27 Jun 2007 – Project Curbar

27 June 2007 – about 6 weeks

Ha, beware what you wish for… spent yesterday feeling quite rough and today feeling utterly drained and nauseous. Oh joy. And I know exactly what’s in store for me. With the Popster I felt like this around 7.5 weeks. So… does that mean I’m further ahead than I think? Or does it mean I’ll get over the m/s a week earlier? Or does it mean I’m carrying twins (like I keep winding DH up about)? Or is it just one of those things?! Hmmm.

I know I’m so knackered cos I keep wakening up at 0400hrs to wee. Joy. I’d forgotten about that. I’d also forgotten how much I craved eggs. Last night I sweet-talked DH into boiling me an egg to eat whilst watching Carcrash TV (Big Brother). Well, I tickled him till he mooed, then he made me it. It was absolutely gorgeous – the smooth texture, the meaty yolk, ooh, droooool! I had another straight from getting in from work and it was just as lush. I could murder one now, but that’s a bit dodgy. And I’ll be windy as a windy thing.

Only a quick update tonight – off to cuddle DH. Finally managed to get photo added of the HPT that just blew our world apart last Sunday. Was the line so strong cos it’s twins…? (That was a joke, btw) surprise - smallres

24 Jun 2007 – Project Curbar

I’ve mostly been being Witch From Hell today. Poor DH. Well, and poor me too!

I started having a go at him this morning – he’d made a lovely fruit salad in his bid to get me to eat better. Unfortunately I smelled and saw a strawberry that was more than mouldy, it was nearly running round the kitchen under its own steam. Although he said he’d washed all the other strawberries so they were fine, I refused to eat it. I’ve had food poisoning too many times. I accepted that maybe I was being a tad OTT so I allowed The Minx to have some. Funny old thing, 8 hrs later she just exploded out her nappy – runny poo bloody everywhere: front, back, sides… She stank the car out, but just sat there looking smug. We stripped her off in the boot of the car. She was shivering and so miserable, while me and The Boss had a huge barny because he’d not brought a complete change of clothes for her, as I’d asked him 3 times to do and check.

In between that, I was cross at him leaving the fridge door wide open for hours again (and the fridge is groaning with food that will go off – far too much for a family of 3. I think he thinks I’m bringing in a salary 4 times what I am). And he went overdrawn on the joint account. Again.

I had a huge panic in Borders – I felt wet like I was bleeding. Thank God, false alarm. In the manky bogs of Borders I said a quick prayer of thanks, patted my tummy and told Grublet to stay in mummy’s tummy, and sighed with relief. Every day is just a bonus.

Hopefully tomorrow I can do an emotion *other* than sad or mad. I practiced smiling today, so maybe I can do it 😉

23 Jun 2007 – Project Curbar

The mw phoned this morning: my booking-in appointment is July 5th. Wahey! A whole month sooner than I’d thought. Same day my in-laws are flying up to stay. Originally we were all going to meet them at the airport and tell them the good news, but I’ll be answering a stack of questions instead… I can’t remember how early you can hear a baby’s heartbeat with a handheld doppler. I just remember that I didn’t with the Popster at my booking-in appointment, but the fact that I was heaving all day every day reassured me instead.

Talking of that, still no real symptoms – the fatigue and going off wine (tastes far too strong) and weeing all the time at night are probably all wishful thinking-induced :-S

Talking of The Minx, I spent the last half-hour with her cuddling up to me watching Glastonbury. Makes a change from the ZZ Top and Metallica her daddy plays her! She ‘sang’ along with Bjork, loved the Specials, didn’t think much of the Klaxons and played her little drum with one of the Jazz World drum groups. She bounces and waves her hands above her head to dance and coos in a really high-pitched voice to sing. But right now she’s whingeing for her dinner – DH is cooking and it’s way too late. Better go rescue them.

22 Jun 2007 – Project Curbar

One of my brothers phoned today out the blue. My mum told him my news about Project Curbar. God, now all my family know, except my Dad. I asked her not to tell anyone and she’s been telling the world. Not because she’s proud or pleased – the stroke she had halfway through her 5 cycles of chemo last year pretty much destroyed the ’emotion’ bit of her brain. Well, the bit that can *show* emotion. Oh God what’s worse? Not to feel any emotion or to feel it but not be able to show it?

Anyway, when my periods came back after I stopped BFing The Minx, it did occur to me to get pg as fast as I could to give my Mum something to look forward to, maybe something to focus on a bit? She was always on at me to have kids. But I figured that was a really stupid reason to have children (well, dur, how astute of me to figure that out).

I told Mum on Sunday when I found out I was pg (a) cos she knew DH was buying an HPT and (b) I thought she’d be pleased / have something to look forward to / etc. She didn’t seem pleased or displeased. Just said “Oh right”. Today it occurred to me that now she’s kind of accepting her diagnosis, she’s maybe thinking that she won’t live long enough to see my baby? That’s what I’m thinking. Call me morbid, but I’m seeing every milestone in my pregnancy as another milestone towards her death.

