It begins to look like a real possibility that I'll be having these babies on my own.
Fret not, we're not splitting up. But trying to ensure that we'll have someone around to look after the other three so that J can be with me is proving problematic...
My mum would come but the time I am likely to need her looks set to clash with a couple of things which mean she'll need to be in the UK.
She's starting a course of physiotherapy this week and at the end of February, my parents' mortgage term comes to an end. They were mis-sold an endowment 25 years ago and she'll need to be around to make onward arrangements, sign paperwork etc.
J's dad may or may not come over, but trying to get a straight answer is pretty tough.
So I've been looking around for standby, emergency childcare but it's not easy to find, not here anyway. In the UK I could look at a short term nanny contract through an agency or similar, but there doesn't appear to be anything similar here.
I had what seemed like a good lead on a mothers' help but she couldn't cope with my 3 on top of her existing commitment.
Friends can probably patchwork cover together, but it's a headache for sure.
On a positive not, good midwife appointment today. All doing well and still the presenting twin is cephalic.
Did you give birth alone? How was it? Do you have twins? Did this mean twin one got no skin to skin til after twin 2 arrived?
Monday 30 January 2012
Saturday 28 January 2012
Insomnia...
As if it won't be bad enough once the babies are actually here, the insomnia has kicked in already.
Actually, it's as much the waking up in the night and being unable to get back to sleep, which would be a lot easier without a snoring husband (to be fair this isn't every night, he must be a bit congested) and children who think that if they wake in the night the best solution is to head for mummy and daddy's bed and insinuate themselves in.
Some mornings, when we wake there are five (well, seven!) of us in there.
Generally we can rely on Sam to sleep all night in his own bed, Josiah manages about four nights in seven, often creeping in around 6am.
Ben on the other hand joins us at some point in pretty much every night. I know I need to deal with this - in a maximum of about 9 weeks there'll be two actual, living, breathing babies in there with us but at the moment I'm just too tired, so if I notice him I roll over and try to go back to
sleep.
Last night/ this morning I woke at around 4am, someone was kicking me in the bladder! There wasn't actually space to sit up in bed, or roll over because J was taking slightly more than half the bed and Ben was lying between us on top of the duvet.
I used the loo, and went back to bed, but the position I had been in was no longer comfortable,, there wasn't enough duvet to properly cover me and after about 5 minutes I gave up and got up to lie on the sofa and watch TV.
There's not a lot on at 4am and I found myself watching "Baby Story" episodes on Discovery Home and Health.
There's no doubt in my mind - though I could be wrong - that birth is a very different thing in the US and the UK.
Most US births seem much more medicalised, they seem to move much sooner toward intervention once a woman is in labour and there appears to be a greater inclination to induce babies once the 37 week mark has passed.
Comparing that with the experience of friends and fellow forum members in the UK is interesting, on this side of the pond, women tend to be begging not to be induced before at least 42 weeks (even when they are fed up of late pregnancy and desperate to meet their babies) unless there is a clinical reason to do otherwise, opting instead to be monitored daily to ensure that all is still well with baby and placenta.
I wonder what causes the difference in expectation. Prenatal education I assume - following different strands of research to reach differing conclusions.
I had the last class of my "Relaxation Course" yesterday. There are a lot of expectations there too. If the midwife had looked at me one more time as she said "Of course some of you may well have a caesarian", or "if you have an epidural"I might have had to hit her, or at least respond LOL, as it is I just practiced my relaxation breathing....
Actually, it's as much the waking up in the night and being unable to get back to sleep, which would be a lot easier without a snoring husband (to be fair this isn't every night, he must be a bit congested) and children who think that if they wake in the night the best solution is to head for mummy and daddy's bed and insinuate themselves in.
Some mornings, when we wake there are five (well, seven!) of us in there.
Generally we can rely on Sam to sleep all night in his own bed, Josiah manages about four nights in seven, often creeping in around 6am.
Ben on the other hand joins us at some point in pretty much every night. I know I need to deal with this - in a maximum of about 9 weeks there'll be two actual, living, breathing babies in there with us but at the moment I'm just too tired, so if I notice him I roll over and try to go back to
sleep.
Last night/ this morning I woke at around 4am, someone was kicking me in the bladder! There wasn't actually space to sit up in bed, or roll over because J was taking slightly more than half the bed and Ben was lying between us on top of the duvet.
I used the loo, and went back to bed, but the position I had been in was no longer comfortable,, there wasn't enough duvet to properly cover me and after about 5 minutes I gave up and got up to lie on the sofa and watch TV.
There's not a lot on at 4am and I found myself watching "Baby Story" episodes on Discovery Home and Health.
There's no doubt in my mind - though I could be wrong - that birth is a very different thing in the US and the UK.
Most US births seem much more medicalised, they seem to move much sooner toward intervention once a woman is in labour and there appears to be a greater inclination to induce babies once the 37 week mark has passed.
Comparing that with the experience of friends and fellow forum members in the UK is interesting, on this side of the pond, women tend to be begging not to be induced before at least 42 weeks (even when they are fed up of late pregnancy and desperate to meet their babies) unless there is a clinical reason to do otherwise, opting instead to be monitored daily to ensure that all is still well with baby and placenta.
I wonder what causes the difference in expectation. Prenatal education I assume - following different strands of research to reach differing conclusions.
I had the last class of my "Relaxation Course" yesterday. There are a lot of expectations there too. If the midwife had looked at me one more time as she said "Of course some of you may well have a caesarian", or "if you have an epidural"I might have had to hit her, or at least respond LOL, as it is I just practiced my relaxation breathing....
Thursday 26 January 2012
30 week Consultant Appointment...
I'm tired and I'm going out tonight so this will be brief.
We had the 30 week appointment with my consultant today. Of course I managed to go without my "Birth Plan" but we still had a good chat about Mr J's expectations of the birth and ours.
He didn't rule out my managing the early part of stage one in water.
He would advocate epidural, though he didn't insist and said that mobile epidural is perfectly possible here.
He'd prefer constant monitoring but agreed that it could be intermittent in the initial stages - we may need further discussion on what constitutes intermittent and regular LOL.
He reiterated that they would attempt a vaginal birth of a second twin in the breech position and said that as he'd ultrasound on admission and after the birth of twin 1, while attempting any manipulation/ turning and before I started to push, they could be pretty certain they were getting it right. He's only once, years ago had a situation where the first twin was a vaginal birth and the second a c-section and this was because a registrar, thinking they were drawing down a leg had instead brought an arm down the birth canal - with the scans this wouldn't happen, they would be certain position was right.
He said that there would be no rush to deliver twin two, no immediate ARM, no automatic syntocinon etc (as this was only done to stop everyone hanging about!) unless the scans showed evidence of the womb contracting down causing the placenta to start to separate.
All in all I feel positive about it - he also said that my iron won't be a bar to a vaginal birth and was quick to check ALL the figures concluding that it was probably low more because of dilution than anything else - I've had to argue this point in the past - but noting that my B12's a bit low too.
He didn't recheck, it can wait a few more weeks, he said.
And then he asked Ben - who was behaving beautifully, having had new shoes this morning - if he'd like to see the babies and he gave us a quick scan, so, today we have one cephalic and one breech - which is which he didn't know - "They keep changing how they call it" he said - still, clearly they still have room to move!
We asked how far along he thought we'd get and he said we were doing well and he thought we should make at least 34 weeks - so, that's when we need a grandparent here then!
The appointment over we made another for 34 weeks and then J, Ben and I had lunch out and I bought new pyjamas, and HUGE knickers for my hospital bag - I'm almost ready to pack the thing!.
And as I said earlier, I'm off out tonight.
I belong to a local camera club, it's just a hobby really but I've been lucky enough to sell a few photos in the last 12 months, and I'm tired but 'm going anyway. life will grind to a near halt a bit once the babies arrive, I'm not going to let it happen sooner than it has to!
We had the 30 week appointment with my consultant today. Of course I managed to go without my "Birth Plan" but we still had a good chat about Mr J's expectations of the birth and ours.
He didn't rule out my managing the early part of stage one in water.
He would advocate epidural, though he didn't insist and said that mobile epidural is perfectly possible here.
He'd prefer constant monitoring but agreed that it could be intermittent in the initial stages - we may need further discussion on what constitutes intermittent and regular LOL.
He reiterated that they would attempt a vaginal birth of a second twin in the breech position and said that as he'd ultrasound on admission and after the birth of twin 1, while attempting any manipulation/ turning and before I started to push, they could be pretty certain they were getting it right. He's only once, years ago had a situation where the first twin was a vaginal birth and the second a c-section and this was because a registrar, thinking they were drawing down a leg had instead brought an arm down the birth canal - with the scans this wouldn't happen, they would be certain position was right.
He said that there would be no rush to deliver twin two, no immediate ARM, no automatic syntocinon etc (as this was only done to stop everyone hanging about!) unless the scans showed evidence of the womb contracting down causing the placenta to start to separate.
All in all I feel positive about it - he also said that my iron won't be a bar to a vaginal birth and was quick to check ALL the figures concluding that it was probably low more because of dilution than anything else - I've had to argue this point in the past - but noting that my B12's a bit low too.
He didn't recheck, it can wait a few more weeks, he said.
And then he asked Ben - who was behaving beautifully, having had new shoes this morning - if he'd like to see the babies and he gave us a quick scan, so, today we have one cephalic and one breech - which is which he didn't know - "They keep changing how they call it" he said - still, clearly they still have room to move!
We asked how far along he thought we'd get and he said we were doing well and he thought we should make at least 34 weeks - so, that's when we need a grandparent here then!
The appointment over we made another for 34 weeks and then J, Ben and I had lunch out and I bought new pyjamas, and HUGE knickers for my hospital bag - I'm almost ready to pack the thing!.
And as I said earlier, I'm off out tonight.
I belong to a local camera club, it's just a hobby really but I've been lucky enough to sell a few photos in the last 12 months, and I'm tired but 'm going anyway. life will grind to a near halt a bit once the babies arrive, I'm not going to let it happen sooner than it has to!
Tuesday 24 January 2012
Birth Plans/ Thoughts/ Hopes
Anyone (especially twin mums) want to share theirs? And Anyone (especially those in the know) want to look over what I've got so far and tell me if I'm wide of the mark?
With Sam, my first, I had a beautiful birth plan that pretty much all went out of the window :laugh:
With Josiah my birth plan was all about "Don't ask me to sign consents etc without my husband present unless it's life and death" and "I want someone to tell me when it's my last chance for an epidural - I don't want to hear 'It's too late' when I'm screaming" :laugh: Again, useless as he was born before my bags made it from the car!
With Ben I didn't write a plan - again my bag didn't get opened - but I sat down with midwives etc to agree a plan of action.
This time my research has shown that most twin births, even where not automatic c-sections, are pretty highly medicalised and I don't want that UNLESS it's necessary.
I have my 30 week consultant appointment on Thursday and wanted to get some things jotted down in advance of that in case it come up.
OK, so this is for discussion rather than a finished thing IYSWIM...
Background:
Have had 3 vaginal births, in Nov '05, June '07 and Dec '08. All three babies weighted 7lbs13oz or thereabouts.
Though the first was delivered with the aid of forceps, this was following a fairly medicalised labour (epidural, immobile, constant monitoring, ARM and syntocinon.
The second and third were both quick, easy births and both babies were born within minutes of arrival at the hospital.
Assuming twin 1 is cephalic:
Would prefer to avoid epidural.
Would like to be free to be mobile throughout labour.
Happy to have CTG on admission and to be intermittently monitored.
Happy to have vaginal examinations as necessary.
Happy for a student to be present.
Would like to use birthing pool for 1st stage (In an ideal world would like to deliver in water but willing to get out for second stage) triggers for getting out of pool - rectal pressure/ waters breaking.
Happy for twin 2's position to be stabilised as twin 1 is born.
Happy to be examined to determine position of twin 2.
If twin 2 is transverse, transfer to theatre.
If twin 2 is breech would like to attempt vaginal delivery but willing to be guided by staff advice.
Happy to have active management of third stage.
Twins to have Vit K by injection.
Questions: Is there a time limit on delivery of twin 2? If so, why?
Do you advocate ARM for twin 2?
Monday 23 January 2012
Nesting...
Getting organised for a first baby is all about shopping lists of things you "need", DIY jobs to be finished off and so on.
I remember coming home from work when I was 33 weeks with Sam, our eldest, to be met by J. "Oh" he said, "By the way, Andy phoned, Nicki's partner?"
"Oh yes, I met her at aqua-natal, she can't come any more because they said her blood pressure's too high, we're going t have coffee in a couple of weeks when I'm on maternity leave, is she ok?"
"Yes, she's fine, baby was a boy and they've called him Jonathan"
I sat down, J looked concerned "What's up?"
"Nicki's due the same week as me, that baby's 7 weeks early!"
Our Nursery got painted that weekend... Suddenly it all seemed very real, and close.
Baby Jonathan did fine by the way and is now a bright, vivacious 6 year old and Nicki too recovered well.
On Saturday this week the midwife who runs the relaxation classes gently told me off when I admitted I hadn't packed my hospital bag yet. I'm 29 weeks and in my head babies are born at 41 weeks, that's 3 months away, so nothing, and I do mean NOTHING is ready. But this time of course it's twins and nothing is certain.
I took Josiah for new school shoes on Saturday afternoon, I don't remember when it was last just him and me out and about - it could be almost 3 years not counting times when we've been out with daddy too, or with a sleeping Ben.
He was immaculately behaved, so after we'd got the shoes he came with me while I bought some of the bits and pieces I need for the hospital bag and finally (after 3 children) signed up for the Boots Parenting Club. I treated him to some Rolos which he insisted on bringing home to share with daddy and his brothers.
Yesterday we collected the second cot and a changing table from a friend so we're full steam ahead now to start moving furniture around and getting things set up to make life easier when the twins are here.
