One more day. 17+3.No major incidents. Although every twinge, tummy movement, kick or gas makes me more anxious than the last one.
This is mine and Hope's journey. We are in it together. I am 18 weeks pregnant with a little girl. I have an incompetent cervix. I had surgery at 12 weeks to try to keep my cervix closed to keep her in. At my scan at 16 weeks my membranes were funneling into my cervix - how is this possible? I then had to have immediate emergency surgery to salvage the suture (what ugly words). That was a week and a bit ago. At the 17 weeks scan last Thursday the stitch showed to be holding.
We have no idea what's going to happen. We are living with the constant fear that my membranes will rupture, and whilst this might not spell immediate doom it greatly increases the chances of infection and preterm delivery. We have been down that road once before, we know what we're up against ( a story for another time). I think that makes it harder. Worse.
My reality at the moment is the bed or couch. I can't do anything for my little boy who at three and a half is just too young to understand. I can't lift him to bed, onto the toilet or even for a cuddle. It is so hard!
I am a person who likes to do things for herself. I cook. I clean. I keep house. I am not used to needing help for EVERYTHING. I can have a shower, go to the loo and that's about it. Imagine that.
This is only the beginning. I am resigned to going on bedrest for Hope in hospital. Full time. Away from my family. Away from my home. All alone. Once I go in I'll be there until I'm 32-33 weeks preggers. Magic numbers. An achievable goal? Let's hope I can do it. The cost? My sanity perhaps.
We knew this pregnancy would not be easy. I think human nature allows us to believe that the worst will not happen. I think I believed that I'd get through this pregnancy with a small to medium amount of disruption to our happy life. I have two cold sores on my top lip. I haven't had a cold sore since James was born in 2010. They are a bell weather. I am run down. Anxious. Stressed.
Going into hospital means daily clexane shots - painful bastard injections into your tummy. Essential when movement is limited to prevent blood clots forming. Potentially fatal. They are awful. They leave bruises. I know I am a sook about needles. My issues are getting worse, not better.
My plan is to blog daily about my experiences. To count down. Some days will be harder, darker than others. I want to stay positive for my baby girl. I have the support around me that I need to get through this:: a wonderful, compassionate husband, adorable son, fantastic family and friends here in the wonderful community we live and a fantastic obstetrician. It is doable, and as my doctor said from this angle it seems like a very long way away but in the big scheme of our lives it's really only a short time. And the prize.......