What’s with the doom and gloom today? Ok, this week? Maybe it was talking to my brother, and him confirming my fear that she’s really deteriorating now. I’m worried she’s not got long left now at all. A year ago, when she was diagnosed with terminal lung cancer, the consultant said he was hopeful that she’d have a year. She initially did so well on the chemo till she had that massive stroke. So where are we now? I kind of want to know if she’s only got weeks left, but I kind of don’t. A big part of my mum is dead already, that the stroke took. But (selfishly) I’m so not ready to say goodbye yet. I want her to see this baby and tell me if s/he’s like me as a baby or not. I want her advice and help and wisdom and stupid advice and old wives’ tales. I really wish I could share being a mummy with her. Becoming a mum myself changed my perception of her and our relationship.

I’m rambling now. Time to stop.

22 Jun 2007 – Project Curbar

The Minx is kind of better today – I think her tummy is still sore, but at least she’s eating. She’s swinging back and forth between being her normal giggly, singing self, blowing on her yellow whistle and lugging around her Bagpuss, and suddenly wanting a cuddle for 2 mins and crying real tears.

She’s such a love. She waves goodnight to the trees at night and laughs at flowers because they’re flowers (?! well, I’ve no idea why!). Her favourite things in the whole world right now are shoes (that’s my girl!) and hats of any kind. She pats her head whenever she sees anyone wearing a hat or helmet. Daddy is ‘Daddy’ and I’m ‘Daddy’ too but said with a head pat (I wear a hat to work). She saw 2 policemen in the supermarket the other day and was frantically slapping her little head till me and DH looked round and acknowledged we could see them too. Well, all I can say is, she didn’t get it from me…

Had to see the nurse yesterday as part of arriving at my new job. She was a mine of info, and promised to have a chat with the mw for me to persuade her to see me earlier. But she found protein in my urine sample. <Gulp> I hope it’s nothing. I left another one this morning (she said it might be cos I’d been cycling hard just before giving the original sample), and she’s not got back to me so fingers crossed.

Still no discernible pg symptoms. Some cramps and pains which I *always* interpret as impending doom. DH doesn’t even look up from his magazine every time I moan about it. “You were like this last time too” he says.

Still. I have Monday off, so I think I’ll spend the next 3 days getting as much kip as you can with a lively 14 month old! Och to tell the truth, it’ll be such a treat to spend time with The Minx. I work full-time and DH is a SAHD. I’m so jealous! There’s a bit of me can’t wait for Project Curbar to culminate (!) so I can spend a whole precious 9 months at home with him/her, DD and my lovely DH.

21 Jun 2007 – Project Curbar

Wahey paranoia strikes again – I was *that* close to doing another POAS test just to make sure I was still pg. I’m hungry as a horse, as shattered as normal, but no nausea or extra weeing. But logic finally broke through – no AF, no cramps, so probably still am. And what if it was + but weaker than Sunday? I’d only convince myself I was losing it, end up in a right old state, and what would be the point of that? I wish I had a fast-forward button to 12 weeks… Not that it’s a magic ‘Safe Keysies’ date, but I’d feel so much more reassured. Och well. Patience, Trout, patience…

The girl whose feelings I hurt the other day posted to thank me for my apology. I still feel bad for her, but feel so glad she read my apology. She certainly didn’t need to acknowledge it, but it was lovely that she did. I’m watching more and more (ok, 1 or 2) post that they think they’re miscarrying. Reading that, I feel like we’re in a game of skittles. All stood up, big and brave and nervous and expectant (bad pun – sorry). Then along comes the Grim Reaper and ‘swoosh’, down goes another to miscarriage. No-one knows who’ll be next, or who’ll be left standing in 2 months time. It’s heartbreaking. And all the time there’s a little voice in the back of your head going, “Next time, it could be you; it was once and it could be again”.

Such cheerful thoughts. Anyway, on a happier note I saw the doc yesterday. She was lovely, but as expected pretty much said ‘congratulations’, checked my blood pressure, gave me an Emma’s Diary (?! never seen that before!) and shooed me off with the number of the mw. More worryingly, when I spoke to the mw, she said she’d no appointments in July (!!!!) She’ll get to me. So now I have something else to freak about – if my booking-in is early Aug, at best I’ll be 12 weeks, possibly 15 weeks cos my dates are confused, and that leaves either no time or just 2 weeks to get seen for a scan to do the Nuchal fold screen. I didn’t before, but being 36 and an unhealthy old bag at that, I’m a bit concerned. I know there’s a mw shortage (I sign every petition campaigning for more), but leaving it that late is maybe a bit scary? And I don’t know if I can go ahead and sort out a private Nuchal fold screen test thingie without ever being seen by a mw. Or am I panicking? (again). I’ll sleep on it and have a think. Oh aye, except I’m not sleeping – The Minx has the squits really badly. Poor wee lamb was at the docs today herself. She’s a roughty-toughty little girl who never appears ill but today she just wants cuddles. So I think I’ll be spending all night doing just that.

Fingers crossed tomorrow brings DD feeling better and me feeling worse (IYKWIM – some ms would reassure me a whole lot). I can’t believe I’m even thinking that – mad cow!

