squirm uncomfortably again. I have been told that I am probably overdoing it and to take it easy from now on. I admitted to the midwife that I had been working hard recently but didn’t confess the immense stress, strain and excitement that I probably put baby through on Tues night during Man Utd’s Champion’s League semi-final victory over Barcelona. The final is one week before my due date…..

So, baby is well, book has been launched and Man Utd are on their way to another historic double. This may well be my last few weeks of pregnancy ever but I have a lot to be thankful for.


Baby A is alive and well.  She is still a girl.  If she turns out to be a boy, I will just pretend she is a girl as I am looking forward to dressing her/him in pink, flowery summer clothes.  Sure it will just toughen him up, along with the name “A”, which is not very masculine.

Baby A is almost 5lbs and is now head down, after being breech for the last six weeks.  I had discussed the possibility of a section (if still breech) and an induction (if not) with my obs but, as everything looks good, I think I will just wait and see what happens.  Maybe we will get that “Honey, I think it’s time!” moment after all.

Once again, I am looking forward to giving birth.  I had a horrible induction on DS but I survived and, because I’m convinced things couldn’t possibly be as bad again, I am relaxed and excited.  And I know that, as soon as that first pain begins, I will be less than two days away from the day we have been waiting for for over three years.


I haven’t kept much of a record of this pregnancy as I haven’t wanted to boast, complain, seem complacent or forget where I came from. Physically, it has been plain sailing, at least since about week 16 when the sickness eased off. Emotionally, well that has been a mixed bag. Most people would talk about “when” I had the baby; I always stuck with “if”. But now I can’t think of any reason to presume my baby won’t make it. I’m well aware of the stats, I know what can happen. But I am also aware of the reasons why bad things happen and, as I am being carefully monitored, I know that I do not currently fall into any of the risk categories.

I would say that somewhere around week 30, I started expecting a baby. Now, at 33 weeks, I am starting to gather baby things together, just in case she comes early – as opposed to, just in case we are fortunate enough to end up with a baby. The fear, the absolute terror, of loss is still in my mind but it has been pushed into a corner by the overwhelming anticipation of joy.

I can’t believe I’m going to have a baby!!!!