Hello dot!

Wow.  Long time, no update. 

My husband and I (crikey, I sound like the Queen) went to MyUltrababy near Canary Wharf about a week ago for the early scan.  I was a day off 8 weeks, by my calculations, though was still concerned as to why I'd had so many negative pregnancy tests after my period was due.

Before the scan I had to drink 2.5 pints of water.  That is a lot of water.  Considering I'm currently running to the toilets twice as often as usual at the moment anyway, that was practically an obscene amount of water.  Of course, it wasn't helped by a little girl in the waiting room at the clinic, for whom the greatest toy in the word - ever was playing with the water dispenser.  One of those ones that dispenses water in a noisy trickle to a paper cup... and then goes GLUG GLUG GLUG as the bubbles rise to the top.  I swear I nearly weed myself there and then.

So we went into the clinic bang on time, and the sonographer (is that what they're called?) rubbed the cold jelly on my stomach.  All I could see was a massive empty sac.  My heart sank.  Or beat faster.  Or did something.  Then she zoomed in.  And then zoomed in again.  And suddenly there was a tiny dot there.

To get a better view, the sonographer recommended an internal scan.  She actually let me go to the toilet before this, which was much appreciated!  Then I basically had a thin metal willy inserted in me, and the same sort of scan was done again... and this time she found a heartbeat!  We saw it on screen - a flickering.  She said that I wasn't 8 weeks - she measured it at 5 weeks and 6 days - a mere 2.7mm little dot.  Crazy.  But she said it was a viable pregnancy.

So I guess (I hope) I ovulated late, as this would explain the early negative pregnancy tests (either that or there could be a problem with the development, but I'm trying not to think about that).  I got a print out of the scan (not that there's much to see), and we went home.

So why have I been so slack about blogging?  I'm absolutely exhausted.  Like nothing I've ever known before.  I find it hard to cross the room to pick the remote up to change channel.  I would rather not eat than prepare dinner.  Work is a real chore - not least that (whilst luckily not actually sick yet), I seem to be nauseous constantly.  Which is always a delight on a rush hour tube.

So I will try to update more often.  But honestly, typing anything longer than my name at the moment is a real struggle.  My 12-week scan is booked for the start of March.

Things to worry about

This week has been really tough.  Here are the things I've been worrying about:

• Stomach cramps - a lot like period pains but sometimes easing off and sometimes becoming moderately severe - severe enough that I'd normally have reached for the painkillers
• The fact that I had three negative pregnancy tests in a row before I got a positive result (but well after my period was due) - does this mean there's something wrong with my horomone levels or the baby?
• The fact that I've had no morning sickness, food aversions, cravings or feel any different at all, other than slightly tender boobs and stomach cramping
• The fact that I watched One Born Every Minute, and spent the next two hours crying, not at the miracle of childbirth (fuck that), but at the fact that a massive fucking watermelon has to emerge from my body somehow and I'm supposed to facilitate that.  My husband has banned all future viewings of One Born Every Minute and has "un-series linked" it from the Sky+ box.
• The fact that I also cried at the Winalot TV advert.  This is not normal.  But the beagle's ears were so cute and floppy, and the old lady's dog was her best friend!  (Blub, blub.)
• I then worry that I'm actually going to spend the rest of my life worrying - if all is well with the pregnancy, I've then got to be responsible for another human being for the rest of my life.  Chilling.

So, how am I dealing with it?  As a firm believer of "one step at a time", I'm trying to focus on the pregnancy itself.  I totally swing from "I'm sure everything's fine," and reassure myself on pregnancy forums that other people too are having stomach cramps / no symptoms / low HCG levels.  Then I read other forums where stomach cramps / no symptoms / low HCG levels are a sure sign of miscarriage. 

So I decided, to stop myself worrying (or at least contain it a little), I'm going to book myself in for an early private scan near where I work.  At 7 weeks, I hope we should be able to see the heartbeat if all is well.  And if all isn't well, I'd much rather know now than in a month's time when my NHS scan is due.

We get the scan on Tuesday.  Wish me luck.

Loco parentis

I'm lucky in that I'm fairly close to my parents.  We live a couple of hours away, but we speak on the phone pretty much every day, and I've got a good relationship with them.  I don't tell them every tiny detail of my personal life - I would never confide in them if my husband and I had had a row, for instance, but they generally know what's going on in my life day to day.
So keeping this massive news from them is a nightmare.  The day after I found out I was up the duff, I took off as a sick day; I'd been so overwhelmed by the news that I hadn't slept at all.  I hardly ever take a sick day, and it was still quite quiet from the Christmas period so I wasn't really missed.  But not being able to tell my parents how I was feeling was really tricky.

My husband and I had originally agreed to wait a month or so longer before telling our folks, but it felt awful being on the phone to them each day when I had had the biggest news possibly of my life, and trying to pretend that nothing had changed.

So, after a bit of discussion, we decided to tell our parents.  It sounds ridiculous, but I was terrified about telling them.  I barely slept again the night before I was due to call and break the news.  I'm 32, and happily married, and somehow I thought they'd tell me off!  I guess it's because I knew it would come as a big surprise to them (I'm hardly the most maternal of women), and I know they hate surprises.  But the fear was disproportional.

I called at 9.30 on a Saturday morning.  My dad answered, and we chatted briefly about the dinner party they'd been to the night before.  After a while, I said, "Is Mum there?"

"Yes," he said.

"Could you put me on speakerphone?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.  And pressend a button that promptly cut me off.  I phoned them back.  It was engaged.  I left it a few minutes and tried again.

My Mum answered.  "For God's sake, Kate, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said.  "Could you put me on speakerphone?"