Oddly though the first step is reorganising the children's rooms so I'd better get on...
I remember coming home from work when I was 33 weeks with Sam, our eldest, to be met by J. "Oh" he said, "By the way, Andy phoned, Nicki's partner?"
"Oh yes, I met her at aqua-natal, she can't come any more because they said her blood pressure's too high, we're going t have coffee in a couple of weeks when I'm on maternity leave, is she ok?"
"Yes, she's fine, baby was a boy and they've called him Jonathan"
I sat down, J looked concerned "What's up?"
"Nicki's due the same week as me, that baby's 7 weeks early!"
Our Nursery got painted that weekend... Suddenly it all seemed very real, and close.
Baby Jonathan did fine by the way and is now a bright, vivacious 6 year old and Nicki too recovered well.
On Saturday this week the midwife who runs the relaxation classes gently told me off when I admitted I hadn't packed my hospital bag yet. I'm 29 weeks and in my head babies are born at 41 weeks, that's 3 months away, so nothing, and I do mean NOTHING is ready. But this time of course it's twins and nothing is certain.
I took Josiah for new school shoes on Saturday afternoon, I don't remember when it was last just him and me out and about - it could be almost 3 years not counting times when we've been out with daddy too, or with a sleeping Ben.
He was immaculately behaved, so after we'd got the shoes he came with me while I bought some of the bits and pieces I need for the hospital bag and finally (after 3 children) signed up for the Boots Parenting Club. I treated him to some Rolos which he insisted on bringing home to share with daddy and his brothers.
Yesterday we collected the second cot and a changing table from a friend so we're full steam ahead now to start moving furniture around and getting things set up to make life easier when the twins are here.
Oddly though the first step is reorganising the children's rooms so I'd better get on...
Friday 20 January 2012
If a rose was called a skunk-cabbage would it really smell as sweet?
(To paraphrase L. M. Montgomery's Anne Shirley.)
It seems odd that what is in many ways one of the most insignificant decisions we make for our children is also one of those that will affect them for most of their lives.
Most people have a favourite name or two, and the challenge is choosing a name that both Mummy and Daddy like equally and which doesn't offend or over compliment either side of the family.
Choosing names for our children is such a huge responsibility. I've always subscribed to the theory that a child's name should "work" in both childhood and in adulthood, and should suit whatever path their life takes, Prime Minister or Plumbers' Mate. Solicitor or Street Sweeper.
And like traditional names, and for boys, fairly solid ones. So we have Sam, who is really Samuel - I think it was in the top 20 or so names the year he was born but we'e never really known many, and Sam tends to decide to be Samuel in these situations.
We have Josiah, which is maybe a little fanciful - though I was surprised by how few people had ever heard of the name, I expected that people might say they'd never met a Josiah, but never heard of one? Spode? Wedgewood? Not to mention the biblical boy king, and of course President Bartlett of the "West Wing" series. Anyway he can choose to be simply "Jo" any time he likes, or "Jed" as we'd originally planned. And I've stopped being concerned that he might be considered "odd" as a result of his name in school, that's never going to be an issue in a class that includes "Zeus".
Choosing Ben's name was harder, it needed to "work" with the others and to be honest anything goes with Sam. But with Samuel and Josiah? What worked but didn't make us sound like deep south red-necks? It was tricky, and became trickier when he was born, and had very dark hair, we'd expected a redhead, like Sam, or a dusty blond, like Josiah, and here he was, one very dark haired baby.
Eventually we settled on Ben, who is really Reuben. So we have Samuel, Josiah and Reuben. Or Sam Jed/Jo and Ben. All traditional names, all biblical prophets, all also english revolutionaries.
And then we gave them each two middle names.
Now, in retrospect, this was a mistake. In fact we sat at the registrar's desk waiting to register Ben still debating whether or not we used the second middle name, or saved it in case we ever had another baby boy. And we used it.
So when we knew there was going to be a fourth baby the debate started early, but it was hard right from the start.
Knowing there was also going to be a fifth was liberating in a way, it meant we didn't HAVE to follow the set pattern, we could have a pair of names that worked together that didn't have to work with the others.
It's still hard though, not least because J is still wedded to that name we were debating in the registry office 3 years ago, and would re-use it. While I don't think that's right.
What would you call them?
It seems odd that what is in many ways one of the most insignificant decisions we make for our children is also one of those that will affect them for most of their lives.
Most people have a favourite name or two, and the challenge is choosing a name that both Mummy and Daddy like equally and which doesn't offend or over compliment either side of the family.
Choosing names for our children is such a huge responsibility. I've always subscribed to the theory that a child's name should "work" in both childhood and in adulthood, and should suit whatever path their life takes, Prime Minister or Plumbers' Mate. Solicitor or Street Sweeper.
And like traditional names, and for boys, fairly solid ones. So we have Sam, who is really Samuel - I think it was in the top 20 or so names the year he was born but we'e never really known many, and Sam tends to decide to be Samuel in these situations.
We have Josiah, which is maybe a little fanciful - though I was surprised by how few people had ever heard of the name, I expected that people might say they'd never met a Josiah, but never heard of one? Spode? Wedgewood? Not to mention the biblical boy king, and of course President Bartlett of the "West Wing" series. Anyway he can choose to be simply "Jo" any time he likes, or "Jed" as we'd originally planned. And I've stopped being concerned that he might be considered "odd" as a result of his name in school, that's never going to be an issue in a class that includes "Zeus".
Choosing Ben's name was harder, it needed to "work" with the others and to be honest anything goes with Sam. But with Samuel and Josiah? What worked but didn't make us sound like deep south red-necks? It was tricky, and became trickier when he was born, and had very dark hair, we'd expected a redhead, like Sam, or a dusty blond, like Josiah, and here he was, one very dark haired baby.
Eventually we settled on Ben, who is really Reuben. So we have Samuel, Josiah and Reuben. Or Sam Jed/Jo and Ben. All traditional names, all biblical prophets, all also english revolutionaries.
And then we gave them each two middle names.
Now, in retrospect, this was a mistake. In fact we sat at the registrar's desk waiting to register Ben still debating whether or not we used the second middle name, or saved it in case we ever had another baby boy. And we used it.
So when we knew there was going to be a fourth baby the debate started early, but it was hard right from the start.
Knowing there was also going to be a fifth was liberating in a way, it meant we didn't HAVE to follow the set pattern, we could have a pair of names that worked together that didn't have to work with the others.
It's still hard though, not least because J is still wedded to that name we were debating in the registry office 3 years ago, and would re-use it. While I don't think that's right.
What would you call them?
Thursday 19 January 2012
Can I have a moan? (parts of this might be sensitive)
Actually I feel less like moaning now than I did earlier, probably because I've partly written this in my head already....
I sometimes feel I'm not allowed to complain - like a child told to eat their dinner because there are starving children in Africa (actually I was never very good with that one either, my mum remembers me telling her to "send it to them then, I don't want it"...)
I constantly remind myself that there are a lot of people who have had an incredible, heart rending, painful journey to parenthood.
People who have had months of hoping and praying as they clutched a stick in the bathroom, people who have had the joy of seeing the blue line, only to then see the red spotting and worse.
People who have suffered the indignity of medical tests, and the struggle to afford treatments. Who's relationships have been tested to breaking point by the question of "who is to blame?" or feeling responsible.
People who have had babies knowing that their hours would be few and their time to bless the world short.
People who have had children full of life one day and torn from them by sudden illness the next.
And I have friends, good friends, who fit into all these groups.
So who am I to moan? My path has been an easy one. Three, healthy, growing boys, and twins (God willing) soon to join them.
How can I complain?
But I do.
I'm tired, really tired.
J is working flat out, he's doing long hours at the office and doing all he can to help at home too.
This morning, when the alarm went, I struggled out of bed, chased the boys to eat breakfast, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher, made packed lunches, went upstairs to chase the boys into uniforms and take J some tea, and found him snoring. Words might have been said...
We got the boys to school and I dropped J at the office and ran some errands in town, not much, a quick trip into the M&S food hall for biscuits, a cheque to pay into the bank (bother there's another in my bag I'd forgotten). A wander up to the card shop for a birthday card.
That's where it went wrong. The card shop. They had no cards suitable for a 2 year old girl on display. I asked a staff member who phoned upstairs to get someone to come and help, it took 5 minutes, by now Ben had become bored and escaped.
He was delighted to get the chance to run around the shop, I was not delighted to chase him.
Having caught him I went with the staff member who had stood, dumbly, while I, clearly struggling, had chased Ben round several displays, to the card section where she pointed out several 2 year old cards in blue, with diggers - now I'd have no issue with this, but it does look a bit like you haven't really bothered when you send a little girl a card clearly aimed at little boys. Grudgingly she got on her knees to look in the drawer "Here" she handed me a dogeared, disney Winnie The Pooh card in pink and blue. And then sat back.
I asked if there was anything else - this isn't a corner shop, it's a big branch belonging the the UK card shop beginning with C you'll all have heard of - and quite apart from anything else I actually needed two. She sighed and started to look half-heartedly.
By now I'd had enough, so I handed the card back and told her not to bother, that it really wasn't good enough and left.
Or I would have left, except that a little old man, who, to be fair meant no harm, was insistent that I pass through the aisle ahead of him, and I couldn't. Not with Ben still having a tantrum because he wasn't allowed to run free, the shopping bag, the bump and the man himself in my way. "No, you go first" I said. So he decided to talk to Ben.
And I just wanted to leave. Now normally I'd smile and take 5 minutes but I'm afraid I said something polite but dismissive and went down the next aisle.
I abandoned the rest of the chores and we came home.
Two friends came after lunch for a bit which was lovely, really it was.
And then I had to do the school run. Ben was a nightmare, refusing to get into the car - once I finally got him in he fell asleep in about 3 minutes, he's clearly at that stage in his virus where he's better enough to be naughty despite not having the energy to actually do anything.
When we got to school, there was nowhere to park, including the yellow lines that the traffic warden turns a blind eye to at school run time, and the ones he'll still ticket even then. For some reason it was twice as busy as usual.
I drove round the block 4 times becoming increasingly unreasonable in my tearful rant to myself. No one needed a space more than I did. It was pure selfishness that they couldn't leave even one for me.
As I say even at the time I knew this was unreasonable. I paused, put the phone on speaker and rang J. He came out of the office for 10 minutes to run in and fetch them while I continued to drive round the block.
Tonight I might have told one of the children for the first time ever that if they didn't behave I would send then to live with Grandma 'til I had some more energy to deal with them. I've never done that before.
And yet people who hear that I'm not overdue, that I still have about 10 weeks to go, but it's twins, look wistful and say "I'd have loved twins..." REALLY? Really? You'd have chosen this, over having babies one at a time? Because I have to be honest, I wouldn't.
I sometimes feel I'm not allowed to complain - like a child told to eat their dinner because there are starving children in Africa (actually I was never very good with that one either, my mum remembers me telling her to "send it to them then, I don't want it"...)
I constantly remind myself that there are a lot of people who have had an incredible, heart rending, painful journey to parenthood.
People who have had months of hoping and praying as they clutched a stick in the bathroom, people who have had the joy of seeing the blue line, only to then see the red spotting and worse.
People who have suffered the indignity of medical tests, and the struggle to afford treatments. Who's relationships have been tested to breaking point by the question of "who is to blame?" or feeling responsible.
People who have had babies knowing that their hours would be few and their time to bless the world short.
People who have had children full of life one day and torn from them by sudden illness the next.
And I have friends, good friends, who fit into all these groups.
So who am I to moan? My path has been an easy one. Three, healthy, growing boys, and twins (God willing) soon to join them.
How can I complain?
But I do.
I'm tired, really tired.
J is working flat out, he's doing long hours at the office and doing all he can to help at home too.
This morning, when the alarm went, I struggled out of bed, chased the boys to eat breakfast, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher, made packed lunches, went upstairs to chase the boys into uniforms and take J some tea, and found him snoring. Words might have been said...
We got the boys to school and I dropped J at the office and ran some errands in town, not much, a quick trip into the M&S food hall for biscuits, a cheque to pay into the bank (bother there's another in my bag I'd forgotten). A wander up to the card shop for a birthday card.
That's where it went wrong. The card shop. They had no cards suitable for a 2 year old girl on display. I asked a staff member who phoned upstairs to get someone to come and help, it took 5 minutes, by now Ben had become bored and escaped.
He was delighted to get the chance to run around the shop, I was not delighted to chase him.
Having caught him I went with the staff member who had stood, dumbly, while I, clearly struggling, had chased Ben round several displays, to the card section where she pointed out several 2 year old cards in blue, with diggers - now I'd have no issue with this, but it does look a bit like you haven't really bothered when you send a little girl a card clearly aimed at little boys. Grudgingly she got on her knees to look in the drawer "Here" she handed me a dogeared, disney Winnie The Pooh card in pink and blue. And then sat back.
I asked if there was anything else - this isn't a corner shop, it's a big branch belonging the the UK card shop beginning with C you'll all have heard of - and quite apart from anything else I actually needed two. She sighed and started to look half-heartedly.
By now I'd had enough, so I handed the card back and told her not to bother, that it really wasn't good enough and left.
Or I would have left, except that a little old man, who, to be fair meant no harm, was insistent that I pass through the aisle ahead of him, and I couldn't. Not with Ben still having a tantrum because he wasn't allowed to run free, the shopping bag, the bump and the man himself in my way. "No, you go first" I said. So he decided to talk to Ben.
And I just wanted to leave. Now normally I'd smile and take 5 minutes but I'm afraid I said something polite but dismissive and went down the next aisle.
I abandoned the rest of the chores and we came home.
Two friends came after lunch for a bit which was lovely, really it was.
And then I had to do the school run. Ben was a nightmare, refusing to get into the car - once I finally got him in he fell asleep in about 3 minutes, he's clearly at that stage in his virus where he's better enough to be naughty despite not having the energy to actually do anything.