19 Jun 2007 – Project Curbar

Oh bloody hell, I’ve just accidentally wounded some poor lass in my AN group. She posted that she was starting to miscarry and it made me cry, so I posted straight off what I was thinking. But I didn’t really reflect on the words I’d written. On going back tonight to see if actually she’d happier news after all, I was devastated to read that my words had cut her to the quick. Like she doesn’t have enough heartbreak without me adding to it. I hadn’t known what she’d had to put up with in the past. When she posted that, I could totally see how patronising and cruel my words came across. The complete opposite of what I’d intended. I thought about saying nothing, but felt so bad that I tried to apologise as best I could. I hope she reads my apology.

I’m so upset about it that I’m shaking now. But if I email her a personal apology, or add anything more, I’m scared I’ll make it all even worse. And I’ve caused enough hurt accidentally.

One comment she said, “If you’ve never had problems, then don’t tell me… ” etc. I thought, my God love, if you only knew. That stung, but (a) there’s no way I’d start saying, “well actually, here’s my tale of woe about my dying mother, my health, my sick husband, my worries about another mc, a job that made me ill, etc, etc”, and (b) I think her troubles are pretty devastating anyway – I agree that in comparison I’ve no worries at all.

So. Now I feel sick and guilty as sin for being a thoughtless cow, I feel guilty about being pregnant and I’ll never, never post anything more meaningful than “Hooray” or “I’m sorry to hear that”. What a cr*ppy end to the day. That poor girl.

19 Jun 2007 – Project Curbar

Tues 19 Jun 2007

It’s now just over 2 days since I found out that Project Curbar was underway. I need to talk about it to someone, so to save my poor DH’s ears I thought I’d start a diary.

We’d not been trying to conceive; I’d only just managed to persuade The Boss that starting soon for #2 would be a good idea because I’m such an old bag (36 😉 ). Anyway, these last few months I’ve used a lot of pregnancy tests on my AF due date if we’d done the deed even *vaguely* around my usual ovulation day. However, last month for once I didn’t even consider the possibility. We’d just moved house due to my job-change and promotion, and the stress had brought on AF 10 days early. We’d only DTD twice because we were so bloomin’ knackered and that was absolutely nowhere near ov. When I discovered I was 3 days late I just assumed it was my hormones still going mental. I even teased DH that I was pg again.

So, whilst visiting family this weekend I asked him to pick me up a pg test kit. It went on the shop conveyor belt right next to a big bunch of flowers he bought my sister for babysitting our 14 month old daughter, The Minx. He said the assistant gave him a winning smile and asked if he was celebrating. “Nah, one’s for the sister-in-law, the other’s for the mistress”, he’d replied, leaving the woman to ponder which was which.

When we got home that night around midnight, I used the kit purely because I had a full bladder from such a long journey home. Something very unladylike escaped my lips when I saw the thick, dark blue line appear immediately in the square box, before the wee had even risen to the end of the square, never mind the control window. My previous 2 pregnancies never produced a BFP so strong.

I ran out to the car where DH was unloading and whispered loudly (waking the neighbours would have been a VERY bad move), “You’ve got to see this!” He took one look and his jaw dropped. It’s an understatement to say that neither of us was expecting it. He managed to give me a huge hug, I found my voice again and wished him a Happy Father’s Day (it was, by about 30 mins). So while he staggered around making goldfish faces, I read and reread the instructions of the pg test, convinced that an el-cheapo Sainsbury’s one was probably well-dodgy.

Two days later, it’s still not sunk in, really. I’m not as excited as I was with my first 2 pregnancies. The first one ended in miscarriage (on Mother’s Day 2005 – oh the irony) at 7 weeks, just as I’d started getting really excited. The second one resulted in a wonderful daughter, but the first half was spent utterly paranoid I’d lose that one, too. This time around, I know all the stats about miscarrying, know there’s nothing I can do to prevent it if it’s going to happen. So I’m determined to enjoy this pregnancy for however long it lasts – 9 days or 9 months. The main cloud on my horizon is the fact that I’ve only been doing this job for 2 weeks so my news will go down like a lead balloon. But no point telling anyone early – I’ll hold off just as long as I can. That’ll be particularly difficult. More on that another time… Still, on the bright side my in-laws will be delighted at the news of their possible second grandchild. I can’t wait to tell them when they visit in 3 weeks. My own family are a lot more sanguine, as this will be the 6th grandchild.

Anyway. Today I’m swinging back and forth between being optimistic because I’ve no pain or bleeding and paranoid because I’ve no nausea and am permanently tired so can’t tell if I’m particularly fatigued. “I’ve got no symptoms! I’m probably not pregnant! There’s been a horrible mistake!” I wailed at my long-suffering DH. He sighed, muttered something about Dear-God-Here-We-Go-Again, and gently pointed out that last time I whinged about not having symptoms barely 2 weeks before chucking my guts up day after day for the next 3 months. I think I’m losing it – I can’t wait…

Anyway, I see the doctor tomorrow, so let’s see what happens.