"Just tell me what it is!" I could tell she was expecting some sort of catastrophic news.

"There's nothing wrong, Mum.  I'm pregnant!"

"You're what?!  She's pregnant!"  (I am guessing she was speaking to my Dad and the speakerphone functionality has somehow bypassed the over 60s.)  "Oh, that's lovely news!"

Once I'd told them, I felt much better and slept like a baby on Saturday night.  If that's not a bad simile given the circumstance.

Breaking news

As soon as I knew the news, I wanted to tell my husband.  I called him from the shopping centre at Canary Wharf; there's nowhere quiet, but it wasn't quite the lunchtime rush.  He's not really supposed to answer his phone at work, so I knew he'd be a bit guarded.

"Hello?" he said.

"Hiya, it's me," I said.  "Unfortunately we're not going to be able to go zorbing for your birthday."

"Oh," he said, still with his "professional" voice on. 

"... Because I'm pregnant!"

"Right," he said.  I knew he couldn't really talk, so it was really amusing to listen to his muted reaction.  He continued, "And is that definite?"

"100%, the doctor said."

"OK.  Thanks for letting me know."  I smiled.

"See you later," I said.

When I did get home, he met me at the door with a massive hug, and a special dinner he'd cooked in honour of the occasion.  A lovely evening.

Doctoring the results

My appointment with the private GP was this morning at 11.30.  I'm lucky it's a benefit work provides with no cost to me.  They can almost always see you the same day, and it's two minutes' walk from my office, which is just so much more convenient than my NHS GP; in order to make an appointment with him, I have to phone a premium rate phone number (I kid you not), hold for at least 10 minutes, and am then almost always told to call back the next day.  It's Kafka-esque in the extreme.

It was blowing a gale down by the Thames as I made the short journey to the doctors from my office.  I was thinking what bloody awful weather and how freezing cold the wind was.

I was half-expecting my period to start this morning (almost inevitably any symptom I might have will stop about three hours before my GP appointment), but still nothing - and I was still crampy. 

I thought about what advice I'd give myself in the doctor's position, after another - undoubtedly negative - pregnancy test was administered: "Give it a week, if you still don't have a period, come back and see me."

I waited for about five minutes in the waiting room before being called through.

"What can I do for you?" asked the doctor.

"Where to start, really!" I blustered.  "My husband and I have started trying for a baby - which is lovely.  And my period is late, actually, but I've done several pregnancy tests and they're all negative.  Plus I keep having really strong period pains and I just wanted your advice."

"OK," he said.  "We'll do a pregnancy test first just to be sure."  He handed me the little pot and pointed me in the direction of the bathroom. 

I had made sure to drink plenty of water and not go to the bathroom that morning, so I was absolutely ready to relieve myself.  I genuinely believe that there's something about doctors' bathrooms that completely takes away your ability to urinate.  I squatted there, holding a pot underneath my lady bits for about five minutes, coaxing enough urine into the pot for the test.  The second I took the pot away, my body went, "ahh", and released the motherload.

Hey ho.  Back into the doctor's room.  He took out his pregnancy test and talked to me whilst it was brewing.  "There is a chance it could be an ectopic pregnancy - that might be why your hormone levels are low and you're having cramping.  Far and away most likely is either pregnancy or just a hormonal blip."

I was fully expecting the "hormonal blip" - I knew that's what it was.  I was just concerned about a) what was causing it and b) how long it would take to un-blip itself.

The doctor removed the test from the urine and put the cap back on it.  He passed it over to me.  "This test is positive. You're pregnant," he said.

"Sorry?"

"You're pregnant."

"Oh.  Oh!  Are you sure? This is the first month we've been trying!"

"100%.  Sometimes depending on the test, they don't pick up the hormone levels, but you're definitely pregnant.  Make an appointment with your NHS GP."  (Easier said than done.)

"And what about the period pains?" I asked.

"Not period pains," he said.  "Implantation cramps.  Very common."

And that was it.  I found myself back outside with a dazed smile on my face.  I walked back towards the office, no longer noticing the howling gale, but rather thinking how refreshing the breeze was.

Then I found a quiet place to phone my husband and tell him the news.

Enough is enough.  Whilst I'm certain I'm not pregnant (even I can't deny three negative pregnancy tests), I'm beginning to get a bit freaked out by the fact my period feels like it's going to start any second, and yet nothing to show for it.  I'm normally pretty regular - give or take a couple of days - but I'm now ten days late.  I have all the usual symptoms of my period; stomach cramps, tender boobs... but this has been going on for four or five days - with no period!

The reason I'm concerned is I'd still really like to conceive an autumn baby; every day the period doesn't show up means it'll be a day later I ovulate.  And if, for whatever reason, my cycle has gone really screwy, perhaps I need a blast of some type of hormone pill just to get me back on track.

My period's only been this late once before; it was about three years ago, and my husband (a mere "boyfriend") back then, and I had had our only session of unprotected sex... and my period was late.  I was freaking out; I'd just started a new job and he was out of work.  The timing was less than ideal.  However, two pregnancy tests showed up negative, and when I went to see the doctor, he did a third, and convinced me I was definitely 100% not pregnant.  A few days later I got my period.  And oh, God, what a period.  The worst cramping I'd ever had, sickness diarrhoea - the works.  I remember lying on the cold floor tiles in a bathroom with no radiator, crying, unable to move as every time I moved even slightly, the spasming would start again.

So the period pains I'm having at the moment have put my back up - I'm apprehensive that it's going to be one of the worst periods I've ever had.  And so it's so frustrating that I can't just start and get it over with.

I've made an appointment with the private GP near where I work for tomorrow to hopefully get some advice.