When we got to school, there was nowhere to park, including the yellow lines that the traffic warden turns a blind eye to at school run time, and the ones he'll still ticket even then. For some reason it was twice as busy as usual.
I drove round the block 4 times becoming increasingly unreasonable in my tearful rant to myself. No one needed a space more than I did. It was pure selfishness that they couldn't leave even one for me.
As I say even at the time I knew this was unreasonable. I paused, put the phone on speaker and rang J. He came out of the office for 10 minutes to run in and fetch them while I continued to drive round the block.
Tonight I might have told one of the children for the first time ever that if they didn't behave I would send then to live with Grandma 'til I had some more energy to deal with them. I've never done that before.
And yet people who hear that I'm not overdue, that I still have about 10 weeks to go, but it's twins, look wistful and say "I'd have loved twins..." REALLY? Really? You'd have chosen this, over having babies one at a time? Because I have to be honest, I wouldn't.
Wednesday 18 January 2012
56 weeks pregnant...
One of the hard things about second and subsequent pregnancies is what you do with your walking, talking, existing children while you attend appointments and so on.
And of course, if you're having twins there are more appointments.
Sam and Josiah were in school today when I went for my 28 week growth scan, and there was nothing for it but to take Ben along. Well, that's not absolutely true, J slipped out of work for the scan and could have looked after Ben while I went alone to the appointment.
I know that it's not ideal, I know that it's not a picture show, it's a diagnostic test. But that's exactly why J wanted to be there and why I wanted him with me.
If Ben had been any kind of trouble at all though, J would have taken him out. Mostly an iPhone, a DSi, or a mobigo will keep him quiet. How did mothers cope without them? Seriously they have (with limited use to avoid overfamiliarity) revolutionised our lives!
Anyway his cold virus was in our favour and he slept through the appointment...
So, today was the 28 week growth scan. The new sonographer was lovely and very reassuring.
The babies had both flipped from the other day, to be frank I knew this, my tummy was like a washing machine this morning and their big movement was painful. Actually I'm pretty sure they've flipped again tonight, ow!
This afternoon though, twin one was low in the uterus and in the breech position, while twin two was in an oblique lie around the top right side of my tum (and kicking his brother in the head - heaven help us, they've started already!)
Growth wise they're doing fine. More than fine, in fact they're both pretty much on the 50th centile for 28 week singletons. And averaged out their weights are about 2.5 lbs and just under 3 lbs, good weights if anything were to happen and I went into labour.
So, with two 28 weekers on board, and an extra placenta, and the additional fluids I reckon I'm at least 56 weeks pregnant, no wonder I look like a beached whale, struggle to breathe going up the second set of stairs and have to be hauled out of chairs.
If anyone can tell me how to upload pictures to a blogger blog I'll add some tomorrow.
And of course, if you're having twins there are more appointments.
Sam and Josiah were in school today when I went for my 28 week growth scan, and there was nothing for it but to take Ben along. Well, that's not absolutely true, J slipped out of work for the scan and could have looked after Ben while I went alone to the appointment.
I know that it's not ideal, I know that it's not a picture show, it's a diagnostic test. But that's exactly why J wanted to be there and why I wanted him with me.
If Ben had been any kind of trouble at all though, J would have taken him out. Mostly an iPhone, a DSi, or a mobigo will keep him quiet. How did mothers cope without them? Seriously they have (with limited use to avoid overfamiliarity) revolutionised our lives!
Anyway his cold virus was in our favour and he slept through the appointment...
So, today was the 28 week growth scan. The new sonographer was lovely and very reassuring.
The babies had both flipped from the other day, to be frank I knew this, my tummy was like a washing machine this morning and their big movement was painful. Actually I'm pretty sure they've flipped again tonight, ow!
This afternoon though, twin one was low in the uterus and in the breech position, while twin two was in an oblique lie around the top right side of my tum (and kicking his brother in the head - heaven help us, they've started already!)
Growth wise they're doing fine. More than fine, in fact they're both pretty much on the 50th centile for 28 week singletons. And averaged out their weights are about 2.5 lbs and just under 3 lbs, good weights if anything were to happen and I went into labour.
So, with two 28 weekers on board, and an extra placenta, and the additional fluids I reckon I'm at least 56 weeks pregnant, no wonder I look like a beached whale, struggle to breathe going up the second set of stairs and have to be hauled out of chairs.
If anyone can tell me how to upload pictures to a blogger blog I'll add some tomorrow.
Tuesday 17 January 2012
Reassurance
Yesterday I had my 28 week growth scan.
Only I didn't, because I got to the centre to find that inexplicably they had it on the computer for today.
I was a bit cross and concerned because I'd arranged childcare to fit around the appointment, J is in Jersey today etc.
The receptionist checked her screen again, "No definitely the 17th. And then you've another appointment on the 26th."
"No I said, it's the 27th..."
"Oh," she said "No, that shows on the screen as changed to the 26th".
Now at this point I got a bit worked up - darned hormones - and upset. The receptionist spoke to one of the OB/ Gyn's PAs - not my consultant's PA as she wasn't there, but the one who usually deals with twins. She came down and took us aside to an "interview room" to sort it out.
Having checked what was booked so far, and changed the growth scan to Wednesday and a time I could do, rather than the appointment they had showing on the screen which I definitely couldn't manage, she then checked the appointment history.
And noticed I'd never had the 24 week scan I should have had. And that there was no arrangement made for the 32 and 36 week scans.
She promised to deal with it and then said that in the meantime, if we liked she'd see if the consultant could see us there and then, to do a quick scan for reassurance.
This she did and so we had another look at those two tiny babies yesterday. And, yesterday at least, they both had their heads together, and down! This could be all systems go for a vaginal birth, and the more points are in my favour - like both being cephalic - the better the chance of a natural, low interventionist birth surely? More iron, more beef, more green leafy vegetables. I'll be so miffed if the only thing that stops me is bloody anaemia!
This morning the actual consultant's PA called, apologised - I had indeed fallen through the net, either the consultant had never instructed that I would need the extra scans or else the instruction had never reached her. Now given that I phoned them to check at about 22 weeks and the midwife did the same at about 26 weeks, that's not entirely acceptable. But hey, she booked the appointments going forward there and then. So hopefully we have it, finally, sorted now.
And I get to see the babies again tomorrow. The scan will be done by the newest member of staff who is based in Birmingham but will be working on the island for 2 days each fortnight. All the scans from here on in will be done by her.
I'm reassured by this too, if she works normally in the NHs then what is "normal" to her will be NICE guidelines, and that's great because I still can't find any kind of island based guidelines.
Only I didn't, because I got to the centre to find that inexplicably they had it on the computer for today.
I was a bit cross and concerned because I'd arranged childcare to fit around the appointment, J is in Jersey today etc.
The receptionist checked her screen again, "No definitely the 17th. And then you've another appointment on the 26th."
"No I said, it's the 27th..."
"Oh," she said "No, that shows on the screen as changed to the 26th".
Now at this point I got a bit worked up - darned hormones - and upset. The receptionist spoke to one of the OB/ Gyn's PAs - not my consultant's PA as she wasn't there, but the one who usually deals with twins. She came down and took us aside to an "interview room" to sort it out.
Having checked what was booked so far, and changed the growth scan to Wednesday and a time I could do, rather than the appointment they had showing on the screen which I definitely couldn't manage, she then checked the appointment history.
And noticed I'd never had the 24 week scan I should have had. And that there was no arrangement made for the 32 and 36 week scans.
She promised to deal with it and then said that in the meantime, if we liked she'd see if the consultant could see us there and then, to do a quick scan for reassurance.
This she did and so we had another look at those two tiny babies yesterday. And, yesterday at least, they both had their heads together, and down! This could be all systems go for a vaginal birth, and the more points are in my favour - like both being cephalic - the better the chance of a natural, low interventionist birth surely? More iron, more beef, more green leafy vegetables. I'll be so miffed if the only thing that stops me is bloody anaemia!
This morning the actual consultant's PA called, apologised - I had indeed fallen through the net, either the consultant had never instructed that I would need the extra scans or else the instruction had never reached her. Now given that I phoned them to check at about 22 weeks and the midwife did the same at about 26 weeks, that's not entirely acceptable. But hey, she booked the appointments going forward there and then. So hopefully we have it, finally, sorted now.
And I get to see the babies again tomorrow. The scan will be done by the newest member of staff who is based in Birmingham but will be working on the island for 2 days each fortnight. All the scans from here on in will be done by her.
I'm reassured by this too, if she works normally in the NHs then what is "normal" to her will be NICE guidelines, and that's great because I still can't find any kind of island based guidelines.
Monday 16 January 2012
You can tell who are the first time mums....
Poorly children, house stuff to do and we didn't really go out much.
Sam was full of cold and not really up to the early and very cold, start required for football so he missed it for the first time and all 4 boys snuggled up on the sofa to watch a film while I went out to my relaxation class.
Ideally J would have come too as this was the labour breathing class but childcare didn't allow and I was fairly confident I couldn't be the only one there without a "birth partner", sure enough there were 3 of us "flying solo", they run the course every 4 weeks so next time they do this session I'll be 32 weeks and we'll have a better idea of whether I'll actually labour or not and can gatecrash that class. In the meantime I took mental notes and talked him through it at home.
The teacher makes a bit of a deal about me being the "expert" as I have done this 3 times - there are second and third time mums in the group - and to be honest some of the first timers do look at me as if a little in awe - well either that or they're waiting for the men in white coats to take me away.
Fact is though that I'm not an expert, I have some experience of how my labours go, but none at all of other people's and in fact all 3 of my own have had differences, so even there it's not "expertise".
I watched One Born Every Minute this week too. 2 first time mums and a 2nd timer. Now obviously it's edited, so who can really say how these women's labours actually were, as opposed to what we saw*.
There's a couple of things it made me think. First about the "expert" thing. One of the midwives described labour as "the worst pain you'll ever experience". Now I'd disagree. Kidney stones (while pregnant and denied good drugs LOL) were worse. Smashing my wrist was bad but not comparable because it was a different type of pain, you can't really compare one with another in my opinion, And you certainly can't say that something is the worst pain you'll know, maybe for her it was, but that's not to say it's always the same for everyone. The same midwife also said that in her opinion someone who has a bad first birth will have a bad second birth because of the traumatic memory and the panic etc. Again I'd disagree.
I'm not sure why my subsequent births were better but they were.
Secondly it made me think about panic and it's effects on pain.
The first, first time mum was so calm, so focussed, quiet and concentrated and had the kind of water birth we all aspire to I'm sure.
The second delivered on a bed but again was calm and focussed, if a little noisier, and delivered a rather large baby in what seemed to have been a very "good birth".
The second time mum however had a rougher time, in loud pain, slow tense labour and so on. But once the epidural was being sited, (note, not once it had begun to do it's work, but as soon as they were siting it) she calmed and relaxed. This made me think about my own first labour, where I too had an epidural because I was tired and in terrible pain and so on, but I too managed to stay still and quiet for the siting of the needle/ tube, long before it started to actually do it's job.
How much of the pain, in both our cases, was actually caused by panic? Once we knew we were GOING to have the pain removed it started to get better.
So that's got to be something to be considered - my epidural labour experiences were bad, but how much of that was panic? If I'm not panicked will the whole labour be different?
So the first timers were calm and relaxed and the second timer was panicky and tense?
Not what we'd expect and perhaps calling into question my opening statement, that you can tell who are the first time mums?
You can you know, but not by the above. It's that the first time mums arrive at classes with tidy handbags, and perfectly applied make up, gorgeous hair and husbands who open doors and carry pillows for them.....
* this is in no way meant to doubt the veracity of the series as a whole I'm sure it shows a valid picture of child birth in a busy hospital, but that's not to say that we get a clear picture of each and every individual labour.
Sam was full of cold and not really up to the early and very cold, start required for football so he missed it for the first time and all 4 boys snuggled up on the sofa to watch a film while I went out to my relaxation class.
Ideally J would have come too as this was the labour breathing class but childcare didn't allow and I was fairly confident I couldn't be the only one there without a "birth partner", sure enough there were 3 of us "flying solo", they run the course every 4 weeks so next time they do this session I'll be 32 weeks and we'll have a better idea of whether I'll actually labour or not and can gatecrash that class. In the meantime I took mental notes and talked him through it at home.
The teacher makes a bit of a deal about me being the "expert" as I have done this 3 times - there are second and third time mums in the group - and to be honest some of the first timers do look at me as if a little in awe - well either that or they're waiting for the men in white coats to take me away.
Fact is though that I'm not an expert, I have some experience of how my labours go, but none at all of other people's and in fact all 3 of my own have had differences, so even there it's not "expertise".
I watched One Born Every Minute this week too. 2 first time mums and a 2nd timer. Now obviously it's edited, so who can really say how these women's labours actually were, as opposed to what we saw*.
There's a couple of things it made me think. First about the "expert" thing. One of the midwives described labour as "the worst pain you'll ever experience". Now I'd disagree. Kidney stones (while pregnant and denied good drugs LOL) were worse. Smashing my wrist was bad but not comparable because it was a different type of pain, you can't really compare one with another in my opinion, And you certainly can't say that something is the worst pain you'll know, maybe for her it was, but that's not to say it's always the same for everyone. The same midwife also said that in her opinion someone who has a bad first birth will have a bad second birth because of the traumatic memory and the panic etc. Again I'd disagree.
I'm not sure why my subsequent births were better but they were.
Secondly it made me think about panic and it's effects on pain.
The first, first time mum was so calm, so focussed, quiet and concentrated and had the kind of water birth we all aspire to I'm sure.
The second delivered on a bed but again was calm and focussed, if a little noisier, and delivered a rather large baby in what seemed to have been a very "good birth".
The second time mum however had a rougher time, in loud pain, slow tense labour and so on. But once the epidural was being sited, (note, not once it had begun to do it's work, but as soon as they were siting it) she calmed and relaxed. This made me think about my own first labour, where I too had an epidural because I was tired and in terrible pain and so on, but I too managed to stay still and quiet for the siting of the needle/ tube, long before it started to actually do it's job.
How much of the pain, in both our cases, was actually caused by panic? Once we knew we were GOING to have the pain removed it started to get better.
So that's got to be something to be considered - my epidural labour experiences were bad, but how much of that was panic? If I'm not panicked will the whole labour be different?
So the first timers were calm and relaxed and the second timer was panicky and tense?
Not what we'd expect and perhaps calling into question my opening statement, that you can tell who are the first time mums?
You can you know, but not by the above. It's that the first time mums arrive at classes with tidy handbags, and perfectly applied make up, gorgeous hair and husbands who open doors and carry pillows for them.....
* this is in no way meant to doubt the veracity of the series as a whole I'm sure it shows a valid picture of child birth in a busy hospital, but that's not to say that we get a clear picture of each and every individual labour.
Friday 13 January 2012
Never worth getting your knickers in a twist before the eggs are in the basket..
Or something like that!
I had a midwife appointment today, an early one as it was largely for a Glucose Tolerance Test and they kindly try to make those early in the day as you have to fast from the night before.
I dropped J and the two older boys at the school gate so he could walk them in - the school is on a tricky bit of single carriageway, one way street and usually he drops me with Sam and 'Siah and I take them in and make it out in time to meet him once he's gone round the block, we then drop him at work and Ben and I go to the park, or swimming, or shopping, or whatever.
Today though Ben and I dropped them off at school early meaning he would have to walk the last bit to the office. The boys were quite excited about showing daddy the ropes.
We drove to my friend's house - she's a childminder and had offered to have Ben for the morning - and dropped him off - while getting his coat out of the boot I let the punctured wheel fall out and had to lug it back in, too heavy but genuinely no choice in this case.
I'd forgotten my notes so had to call at home on the way to the hospital - gave me chance to wash my hands, and time the route from house to labour ward in rush hour! 8 minutes - so I was 15 minutes late at the hospital.
I had the blood tests, three (iron, antibodies and glucose) drank the sickly stuff and then the midwife did the dip test, palpated my tummy and listened to the heartbeats. Twin one was helpful and obliging, twin 2 was not, the midwife kept finding the heartbeat, listening for about 2 seconds and then the baby would kick the sonicaid and move out of the way! So it took a while.
And she thinks that, at the moment at least, they are both breech, still plenty of time for them to move I guess!
She asked what I has hoping for the birth, I was very calm - all that weeping and wailing of the last few days obviously got it out of my system! - and said that I was trying to keep an open mind because I knew so much depended on positioning, but that I was hoping to avoid a section and that I really didn't want a highly medicalised birth either, that in an ideal world I would labour in water getting out to be monitored at intervals.
And she didn't say no.
Now she didn't say anything particularly positive either, but something about waiting to see and keeping an open mind. But I feel quite positive about it.
I then sat and read a book for 2 hours until they did the next test. It was really pretty peaceful and I'll admit I enjoyed the rest!
They made me tea and toast before I left and I collected Ben, came home and we had lunch and then a lazy afternoon.
The midwife rang around 4pm, my GTT was fine - I was pretty sure it would be - but I am "properly anaemic" and need to raise my iron and get the consultant to check it again in 2 weeks.
Sigh, another battle, anaemia is another risk factor in waterbirth etc and will be one more nail in my coffin when I'm arguing the case for a natural birth.
So, bring on the steak, and the green leafy veg, and the spatone and the iron. At least this is a battle I KNOW I can win. I've done it before, I'll do it again!
I had a midwife appointment today, an early one as it was largely for a Glucose Tolerance Test and they kindly try to make those early in the day as you have to fast from the night before.
I dropped J and the two older boys at the school gate so he could walk them in - the school is on a tricky bit of single carriageway, one way street and usually he drops me with Sam and 'Siah and I take them in and make it out in time to meet him once he's gone round the block, we then drop him at work and Ben and I go to the park, or swimming, or shopping, or whatever.
Today though Ben and I dropped them off at school early meaning he would have to walk the last bit to the office. The boys were quite excited about showing daddy the ropes.
We drove to my friend's house - she's a childminder and had offered to have Ben for the morning - and dropped him off - while getting his coat out of the boot I let the punctured wheel fall out and had to lug it back in, too heavy but genuinely no choice in this case.
I'd forgotten my notes so had to call at home on the way to the hospital - gave me chance to wash my hands, and time the route from house to labour ward in rush hour! 8 minutes - so I was 15 minutes late at the hospital.
I had the blood tests, three (iron, antibodies and glucose) drank the sickly stuff and then the midwife did the dip test, palpated my tummy and listened to the heartbeats. Twin one was helpful and obliging, twin 2 was not, the midwife kept finding the heartbeat, listening for about 2 seconds and then the baby would kick the sonicaid and move out of the way! So it took a while.
And she thinks that, at the moment at least, they are both breech, still plenty of time for them to move I guess!
She asked what I has hoping for the birth, I was very calm - all that weeping and wailing of the last few days obviously got it out of my system! - and said that I was trying to keep an open mind because I knew so much depended on positioning, but that I was hoping to avoid a section and that I really didn't want a highly medicalised birth either, that in an ideal world I would labour in water getting out to be monitored at intervals.
And she didn't say no.
Now she didn't say anything particularly positive either, but something about waiting to see and keeping an open mind. But I feel quite positive about it.
I then sat and read a book for 2 hours until they did the next test. It was really pretty peaceful and I'll admit I enjoyed the rest!
They made me tea and toast before I left and I collected Ben, came home and we had lunch and then a lazy afternoon.
The midwife rang around 4pm, my GTT was fine - I was pretty sure it would be - but I am "properly anaemic" and need to raise my iron and get the consultant to check it again in 2 weeks.
Sigh, another battle, anaemia is another risk factor in waterbirth etc and will be one more nail in my coffin when I'm arguing the case for a natural birth.
So, bring on the steak, and the green leafy veg, and the spatone and the iron. At least this is a battle I KNOW I can win. I've done it before, I'll do it again!
Thursday 12 January 2012
One of those days....
It started badly.
Children on a go slow, J on a go slower, me not 100% and alternately nagging, chivvying and shouting like a banshee.
Got into car and headed for school.
Tyre blew out sending car skidding off track and into a wall.
We're all fine, car is a mess but I guess a £150 insurance excess is the same for a bad scratch or for 2 new panels, a door handle, bumper touch up and refix and a mangled alloy wheel.
Oh and I'll have to pay for a new tyre as that bit is wear and tear which isn't covered apparently.
If I'd lied and said that the wall did that too it might have been covered. Oh well honesty is the best policy and all that.
So I waited for the AA while J walked the boys to school - late of course. And then I phoned the insurance company.
And then I took Ben to the dentist - the only part of my plan for the day that came off, crossing off an appointment that would otherwise have been done with two newborns in tow - and he did really well. Our dentists are fab, their children's specialists and there is no sense of it being a potentially scary experience at all.
Which, as some of you may know, is no mean feat when it comes to Ben. At 3 he's had dreadful trouble with his teeth. He had to have 4 removed under general anaesthetic in August - decay caused by some combination of probable coeliac status (like me, and my mum, and cousin), chicken pox while the enamel on his teeth ought to have been developing and the fact that he was breastfed at night (though the evidence suggests this is the least likely cause). We agonised over the decision, but it was the right thing to do and his health and eating improved beyond measure almost immediately.
Anyway he's doing just fine, no further decay and we'll keep having the fluoride stuff painted on his teeth every 4-6 months.
Fron the dentist we went to the Bodyshop to have the car damage assessed. Which was fine in itself, the guys at the garage were charming and helpful and obliging. Leaving however was another story.
Guernsey roads are narrow and winding, when they need to work on, or under, them, they close them. The road the bodyshop is on was closed at one end and while it's so narrow it's usually one way it was therefore 2 way from the other end. It was impossible to turn my car the right way out of the lane, it was almost impossible to turn the wrong way. The men digging up the road directed me to go the wrong way up to the closed end and then turn round - now I'd had to do this on the way in, and it wasn't easy and involved turning in a wet, muddy, uneven field. The men insisted on giving me, contradictory: "Right hand down, full lock now, now the other way" type directions and frankly after the day I'd had and in all honesty with my movement severely restricted by the lack of proper gap between bump and steering wheel I simply couldn't do it. And I sat in the car in the middle of the road and sobbed.
At that point an unlikely knight in shining armour appeared in the shape of one of the guys from the bodyshop who had realised I'd have trouble and jogged up to help. He offered to get the car out of the tough bit and did it for me. I could have kissed him.
So I didn't get my bedroom sorted and ready for building the cot at the weekend. I did check the carseat on the buggy though and there's definitely room for both babies that way.
GTT tomorrow, that has to be a better day? Please?
Children on a go slow, J on a go slower, me not 100% and alternately nagging, chivvying and shouting like a banshee.
Got into car and headed for school.
Tyre blew out sending car skidding off track and into a wall.
We're all fine, car is a mess but I guess a £150 insurance excess is the same for a bad scratch or for 2 new panels, a door handle, bumper touch up and refix and a mangled alloy wheel.
Oh and I'll have to pay for a new tyre as that bit is wear and tear which isn't covered apparently.
If I'd lied and said that the wall did that too it might have been covered. Oh well honesty is the best policy and all that.
So I waited for the AA while J walked the boys to school - late of course. And then I phoned the insurance company.
And then I took Ben to the dentist - the only part of my plan for the day that came off, crossing off an appointment that would otherwise have been done with two newborns in tow - and he did really well. Our dentists are fab, their children's specialists and there is no sense of it being a potentially scary experience at all.
Which, as some of you may know, is no mean feat when it comes to Ben. At 3 he's had dreadful trouble with his teeth. He had to have 4 removed under general anaesthetic in August - decay caused by some combination of probable coeliac status (like me, and my mum, and cousin), chicken pox while the enamel on his teeth ought to have been developing and the fact that he was breastfed at night (though the evidence suggests this is the least likely cause). We agonised over the decision, but it was the right thing to do and his health and eating improved beyond measure almost immediately.
Anyway he's doing just fine, no further decay and we'll keep having the fluoride stuff painted on his teeth every 4-6 months.
Fron the dentist we went to the Bodyshop to have the car damage assessed. Which was fine in itself, the guys at the garage were charming and helpful and obliging. Leaving however was another story.
Guernsey roads are narrow and winding, when they need to work on, or under, them, they close them. The road the bodyshop is on was closed at one end and while it's so narrow it's usually one way it was therefore 2 way from the other end. It was impossible to turn my car the right way out of the lane, it was almost impossible to turn the wrong way. The men digging up the road directed me to go the wrong way up to the closed end and then turn round - now I'd had to do this on the way in, and it wasn't easy and involved turning in a wet, muddy, uneven field. The men insisted on giving me, contradictory: "Right hand down, full lock now, now the other way" type directions and frankly after the day I'd had and in all honesty with my movement severely restricted by the lack of proper gap between bump and steering wheel I simply couldn't do it. And I sat in the car in the middle of the road and sobbed.
At that point an unlikely knight in shining armour appeared in the shape of one of the guys from the bodyshop who had realised I'd have trouble and jogged up to help. He offered to get the car out of the tough bit and did it for me. I could have kissed him.
So I didn't get my bedroom sorted and ready for building the cot at the weekend. I did check the carseat on the buggy though and there's definitely room for both babies that way.
GTT tomorrow, that has to be a better day? Please?
Wednesday 11 January 2012
Baby snuggles and "fighting your corner"
A friend came over today with her 9 week old little girl and we had some lovely cuddles.
We also had a long chat about what medics advise and what you can do about changing their minds or getting them to see your point of view at least.
My friend, we'll call her B, had had 2 previous c-sections, one an emergency following an early labour and the other a planned "elective" section - I've put "elective" in quote marks because it always looks like you have made a choice, when the truth is that there's often no choosing about it at all. It can be a bit like saying that the man in the burning building chose to jump out of the window!
In B's case her second section happened because the hospital weren't keen on VBAC (for clarity I should say that this was 6 yrs ago and in the North East of England) and she, fairly inexperienced, young and a long way from home, didn't realise she actually had a choice. Her second was also therefore born before 40 weeks as part of the plan.
6 years later though, when she found she was pregnant with her third child, she was determined that things could be different.
She did her research, hired a supportive doula who knew the local hospital well and she dug her heels in a bit. And the Consultant (who is also my consultant) agreed, after a lot of discussion, that she could have a trial of labour.
In the event, B went into labour at 41 weeks, and though she had her trial of labour and got right to the pushing stage, she ended up delivering T via the "sunroof". And during the section her uterus ruptured, in several places, it was apparently paper thin and perforating at the consultant's touch.
Thankfully, B feels she laid her issues to rest she was given a chance to labour and deliver naturally, gave it her all and though, ultimately, it wasn't possible, she is at peace with that.
The consultant feels that she should on no account consider having further children, and it's this B is struggling with - I can understand that, it's one thing to decide your family is complete and quite another to be told that it is.
I know of plenty of marriages that have foundered because the couple couldn't agree on where their family was "done". To have an outsider tell you that must be incredibly hard to deal with.
All this has made me think about medical advice and how far we should be asking doctors and nurses to go against their instincts and protocols. That's not to say I think B was wrong, I know other women who have had successful VBA2C and been much better for avoiding a third lot of abdominal surgery. But where do we draw the line?
More importantly where do I draw the line?
I haven't actually reached any conclusions yet....
We also had a long chat about what medics advise and what you can do about changing their minds or getting them to see your point of view at least.
My friend, we'll call her B, had had 2 previous c-sections, one an emergency following an early labour and the other a planned "elective" section - I've put "elective" in quote marks because it always looks like you have made a choice, when the truth is that there's often no choosing about it at all. It can be a bit like saying that the man in the burning building chose to jump out of the window!
In B's case her second section happened because the hospital weren't keen on VBAC (for clarity I should say that this was 6 yrs ago and in the North East of England) and she, fairly inexperienced, young and a long way from home, didn't realise she actually had a choice. Her second was also therefore born before 40 weeks as part of the plan.
6 years later though, when she found she was pregnant with her third child, she was determined that things could be different.
She did her research, hired a supportive doula who knew the local hospital well and she dug her heels in a bit. And the Consultant (who is also my consultant) agreed, after a lot of discussion, that she could have a trial of labour.
In the event, B went into labour at 41 weeks, and though she had her trial of labour and got right to the pushing stage, she ended up delivering T via the "sunroof". And during the section her uterus ruptured, in several places, it was apparently paper thin and perforating at the consultant's touch.
Thankfully, B feels she laid her issues to rest she was given a chance to labour and deliver naturally, gave it her all and though, ultimately, it wasn't possible, she is at peace with that.
The consultant feels that she should on no account consider having further children, and it's this B is struggling with - I can understand that, it's one thing to decide your family is complete and quite another to be told that it is.
I know of plenty of marriages that have foundered because the couple couldn't agree on where their family was "done". To have an outsider tell you that must be incredibly hard to deal with.
All this has made me think about medical advice and how far we should be asking doctors and nurses to go against their instincts and protocols. That's not to say I think B was wrong, I know other women who have had successful VBA2C and been much better for avoiding a third lot of abdominal surgery. But where do we draw the line?
More importantly where do I draw the line?
I haven't actually reached any conclusions yet....
Tuesday 10 January 2012
Positive thinking
I'm depressing myself and everyone around me.
This is not good.
I need to stop brooding on things that are thus far out of my control and instead work on the things I can do something about.
So, I've joined tamba - I can't post on the forums yet to ask questions but that might be because it says it takes 48 hours for the registration/ membership process to complete.
I've found some good stuff, admittedly anecdotal, that suggests that if I was with Doctors and midwives who were willing to "be brave" and try then I might be able to do things my way.
I have reminded myself that because I was logical and stood firm and made it clear I wasn't trying to be a mad hippy, I have persuaded maternity services to go against their normal protocols before and I might yet manage it again.
I've spoken, on the phone and on line to a lot of good friends who have offered to come over in shifts and help.
J and I have chatted about asking Mum to come over earlyish and stay til after the babies are born.
And I have written a housework to do list, so I'd better get on with it....
This is not good.
I need to stop brooding on things that are thus far out of my control and instead work on the things I can do something about.
So, I've joined tamba - I can't post on the forums yet to ask questions but that might be because it says it takes 48 hours for the registration/ membership process to complete.
I've found some good stuff, admittedly anecdotal, that suggests that if I was with Doctors and midwives who were willing to "be brave" and try then I might be able to do things my way.
I have reminded myself that because I was logical and stood firm and made it clear I wasn't trying to be a mad hippy, I have persuaded maternity services to go against their normal protocols before and I might yet manage it again.
I've spoken, on the phone and on line to a lot of good friends who have offered to come over in shifts and help.
J and I have chatted about asking Mum to come over earlyish and stay til after the babies are born.
And I have written a housework to do list, so I'd better get on with it....
Monday 9 January 2012
What a day....
That's such a "meh"title for what has been a real come down few hours.
We went to the antenatal refresher course and hospital tour.
Hospital looks lovely, not a homely as the MLU I spent the first days with the boys in in Stroud, but much nicer than the Orchard Wing at Gloucester Royal infirmary where they were actually born.
We were shown an array of labour and delivery rooms, including one with a fixed pool and one which had the kind of inflatable pool you can hire for use at home. I asked what were my chances of being able to labour in water - nil. It wasn't unexpected, but I cried a bit.
It's not the lack of water birth per se, or even that even labouring in water sounds like it's also out, disappointing though that is (actually that's understating it to be honest).
It's that I'm not even allowed to aspire to the kind of birth I want and know would be better for me.
No, for me it's the epidural - which every one else is being told will slow labour, and the catheter that goes with it, and the constant monitoring that means you can't be mobile - which everyone else is being told will slow labour. And the no water to labour in - which everyone else is being told is one of the best ways to aid labour and provide pain relief. And the syntocinon whether I need it or not, and artificial rupture of membranes for at least twin 2, which leads to an increased chance of instrumental delivery.
Kind of makes you wonder why you shouldn't just book the man with the knife right now.
And then we came home and I phoned my dad to say happy birthday and to suggest that he and mum might like to come over at half term and help when I have the boys at home all day on my own before the babies are born - but for all they "want to help" it turns out they actually mean once the babies are here, they don't think they can manage to come twice and clearly when they want to come is more important than when I need them to come.
And J phoned his dad who also won't commit to when he's coming...
And I only thought he was coming because he said he would.
So all in all, feeling pretty low.
We went to the antenatal refresher course and hospital tour.
Hospital looks lovely, not a homely as the MLU I spent the first days with the boys in in Stroud, but much nicer than the Orchard Wing at Gloucester Royal infirmary where they were actually born.
We were shown an array of labour and delivery rooms, including one with a fixed pool and one which had the kind of inflatable pool you can hire for use at home. I asked what were my chances of being able to labour in water - nil. It wasn't unexpected, but I cried a bit.
It's not the lack of water birth per se, or even that even labouring in water sounds like it's also out, disappointing though that is (actually that's understating it to be honest).
It's that I'm not even allowed to aspire to the kind of birth I want and know would be better for me.
No, for me it's the epidural - which every one else is being told will slow labour, and the catheter that goes with it, and the constant monitoring that means you can't be mobile - which everyone else is being told will slow labour. And the no water to labour in - which everyone else is being told is one of the best ways to aid labour and provide pain relief. And the syntocinon whether I need it or not, and artificial rupture of membranes for at least twin 2, which leads to an increased chance of instrumental delivery.
Kind of makes you wonder why you shouldn't just book the man with the knife right now.
And then we came home and I phoned my dad to say happy birthday and to suggest that he and mum might like to come over at half term and help when I have the boys at home all day on my own before the babies are born - but for all they "want to help" it turns out they actually mean once the babies are here, they don't think they can manage to come twice and clearly when they want to come is more important than when I need them to come.
And J phoned his dad who also won't commit to when he's coming...
And I only thought he was coming because he said he would.
So all in all, feeling pretty low.
And then J got stressed....
While all this was going on J started to think about what was for the best and being J he's looking at it from a statistical point of view.
There are three possibilities in terms of baby positioning,
There are three possibilities in terms of baby positioning,
- they're both head down,
- the first is head down and the second is breech, or
- the first is breech and the second doesn't matter.
In the UK, in the case of dichorionic twins, most Consultants would suggest a vaginal birth for the first, slightly over half would also suggest it for the second and almost all would recommend a caesarian for the third.
BUT 60% of twins are born by section, obviously some of those are monochorionic. But what of the rest?
And what proportion are born to women for whom this is a first birth? Does having delivered babies before make a difference?
Perhaps more importantly for me, how experienced is your hospital/ team in delivering twins vaginally?
The only information we could find on line about the number of twins born on the island was a local news article stating that 2008 was a bumper year for twins with 10 sets delivered. So if 40% of those were vaginal births, just as an example, that suggests that in a busy year the team here deal with 4 vaginal births of twins. How often does someone have to do something before it's a safe, practiced, procedure?
Would I be better off just booking a section?
We need some answers about what is normal for here I think....
In the meantime I had a letter about antenatal classes. So I started a relaxation class on Saturday morning, and J and I are going to a refresher parentcraft class tonight, with a tour of the hospital (Yes, tonight! I've caught up with myself and the blog!).
And I've had the appointment through for my 28 week scan which will be a week today at 28+1, (or 3 depending on how you count it!) pretty sure it's with a locum though so not sure how many answers it will provide other than the obvious baby ones!
NICE Guidelines
There are relatively new guidelines for the "treatment" of women who are pregnant with twins so I thought I'd have a read, even though we're outside the UK and the remit of the NHs and therefore adherence to NICE is more "good practice" than a requirement from what I can make our.
These are the bits I thought might prove useful in sorting out what I should be receiving in terms of care...
We had quite a chat and she promised to speak to the consultant's PA and come back to me next day.
Two days later she called back, most apologetic for the delay, she hadn't had the answers from the PA and had therefore called my consultant herself.
I would be hearing about an appointment for a 28 week scan in the next couple of days!
Well worth calling then!
These are the bits I thought might prove useful in sorting out what I should be receiving in terms of care...
- Multidisciplinary tean of named specialist Obstetricians, Midwives and sonographers with experience of managing twin pregnancies.
- Screening for intrauterine growth restriction from 20 weeks - do not undertake scans at more than 28 days apart*
- Offer elective birth - c-section or induction at 37 weeks
- Full blood count at 20-24 weeks, repeated at 28 weeks.
- Be aware of higher incidence of anaemia
- Dichorionic twins, scans at 20, 24, 28, 32 and 36 weeks
- Consider prescribing aspirin form 12 weeks
* I'm assuming this means they should be done at least every 28 days...
With all that in mind I rang and left a message for the community midwives to try to establish just what my appointment schedule out to be from their point of view...
When the midwife rang back she read through some of their protocol while on the phone and yes, I should have had a scan 2 weeks ago, and another at 28 weeks, and then 32 and 36. Not the 30 week one I've had an appt through for.
She's got my file and called back.We had quite a chat and she promised to speak to the consultant's PA and come back to me next day.
Two days later she called back, most apologetic for the delay, she hadn't had the answers from the PA and had therefore called my consultant herself.
I would be hearing about an appointment for a 28 week scan in the next couple of days!
Well worth calling then!
Sunday 8 January 2012
Just a quick note...
Just realised it looks like I wrote this entire blog in January, I didn't, well I did, but actually I've transferred it all from my diary, no point starting a story in the middle after all!
Resolutions...
1. Once these babies are born I will get fit and get slim again, I wasn't always a size 16, there is every reason to believe I can be a 12 again - I'm not deluded enough to think I'll make it back to my size 8 heyday - and I will.
2. I will be more organised with the house, housework, finances, laundry and everything else.
3. I will meal plan and batch cook.
4. I will work out what I need to get and do before the babies are born and will get on with it.
5. I will be cheerful and not moan - you must be sick of me.
6. I will start again at my photos through a year project and complete a record of our year.
2. I will be more organised with the house, housework, finances, laundry and everything else.
3. I will meal plan and batch cook.
4. I will work out what I need to get and do before the babies are born and will get on with it.
5. I will be cheerful and not moan - you must be sick of me.
6. I will start again at my photos through a year project and complete a record of our year.
A quiet Christmas...
We'd never had a Christmas before that was just us and the children. We've actually only ever had one that was just us, and to be honest we regretted that one a bit as it turned out to be J's mum's last...
No, the first year we were together we each spent Christmas with our own parents, J travelling to mine on Boxing day. The next year we spent Christmas eve at his parents and made the 4 hour drive to mine after brunch to be there in time for dinner - motorway services are strange places on Christmas Day.
After that we had our own place and everyone came to us. And I do mean everyone, for the first few years we had both sets of parents plus J's sister and her now husband - though they also spent some time with his family.
Once everyone started having children it became a bit more chaotic but we'd always have either his side of the family or mine there for Christmas. One year we all went away together which was lovely.
Last year, our first on this bit of granite rock in the english channel, both my parents and J's dad joined us. It would have been lovely, had I not come down with real proper flu on Christmas eve and J succumbed on Boxing Day. No one was properly well, no one really felt like eating and we felt a huge burden to try to be the life and soul of the party.
So this year we decided would be "Just Us". Father in law would go with J's sister and her husband and spend Christmas day with her in laws. My parents would have Christmas either with my brother and his wife in Stamford or else on their own in Wales.
I confess I was a bit apprehensive, I love a big family (or even better, non family) party and like having lots of people to feed and make merry with.
It was lovely though. There was no pressure on us to do anything we didn't want to, or to work to anyone else' timetable, no trying to mediate between the needs of several generations - oh the times we've had whinging because there is yet another cartoon film on tv, yes, you read that right, the adults whinging. No this year we did exactly as we pleased, when we pleased.
It was exactly what we needed too, even on holiday there's a pressure to see things, and do things and I get antsy if I feel we're missing something, whereas J is content to sit and watch the world go by.
Being 25 weeks pregnant with twins has slowed me though, brought me more into line with his rhythms and we had such a wonderful time together.
The new year will bring a lot of tough stuff I'm sure, but we are the stronger and the better for our peaceful Christmas and we'll weather it together.
No, the first year we were together we each spent Christmas with our own parents, J travelling to mine on Boxing day. The next year we spent Christmas eve at his parents and made the 4 hour drive to mine after brunch to be there in time for dinner - motorway services are strange places on Christmas Day.
After that we had our own place and everyone came to us. And I do mean everyone, for the first few years we had both sets of parents plus J's sister and her now husband - though they also spent some time with his family.
Once everyone started having children it became a bit more chaotic but we'd always have either his side of the family or mine there for Christmas. One year we all went away together which was lovely.
Last year, our first on this bit of granite rock in the english channel, both my parents and J's dad joined us. It would have been lovely, had I not come down with real proper flu on Christmas eve and J succumbed on Boxing Day. No one was properly well, no one really felt like eating and we felt a huge burden to try to be the life and soul of the party.
So this year we decided would be "Just Us". Father in law would go with J's sister and her husband and spend Christmas day with her in laws. My parents would have Christmas either with my brother and his wife in Stamford or else on their own in Wales.
I confess I was a bit apprehensive, I love a big family (or even better, non family) party and like having lots of people to feed and make merry with.
It was lovely though. There was no pressure on us to do anything we didn't want to, or to work to anyone else' timetable, no trying to mediate between the needs of several generations - oh the times we've had whinging because there is yet another cartoon film on tv, yes, you read that right, the adults whinging. No this year we did exactly as we pleased, when we pleased.
It was exactly what we needed too, even on holiday there's a pressure to see things, and do things and I get antsy if I feel we're missing something, whereas J is content to sit and watch the world go by.
Being 25 weeks pregnant with twins has slowed me though, brought me more into line with his rhythms and we had such a wonderful time together.
The new year will bring a lot of tough stuff I'm sure, but we are the stronger and the better for our peaceful Christmas and we'll weather it together.
Saturday 7 January 2012
24 week appointment, Ben's Birthday and Mum's visit
Mum's visit was much better than I'd feared. Having had that whole spat a couple of weeks before really helped and she was far more helpful and less draining than has been the case in the past.
J had to be away overnight, Jersey again, during the week she was here so it was useful to have the extra pair of hands to help out.
His away trip meant him missing out on the Children's nativity play but that gave us a ticket mum could use and I knew she'd love to be there.
And the almost inevitable happened and she fell on the way into school. She's fallen a few times in the last few years, and always finds something to blame, the car park was dark, she lost her footing on a kerb, she got up in the night and forgot she'd moved the dog's bed, that kind of things. This time, and I suspect most of the others, she simply lost her balance. She was upset and worked up. I had to leave Ben with a friend while I went to look after her and lost all chance of a seat near the front.
She was aching all over poor thing and can't have been comfortable on the hard chairs for the 3 half hour performances, but that of course meant that I had to cope with Ben solo, and that's not easy in a confined space for an hour and a half of being quiet, and try to take some photos for J.
Josiah played his "Second Shepherd" part beautifully - and had his picture in the local paper.
Sam in his second starring role in two years, made a wonderful Christmas Chef.
Mum falling was useful in one way. Sorry for and worried about her though I was, it did mean I could explain why it would be FIL and not her who would be most useful once the babies are born as after all I couldn't risk asking her to carry a baby up the stairs etc. And I think she understood.
She was here to look after Ben for my 24 week appointment though - which was with the GP - and was fairly uneventful. Actually I'm pretty sure there was meant to be a 24 week scan too, but I heard both heart beats via the GP's sonicaid/ doppler so I'm not too worried, yet.
J had to be away overnight, Jersey again, during the week she was here so it was useful to have the extra pair of hands to help out.
His away trip meant him missing out on the Children's nativity play but that gave us a ticket mum could use and I knew she'd love to be there.
And the almost inevitable happened and she fell on the way into school. She's fallen a few times in the last few years, and always finds something to blame, the car park was dark, she lost her footing on a kerb, she got up in the night and forgot she'd moved the dog's bed, that kind of things. This time, and I suspect most of the others, she simply lost her balance. She was upset and worked up. I had to leave Ben with a friend while I went to look after her and lost all chance of a seat near the front.
She was aching all over poor thing and can't have been comfortable on the hard chairs for the 3 half hour performances, but that of course meant that I had to cope with Ben solo, and that's not easy in a confined space for an hour and a half of being quiet, and try to take some photos for J.
Josiah played his "Second Shepherd" part beautifully - and had his picture in the local paper.
Sam in his second starring role in two years, made a wonderful Christmas Chef.
Mum falling was useful in one way. Sorry for and worried about her though I was, it did mean I could explain why it would be FIL and not her who would be most useful once the babies are born as after all I couldn't risk asking her to carry a baby up the stairs etc. And I think she understood.
She was here to look after Ben for my 24 week appointment though - which was with the GP - and was fairly uneventful. Actually I'm pretty sure there was meant to be a 24 week scan too, but I heard both heart beats via the GP's sonicaid/ doppler so I'm not too worried, yet.
Some daughters do have them....
and a 75 year old to look after on top of everything else. FIL would actually drive the boys to school at least.
Ouch, Ouch, Owwwwwww!!!
I'd had a few twinges that I thought were maybe SPD*, I'd managed to escape it in previous pregnancies, but twins are more prone to causing it so I wasn't too surprised. I asked on the baby forum I belong to and the experiences sounded familiar.
I'd mentioned it to the sonographer who'd done the 20 week scan who'd told me "well, that package of babies, and placentas and sacs isn't far of the weight of a term singleton so you need to take it easy" some hope, with 3 children of my own, Father in law staying and a birthday party for 15 children to host - all in one weekend!
First though Sam had his football lesson. Father in law wanted to see him play and the other two boys like the climbing frames at the venue, so we all went. J and his dad took it in turns to watch the football while I spread out a picnic blanket and sat on the ground to watch the lesson for an hour and a quarter.
What a mistake! I could barely stand once the session finished. Getting in and out of the car was horrendous.
Sam had a party to attend that afternoon - the friend who is also having a sibling in the spring has his birthday the day after Sam - so we dropped him off, arranged for a friend to bring him home and I took to the sofa, and my bed and anywhere I could get vaguely comfortable.
Sam's party next day was at the local Cricket Centre, a sports party where two young, sporty guys put the children through their paces, organised the food and were generally wonderful. It was the perfect party in everyway. The children loved it, were occupied and used more energy than they consumed in sugary things, and best of all we as adults were able to look on fondly and let the sports guys do the rest. Fab!
For the next few days the SPD raged. And everything seemed conspiring to make it worse, Ben fell on the school run and had to be carried, J needed driving to a meeting on the other side of the island in rush hour meaning I had to be on and off the clutch a lot.
I kept doing the things my research into SPD had suggested and it did ease over time thankfully. I'm not keen on the idea of spending a huge chunk of this pregnancy on crutches....
*SPDis a condition that causes excessive movement of the pubic symphisis, either anterior or lateral, as well as associated pain, possibly because of a misalignment of the pelvis. SPD is a dysfunction that is associated with pevlvic girdle pain (PGP) and the names are often used interchangeably. It is thought to affect up to one in four pregnant women to varying degrees, with 7% of sufferers continuing to experience serious symptoms postpartum. Although the condition was recognised by Hippocrates, incidences of SPD appear to have increased in recent years; it is unclear whether this is because the average maternal age is increasing, or because the condition is being diagnosed more frequently.
I'd mentioned it to the sonographer who'd done the 20 week scan who'd told me "well, that package of babies, and placentas and sacs isn't far of the weight of a term singleton so you need to take it easy" some hope, with 3 children of my own, Father in law staying and a birthday party for 15 children to host - all in one weekend!
First though Sam had his football lesson. Father in law wanted to see him play and the other two boys like the climbing frames at the venue, so we all went. J and his dad took it in turns to watch the football while I spread out a picnic blanket and sat on the ground to watch the lesson for an hour and a quarter.
What a mistake! I could barely stand once the session finished. Getting in and out of the car was horrendous.
Sam had a party to attend that afternoon - the friend who is also having a sibling in the spring has his birthday the day after Sam - so we dropped him off, arranged for a friend to bring him home and I took to the sofa, and my bed and anywhere I could get vaguely comfortable.
Sam's party next day was at the local Cricket Centre, a sports party where two young, sporty guys put the children through their paces, organised the food and were generally wonderful. It was the perfect party in everyway. The children loved it, were occupied and used more energy than they consumed in sugary things, and best of all we as adults were able to look on fondly and let the sports guys do the rest. Fab!
For the next few days the SPD raged. And everything seemed conspiring to make it worse, Ben fell on the school run and had to be carried, J needed driving to a meeting on the other side of the island in rush hour meaning I had to be on and off the clutch a lot.
I kept doing the things my research into SPD had suggested and it did ease over time thankfully. I'm not keen on the idea of spending a huge chunk of this pregnancy on crutches....
*SPDis a condition that causes excessive movement of the pubic symphisis, either anterior or lateral, as well as associated pain, possibly because of a misalignment of the pelvis. SPD is a dysfunction that is associated with pevlvic girdle pain (PGP) and the names are often used interchangeably. It is thought to affect up to one in four pregnant women to varying degrees, with 7% of sufferers continuing to experience serious symptoms postpartum. Although the condition was recognised by Hippocrates, incidences of SPD appear to have increased in recent years; it is unclear whether this is because the average maternal age is increasing, or because the condition is being diagnosed more frequently.
Friday 6 January 2012
"Are you going to find out?"
The twenty week scan.
It was on Sam's 6th birthday so FIL was staying and we were able to leave the children with him. My first thought was that this was brilliant timing, my second that it would be very hard to give him a wonderful birthday if the scan brought bad news. Still that was the scheduled date.
We ummed and ah'ed for a while about whether or not to "find out the babies genders. We'd found out with the eldest but not the youngest so we'd done both and knew that neither was inherently better than the other.
Ultimately two things decided us, one was that an old friend of mine with twins - one of the few who had a singleton baby and then twins, said we should as it would help us get used to the whole "two-ness" and second the boys really wanted to know. They all had different opinions on what they answer ought to be, Sam wanted two sisters, Josiah two brothers, Ben was determined that they should both be boys but added "And we'll call the boy one Knighty and the girl one Princess" which was a little confusing, but them he wasn't quite 3!
For me it was a difficult decision. Obviously I have 3 boys and no girls, and I know that many people think Ben was a failed "try for a girl" - he wasn't, I was convinced throughout the pregnancy that the baby I was carrying was a boy and as soon as I held him I knew two things, that I was right and that he was just perfect.
But sometimes I do yearn for the things that having a girl might mean: Dolls and dolls' houses and frilly pink things; dance classes and girlish confidences.
Christmasses spent watching "The Nutcracker", "Ballet Shoes", "The Sound of Music" and "Gone With the Wind".
The chance to at some point be "Mummy's mum."
It's not that I don't want boys. If I had only girls I'd be longing for rugby matches and muddy knees and sons who'd someday tower over me.
It's that when you only have one kind, you don't have the other.
Anyway we decided we'd find out.
Once the scan was well underway and everything had been confirmed as fine so far - that same amazing scanner - we could even see earlobes and confirm that there were no cleft lips etc and once it had been confirmed that both babies were measuring bang on for dates as if they were singletons we asked the question.
The baby lying on the top is, we're told, almost certainly a boy. The one underneath gave us no doubts, hands behind his head, waving his genitals about.
So, five boys then...
We're going to need a lot of female pets, I am going to be totally outnumbered!
It was on Sam's 6th birthday so FIL was staying and we were able to leave the children with him. My first thought was that this was brilliant timing, my second that it would be very hard to give him a wonderful birthday if the scan brought bad news. Still that was the scheduled date.
We ummed and ah'ed for a while about whether or not to "find out the babies genders. We'd found out with the eldest but not the youngest so we'd done both and knew that neither was inherently better than the other.
Ultimately two things decided us, one was that an old friend of mine with twins - one of the few who had a singleton baby and then twins, said we should as it would help us get used to the whole "two-ness" and second the boys really wanted to know. They all had different opinions on what they answer ought to be, Sam wanted two sisters, Josiah two brothers, Ben was determined that they should both be boys but added "And we'll call the boy one Knighty and the girl one Princess" which was a little confusing, but them he wasn't quite 3!
For me it was a difficult decision. Obviously I have 3 boys and no girls, and I know that many people think Ben was a failed "try for a girl" - he wasn't, I was convinced throughout the pregnancy that the baby I was carrying was a boy and as soon as I held him I knew two things, that I was right and that he was just perfect.
But sometimes I do yearn for the things that having a girl might mean: Dolls and dolls' houses and frilly pink things; dance classes and girlish confidences.
Christmasses spent watching "The Nutcracker", "Ballet Shoes", "The Sound of Music" and "Gone With the Wind".
The chance to at some point be "Mummy's mum."
It's not that I don't want boys. If I had only girls I'd be longing for rugby matches and muddy knees and sons who'd someday tower over me.
It's that when you only have one kind, you don't have the other.
Anyway we decided we'd find out.
Once the scan was well underway and everything had been confirmed as fine so far - that same amazing scanner - we could even see earlobes and confirm that there were no cleft lips etc and once it had been confirmed that both babies were measuring bang on for dates as if they were singletons we asked the question.
The baby lying on the top is, we're told, almost certainly a boy. The one underneath gave us no doubts, hands behind his head, waving his genitals about.
So, five boys then...
We're going to need a lot of female pets, I am going to be totally outnumbered!
Going public...
So I'd told my mum and J, after some persuading, called his dad. He won't admit it but I think there's a certain amount of "but it's discussing my sex life" horror about it for him too, but I wanted to tell the children when the time was right, not wait because we hadn't told other people and so on.
J's dad was clearly blown away by the news. There is something about announcing twins that's different to announcing a singleton pregnancy. Anyway he was pleased and excited so that was nice.
We called J's sister and I emailed my brother, each of whom called our sanity into question in a joking manner and then we told some friends.
Then I realised we hadn't told the boys yet...
Telling children they are going to have a sibling is a tremulous experience, they can react in so many varying ways, and what one needs as reassurance can have a detrimental effect on another, so having to tell three similar, but in many ways different, children at the same time is scary.
We were fairly confident Sam would be fine, after all he's been through it twice and having babies arrive is a fairly commonplace occurrence for him, what was more, one of his best friends at school had recently told him that he was to have a baby brother or sister in the spring. This would tie in nicely.
Ben, the current baby of the family could have gone either way, at almost 3 as he was at the time he wasn't a fan of babies.
And Josiah was the real unknown quantity, in many ways Josiah is my most sunshiny child, he's generally a delight, but he has moments of thunder and lightning, he displays a lot of the legendary "middle child syndrome" qualities. If we wanted him to react well, we had to choose our moment carefully.
It came a couple of Sundays later. We'd had a lovely afternoon, a big family tea and were still sitting round the table laughing and joking together.
Sam's first reaction was "But where will we put the shopping? The car will be full!"
The tack we'd taken with Ben was that he would be a big brother, and he was delighted with this news, although I need to remember that he's not faced the reality of a sibling yet, so this may change...
Josiah was a cheeky delight, "We can call them Loo-loo and Poo-poo!"
J's dad was clearly blown away by the news. There is something about announcing twins that's different to announcing a singleton pregnancy. Anyway he was pleased and excited so that was nice.
We called J's sister and I emailed my brother, each of whom called our sanity into question in a joking manner and then we told some friends.
Then I realised we hadn't told the boys yet...
Telling children they are going to have a sibling is a tremulous experience, they can react in so many varying ways, and what one needs as reassurance can have a detrimental effect on another, so having to tell three similar, but in many ways different, children at the same time is scary.
We were fairly confident Sam would be fine, after all he's been through it twice and having babies arrive is a fairly commonplace occurrence for him, what was more, one of his best friends at school had recently told him that he was to have a baby brother or sister in the spring. This would tie in nicely.
Ben, the current baby of the family could have gone either way, at almost 3 as he was at the time he wasn't a fan of babies.
And Josiah was the real unknown quantity, in many ways Josiah is my most sunshiny child, he's generally a delight, but he has moments of thunder and lightning, he displays a lot of the legendary "middle child syndrome" qualities. If we wanted him to react well, we had to choose our moment carefully.
It came a couple of Sundays later. We'd had a lovely afternoon, a big family tea and were still sitting round the table laughing and joking together.
Sam's first reaction was "But where will we put the shopping? The car will be full!"
The tack we'd taken with Ben was that he would be a big brother, and he was delighted with this news, although I need to remember that he's not faced the reality of a sibling yet, so this may change...
Josiah was a cheeky delight, "We can call them Loo-loo and Poo-poo!"
And the next hurdle...
Telling people, more specifically telling our parents.
Why is it that even when you are forty, and married, with 3 children already, telling your parents you are having another baby still feels a bit like you're informing them you've had sex for the first time.
In fact one friend's parent responded in exactly that way when informed about her first grandchild: "You had sex then?" about 3 years after her daughter had moved in with her partner...
And being a long way away it had to be on the phone. It's never easy to build up to, harder still when your mother is determined to tell you, instead of listening to your momentous news, that the sister of a girl you never met but who she used to teach to swim is now working at the local council....
Anyway:
Why is it that even when you are forty, and married, with 3 children already, telling your parents you are having another baby still feels a bit like you're informing them you've had sex for the first time.
In fact one friend's parent responded in exactly that way when informed about her first grandchild: "You had sex then?" about 3 years after her daughter had moved in with her partner...
And being a long way away it had to be on the phone. It's never easy to build up to, harder still when your mother is determined to tell you, instead of listening to your momentous news, that the sister of a girl you never met but who she used to teach to swim is now working at the local council....
Anyway:
So, we won't think about that yet, plenty of time...
So I put aside thoughts of the birth, no point fretting when I didn't know how they'd be lying at 30 odd weeks after all, and I started to think about the other stuff that needed to happen in preparation.
Most of the twin mums I chatted to had had twins as their first children or following a singleton. So they were generally of the "well, you'll need a twin pram, two of x two of y...." variety.
Luckily we already have a 7 seater car, so that was one expense we didn't have to fret about. And a cot and a promise of another, and carseats and bases that are still among the safest on the market.
Then we came to prams, having had 3 babies in fairly close succession I already have, as well as the lovely Bugaboo my MIL bought for my first baby, a Phil and Ted's double buggy that wasn't exactly cheap, in fact between the two they represented about £1500 of investment. I had no intention of shelling out the best part of £1000 on another pram unless it was absolutely necessary and for all they were telling me it was a must have, and that it needn't be too expensive I was sure that it wasn't absolutely essential and would be very pricey.
We almost came to, virtual, blows.
The town I live in, St Peter Port, is lovely, but not pram friendly. The vast majority of shops have floors that are only accessible via the stairs. And it's not just the shops, St Peter Port is on a hill, and there are lots of steps, avoiding them means walking along often un-pavemented roads. The streets are granite cobbled. There is no requirement for gaps between shop displays to be wide enough for a wheelchair (which has made UK shopping centres so much easier for buggy users) and I have 3 other children who need to walk alongside me. The eldest will be 6 when the twins are born. So if I did buy a twin pram it would have to be one of the smallest and most manouverable on the market - and therefore one of the more expensive ones. Plus it would have to fit into the limited bootspace that remains in the car once all seven seats are in use...
So I looked into whether or not I could just use the P&T. The second seat isn't meant to be used until 6 moths, but that did at least mean that I knew if we could get to 6 months we'd be fine. And when they were very tiny couldn't they both go in the bugaboo carrycot? As babies did in the old days? But what about in between? Some research told me that you could now get a car seat adaptor for the P&T, which would mean I could have one baby on top in the car seat and the other underneath, in the lie flat bit.
Not ideal as you don't want babies in their car seats for more than 2 hours at a time, but on an island 5 miles by 9 I can't see it's a huge issue, especially as if we reach the 2 hour mark I can swap them over. And I'm not sure any of my babies has ever gone more than 2 hours without a feed anyway.
Sorted.
Most of the twin mums I chatted to had had twins as their first children or following a singleton. So they were generally of the "well, you'll need a twin pram, two of x two of y...." variety.
Luckily we already have a 7 seater car, so that was one expense we didn't have to fret about. And a cot and a promise of another, and carseats and bases that are still among the safest on the market.
Then we came to prams, having had 3 babies in fairly close succession I already have, as well as the lovely Bugaboo my MIL bought for my first baby, a Phil and Ted's double buggy that wasn't exactly cheap, in fact between the two they represented about £1500 of investment. I had no intention of shelling out the best part of £1000 on another pram unless it was absolutely necessary and for all they were telling me it was a must have, and that it needn't be too expensive I was sure that it wasn't absolutely essential and would be very pricey.
We almost came to, virtual, blows.
The town I live in, St Peter Port, is lovely, but not pram friendly. The vast majority of shops have floors that are only accessible via the stairs. And it's not just the shops, St Peter Port is on a hill, and there are lots of steps, avoiding them means walking along often un-pavemented roads. The streets are granite cobbled. There is no requirement for gaps between shop displays to be wide enough for a wheelchair (which has made UK shopping centres so much easier for buggy users) and I have 3 other children who need to walk alongside me. The eldest will be 6 when the twins are born. So if I did buy a twin pram it would have to be one of the smallest and most manouverable on the market - and therefore one of the more expensive ones. Plus it would have to fit into the limited bootspace that remains in the car once all seven seats are in use...
So I looked into whether or not I could just use the P&T. The second seat isn't meant to be used until 6 moths, but that did at least mean that I knew if we could get to 6 months we'd be fine. And when they were very tiny couldn't they both go in the bugaboo carrycot? As babies did in the old days? But what about in between? Some research told me that you could now get a car seat adaptor for the P&T, which would mean I could have one baby on top in the car seat and the other underneath, in the lie flat bit.
Not ideal as you don't want babies in their car seats for more than 2 hours at a time, but on an island 5 miles by 9 I can't see it's a huge issue, especially as if we reach the 2 hour mark I can swap them over. And I'm not sure any of my babies has ever gone more than 2 hours without a feed anyway.
Sorted.
Some facts and figures.... And speculation ;0)
Statistically 60% of twins in the UK are born by caesarian, compared to 25% of singletons.
In about 75% of cases by the time you go into labour twin 1 is head down.
In 40% of cases both are head down - most UK consultants would recommend trying vaginal birth in this circumstance..
In 35% of cases the second is breech - this in itself doesn't stop you attempting natural birth.
In 25% of cases baby 1 is breech and there's an automatic caesarian.
It's not unusual for baby 1 to be delivered naturally and baby 2 by c-section.
Forceps are more common for twins than for singletons*
Also because an ever increasing proportion of twins are 1st babies, due to IVF etc this possibly also makes intervention more likely.
*this, imo, might be at least in part because they need to do more monitoring, there's more automatic intervention and you are a lot less mobile in labour
In about 75% of cases by the time you go into labour twin 1 is head down.
In 40% of cases both are head down - most UK consultants would recommend trying vaginal birth in this circumstance..
In 35% of cases the second is breech - this in itself doesn't stop you attempting natural birth.
In 25% of cases baby 1 is breech and there's an automatic caesarian.
It's not unusual for baby 1 to be delivered naturally and baby 2 by c-section.
Forceps are more common for twins than for singletons*
Also because an ever increasing proportion of twins are 1st babies, due to IVF etc this possibly also makes intervention more likely.
*this, imo, might be at least in part because they need to do more monitoring, there's more automatic intervention and you are a lot less mobile in labour
Food for thought....
Thursday 5 January 2012
So I read the book that tells you what to expect....
The book J brought back from Jersey had some really helpful information on raising twins, it made me think about things like whether we tell them who is the older, about naming them so that alphabetically the younger comes first.
It also made me sad me. The chapter on labour and birth was depressing.
Yes, all things being equal, and positioning being good, you can deliver twins vaginally, but...
You will have an epidural. Will I? What if I don't want one? Or don't need one, I know twins is different but I've delivered two of three babies without one. Why assume I'll need one? Because you might deliver the first baby and then have a problem which means they need to take action quickly. So can they site it but not use it until it's necessary? No, because that's how they know if it's working.
Right, but I was hoping I'd be able to be mobile in labour... Ah well that's probably not possible anyway, because they'll need to monitor both babies continuously, one via the abdominal pads and the other via a scalp clip. And anyway, you'll have a drip in for the syntocinion. What syntocinon? Why will I need that if I'm in labour? Ah well the contractions might stop after baby one is born. So it's "just in case?". Yes.
Now I'm no fool, I'm not about to insist on anything that could be risky, I'm happy to accept any medical intervention that is necessary, but that's the point. I'm not at all sure about receiving lots of treatment, and drugs that I might not need....
It also made me sad me. The chapter on labour and birth was depressing.
Yes, all things being equal, and positioning being good, you can deliver twins vaginally, but...
You will have an epidural. Will I? What if I don't want one? Or don't need one, I know twins is different but I've delivered two of three babies without one. Why assume I'll need one? Because you might deliver the first baby and then have a problem which means they need to take action quickly. So can they site it but not use it until it's necessary? No, because that's how they know if it's working.
Right, but I was hoping I'd be able to be mobile in labour... Ah well that's probably not possible anyway, because they'll need to monitor both babies continuously, one via the abdominal pads and the other via a scalp clip. And anyway, you'll have a drip in for the syntocinion. What syntocinon? Why will I need that if I'm in labour? Ah well the contractions might stop after baby one is born. So it's "just in case?". Yes.
Now I'm no fool, I'm not about to insist on anything that could be risky, I'm happy to accept any medical intervention that is necessary, but that's the point. I'm not at all sure about receiving lots of treatment, and drugs that I might not need....
Best laid plans...
J got back from Jersey with the book and I started reading it straight away.
Having done the whole birth and labour thing before, 3 times, there are things I know, or think I know, do and don't work for me.
I have always hoped for a waterbirth. I know that being in water is liberating for me, I know that it's support has always helped with period pains and in fact all aches and niggles.
In my first pregnancy I was hampered by my issues with iron, the local unit's cut off for water birth and in fact for the midwife led unit as a whole was a Hb count of 10. I struggled with this. I'm normally anaemic, low iron is what is normal for me, so it being at 9.4 rather than 11.2 was less of a change than for the average person.
I did my research, I ate iron rich foods, I avoided foods which affect absorption, I took 3 different types of iron tablet til I found one that didn't make me sick. It's testament to how well I did that despite not taking the tablets J's poo also went black as a result of the high iron diet we were eating. By hook or by crook I was dragging that iron result up! And at 40 weeks it hit 10.2, my lovely midwife laughed "I don't think we'll test that again" she said "Just in case it drops!"
I had done it, I was on for a water birth at the wonderful midwife led centre 5 minutes from home. I wasn't going to have to go and have a highly medicalised birth at the consultant unit 45 minutes away.
So of course it was a very long slow labour, and at some point they decided that I needed to be checked at the big hospital and I was transferred and ended up with a highly medicalised birth and all manner of stuff I hadn't wanted.
My baby was stuck, and in distress, and all of a sudden he needed to be out very quickly.
And everything happened at once, J was dragged off to scrub up, I was given forms to sign, told they would five a high cavity rotation and delivery with forceps one go, if it didn't work, it would be a crash section.
The epidural stopped working and they said they'd sort it in theatre, J got back as I was rushed into theatre, the room was filled with people - it was a shift change over time so we had 2 of everyone - they gave me a spinal block, to top up the now useless epidural, it didn't work, the paediatrician shouted over my head at the OB-Gyn, "we need this baby out NOW!" I was given a massive dose of diamorphine.
And I watched from somewhere on the ceiling as my baby was delivered, scored one on the apgar scale and was revived.
I had a pph. They discussed transfusion and decide to wait and see.
I was in recovery a long time - on the upside the baby, Sam, scored 10 on the apgar by 10 minutes and was lifting his head to look around by the time he was half an hour old.
I spent 5 days in hospital, the first night at the Consultant hospital and then transferring to the MLU in my home town, where they were wonderful but it took me a long time to recover from the experience.
When I was pregnant with Josiah they said right from the start that while there was no reason to suppose he would get stuck as Sam had done, they'd want me to be consultant led because of the PPH.
I didn't argue, and if I'm honest didn't worry too much about my iron. They wouldn't let me have a waterbirth or a MLU birth anyway so why fight it.
However, unlike the long slow labour with Sam, Josiah was in a hurry.
I suspected things were moving so we called my father in law who was coming up to take care of Sam once he came out of nursery, we went for a walk, had some lunch and at about 4pm, with contractions coming fairly thick and fast we headed to the hospital, where they examined me, told me I wasn't in labour - in fact I was less than 1 centimetre dilated (my midwife had said I was 2cms when she had done a sweep two days earlier) and sent me home.
I cried in the car, how could I know my body so little?
My father in law was there when we got home and we collected Sam from nursery. I asked them to get their own dinner, I didn't want anything, and went upstairs.
I lay down on my bed, J and his dad and Sam had gone into the garden. I heard a pop sound, my waters had broken.
I shouted for J, he was in the garden and didn't hear. I think it was about 5 minutes before he made it to the bathroom, he phoned the hospital, they tried to put me on the phone, I couldn't take it from him.
Unbeknownst to me they asked if he wanted an ambulance, he said no, thinking it would be faster to drive me in. In retrospect this was a bad idea.
The 40 minute drive took us 20, he jumped two red lights. We arrived at the hospital ambulance entrance less than 2 hours after they had sent us home, they came out to meet us, took one look at me and told J he could leave the car there.
They had left a woman they were moving from labour to delivery in the corridor, but she wasn't there long.
He was crowning as they lifted me onto the bed, and was born within 3 minutes, the cord wrapped twice around his neck, less than ten minutes earlier we'd been doing 90 on the M5.
Unlike his brother he score 10 right from the start, and he too was lifting his head to look round within 30 minutes.
My recovery was fast, I could have walked home. Yes it had been stressful, and panicked and so much could have gone wrong, and just typing this has brought tears to my eyes, but I felt great.
So when I was expecting Ben, and my iron was again an issue, despite iron injections and following the same rules I had with Sam around what we did and didn't eat. I kicked up a fuss. I understood what they were saying about how the risk was greater because of my iron count and that this would mean I was safer at the Consultant hospital, BUT I felt this needed to be balanced against the risk of the baby being born on the motorway, surely anywhere, with medical staff on duty, would be better and safer.
All credit to the team they talked through my fears, listened to my concerns and agreed an individual care and action plan especially for me. In labour I would attend the MLU, if I was 7 cms they would keep me with them, if I was more than but less than 7 they would blue light me to the "Big hospital", with a midwife in attendance.
In the event I was 6 cms. And the ambulance came. Another quick, easy birth, 15 minutes after we got to the hospital.
Another baby who scored 10 on the apgar scale and was looking around within minutes. Another delivery I could have walked home after.
So when I found out about pregnancy number 4 I was determined that this time I would get my waterbirth. I even started taking iron from day one.
But they don't like waterbirth with twins, ah well, best laid plans and all that - though I haven't entirely given up yet, watch this space!
Having done the whole birth and labour thing before, 3 times, there are things I know, or think I know, do and don't work for me.
I have always hoped for a waterbirth. I know that being in water is liberating for me, I know that it's support has always helped with period pains and in fact all aches and niggles.
In my first pregnancy I was hampered by my issues with iron, the local unit's cut off for water birth and in fact for the midwife led unit as a whole was a Hb count of 10. I struggled with this. I'm normally anaemic, low iron is what is normal for me, so it being at 9.4 rather than 11.2 was less of a change than for the average person.
I did my research, I ate iron rich foods, I avoided foods which affect absorption, I took 3 different types of iron tablet til I found one that didn't make me sick. It's testament to how well I did that despite not taking the tablets J's poo also went black as a result of the high iron diet we were eating. By hook or by crook I was dragging that iron result up! And at 40 weeks it hit 10.2, my lovely midwife laughed "I don't think we'll test that again" she said "Just in case it drops!"
I had done it, I was on for a water birth at the wonderful midwife led centre 5 minutes from home. I wasn't going to have to go and have a highly medicalised birth at the consultant unit 45 minutes away.
So of course it was a very long slow labour, and at some point they decided that I needed to be checked at the big hospital and I was transferred and ended up with a highly medicalised birth and all manner of stuff I hadn't wanted.
My baby was stuck, and in distress, and all of a sudden he needed to be out very quickly.
And everything happened at once, J was dragged off to scrub up, I was given forms to sign, told they would five a high cavity rotation and delivery with forceps one go, if it didn't work, it would be a crash section.
The epidural stopped working and they said they'd sort it in theatre, J got back as I was rushed into theatre, the room was filled with people - it was a shift change over time so we had 2 of everyone - they gave me a spinal block, to top up the now useless epidural, it didn't work, the paediatrician shouted over my head at the OB-Gyn, "we need this baby out NOW!" I was given a massive dose of diamorphine.
And I watched from somewhere on the ceiling as my baby was delivered, scored one on the apgar scale and was revived.
I had a pph. They discussed transfusion and decide to wait and see.
I was in recovery a long time - on the upside the baby, Sam, scored 10 on the apgar by 10 minutes and was lifting his head to look around by the time he was half an hour old.
I spent 5 days in hospital, the first night at the Consultant hospital and then transferring to the MLU in my home town, where they were wonderful but it took me a long time to recover from the experience.
When I was pregnant with Josiah they said right from the start that while there was no reason to suppose he would get stuck as Sam had done, they'd want me to be consultant led because of the PPH.
I didn't argue, and if I'm honest didn't worry too much about my iron. They wouldn't let me have a waterbirth or a MLU birth anyway so why fight it.
However, unlike the long slow labour with Sam, Josiah was in a hurry.
I suspected things were moving so we called my father in law who was coming up to take care of Sam once he came out of nursery, we went for a walk, had some lunch and at about 4pm, with contractions coming fairly thick and fast we headed to the hospital, where they examined me, told me I wasn't in labour - in fact I was less than 1 centimetre dilated (my midwife had said I was 2cms when she had done a sweep two days earlier) and sent me home.
I cried in the car, how could I know my body so little?
My father in law was there when we got home and we collected Sam from nursery. I asked them to get their own dinner, I didn't want anything, and went upstairs.
I lay down on my bed, J and his dad and Sam had gone into the garden. I heard a pop sound, my waters had broken.
I shouted for J, he was in the garden and didn't hear. I think it was about 5 minutes before he made it to the bathroom, he phoned the hospital, they tried to put me on the phone, I couldn't take it from him.
Unbeknownst to me they asked if he wanted an ambulance, he said no, thinking it would be faster to drive me in. In retrospect this was a bad idea.
The 40 minute drive took us 20, he jumped two red lights. We arrived at the hospital ambulance entrance less than 2 hours after they had sent us home, they came out to meet us, took one look at me and told J he could leave the car there.
They had left a woman they were moving from labour to delivery in the corridor, but she wasn't there long.
He was crowning as they lifted me onto the bed, and was born within 3 minutes, the cord wrapped twice around his neck, less than ten minutes earlier we'd been doing 90 on the M5.
Unlike his brother he score 10 right from the start, and he too was lifting his head to look round within 30 minutes.
My recovery was fast, I could have walked home. Yes it had been stressful, and panicked and so much could have gone wrong, and just typing this has brought tears to my eyes, but I felt great.
So when I was expecting Ben, and my iron was again an issue, despite iron injections and following the same rules I had with Sam around what we did and didn't eat. I kicked up a fuss. I understood what they were saying about how the risk was greater because of my iron count and that this would mean I was safer at the Consultant hospital, BUT I felt this needed to be balanced against the risk of the baby being born on the motorway, surely anywhere, with medical staff on duty, would be better and safer.
All credit to the team they talked through my fears, listened to my concerns and agreed an individual care and action plan especially for me. In labour I would attend the MLU, if I was 7 cms they would keep me with them, if I was more than but less than 7 they would blue light me to the "Big hospital", with a midwife in attendance.
In the event I was 6 cms. And the ambulance came. Another quick, easy birth, 15 minutes after we got to the hospital.
Another baby who scored 10 on the apgar scale and was looking around within minutes. Another delivery I could have walked home after.
So when I found out about pregnancy number 4 I was determined that this time I would get my waterbirth. I even started taking iron from day one.
But they don't like waterbirth with twins, ah well, best laid plans and all that - though I haven't entirely given up yet, watch this space!
Research, Research, Research....
We stopped at M&S on the way home to pick up something J could have for lunch at his desk and a sandwich for my friend Mel and me.
I stood in front of the refrigerated cabinet staring blankly at the packets in front of me.
"Two babies, twins!"
At home I put the kettle on and told Mel about the scan. We looked at the pictures and marvelled.
That evening was the first PTA meeting of term, I'm Vice-Chair. I have absolutely no clue what we discussed at that meeting.
Other than Mel we decided that until we'd had the nuchal scan at least we wouldn't tell people yet that we were having another baby, or rather two more babies. We needed time to get our own heads around the idea. Having a fourth baby was one thing, and we'd spent a fair amount of time deciding if that wasn't a crazy idea. Having a fifth? Well, clearly that was indeed the way madness lay.
At home I turned on the laptop, searching for all the information I could find.
The twin mums on a forum I'm part of were fabulously helpful, explaining the differences between monochorionic and dichorionic twins, mono and diamniotic twins, the pleasures and pitfalls.
But information wasn't easy to come by through other means.
Next day I tried the bookshops in our town. St Peter Port isn't big but we have a few booksellers. None of them had anything on twins.
"Never mind, I'm on Jersey next week, I'll look there" J tried to stem my frustration.
"When next week?" I asked.
Yes, that's right, the day of the nuchal scan.
The night before the scan we booked an early dinner out and arranged a babysitter, we were still in that strange "otherworldly" place where we weren't entirely sure this was happening to us and some time out seemed like a good idea.
We had a lovely evening and a great dinner, but of course true to the form of the previous few weeks, within five minutes of getting home I had thrown up. The babysitter, a good friend gave me a knowing look, "Hmmm" she said.
The nuchal scan was at the same clinic, on the same machine but done by another consultant. He wasn't chatty, in fact he scanned one twin and then moved on to the other before saying: "Oh twin one looks fine by the way."
Twin two's results were good too. This was a huge relief, after all life with 3 young boys, plus two newborns was going to be challenging enough without either one of them having special needs.
The consultant confirmed that there were two separate sacs and placentas and confirmed what I'd been told, that they were probably, but not definitely fraternal twins.
He confirmed that I was 13 weeks pregnant according to the size and development of both babies and he worked out that 40 weeks (normal "full term" for pregnancy) would be Easter Sunday. This was what I'd thought and given that all 3 of our older boys had been born a week "late" at 41 weeks I'd calculated that his meant our fourth child would have his birthday in the same week as his Granddad, and his cousin I, and his cousin K.
But the consultant went on, "37 weeks is term for twins though so that's mid-March" (Grandma's birthday week) "We'll aim for that and get you as far along as we can. We don't want them born before Christmas, and if it's before the end of January you'll need to be taken to Southampton"
Suddenly they were talking not just about when my baby (sorry, babies!) would be born but about a very real chance that they would be early, and they were saying this in a very matter of fact way. Gulp.
I sent J a text knowing he'd be struggling to concentrate on his meeting until he knew all was well sent another two to friends in the UK, and went to collect Ben from another friend who had looked after him while I'd been for the scan.
"Is everything all right?" She asked, inviting me in for a cup of tea, she knew I'd had scans in 2 consecutive weeks and had looked ropey for some time and was concerned.
When I told her she nearly dropped the teapot!
I stood in front of the refrigerated cabinet staring blankly at the packets in front of me.
"Two babies, twins!"
At home I put the kettle on and told Mel about the scan. We looked at the pictures and marvelled.
That evening was the first PTA meeting of term, I'm Vice-Chair. I have absolutely no clue what we discussed at that meeting.
Other than Mel we decided that until we'd had the nuchal scan at least we wouldn't tell people yet that we were having another baby, or rather two more babies. We needed time to get our own heads around the idea. Having a fourth baby was one thing, and we'd spent a fair amount of time deciding if that wasn't a crazy idea. Having a fifth? Well, clearly that was indeed the way madness lay.
At home I turned on the laptop, searching for all the information I could find.
The twin mums on a forum I'm part of were fabulously helpful, explaining the differences between monochorionic and dichorionic twins, mono and diamniotic twins, the pleasures and pitfalls.
But information wasn't easy to come by through other means.
Next day I tried the bookshops in our town. St Peter Port isn't big but we have a few booksellers. None of them had anything on twins.
"Never mind, I'm on Jersey next week, I'll look there" J tried to stem my frustration.
"When next week?" I asked.
Yes, that's right, the day of the nuchal scan.
The night before the scan we booked an early dinner out and arranged a babysitter, we were still in that strange "otherworldly" place where we weren't entirely sure this was happening to us and some time out seemed like a good idea.
We had a lovely evening and a great dinner, but of course true to the form of the previous few weeks, within five minutes of getting home I had thrown up. The babysitter, a good friend gave me a knowing look, "Hmmm" she said.
The nuchal scan was at the same clinic, on the same machine but done by another consultant. He wasn't chatty, in fact he scanned one twin and then moved on to the other before saying: "Oh twin one looks fine by the way."
Twin two's results were good too. This was a huge relief, after all life with 3 young boys, plus two newborns was going to be challenging enough without either one of them having special needs.
The consultant confirmed that there were two separate sacs and placentas and confirmed what I'd been told, that they were probably, but not definitely fraternal twins.
He confirmed that I was 13 weeks pregnant according to the size and development of both babies and he worked out that 40 weeks (normal "full term" for pregnancy) would be Easter Sunday. This was what I'd thought and given that all 3 of our older boys had been born a week "late" at 41 weeks I'd calculated that his meant our fourth child would have his birthday in the same week as his Granddad, and his cousin I, and his cousin K.
But the consultant went on, "37 weeks is term for twins though so that's mid-March" (Grandma's birthday week) "We'll aim for that and get you as far along as we can. We don't want them born before Christmas, and if it's before the end of January you'll need to be taken to Southampton"
Suddenly they were talking not just about when my baby (sorry, babies!) would be born but about a very real chance that they would be early, and they were saying this in a very matter of fact way. Gulp.
I sent J a text knowing he'd be struggling to concentrate on his meeting until he knew all was well sent another two to friends in the UK, and went to collect Ben from another friend who had looked after him while I'd been for the scan.
"Is everything all right?" She asked, inviting me in for a cup of tea, she knew I'd had scans in 2 consecutive weeks and had looked ropey for some time and was concerned.
When I told her she nearly dropped the teapot!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)