Is it you?

I think it's entirely understandable right now that I'm a bit of a mess as Tuesday slides closer into view. So I'm not going to say much other than two bits. It's my cousin's wedding today and yesterday was spent searching Westfield for something to wear. I had to go anyway as one of my kids smashed my phone screen by accident the previous day (I was going to go on Friday but was then held up at school with a child protection case- always a pleasure to spend my evening chatting to the emergency services! Doesn't matter how many times you speak to the police and confirm whether you believe it to be a neglect case or not- there is a huge amount of fear that you might have got it wrong.)

Anyway, after my tutoring jobs yesterday, I headed off to Stratford to see what I could find. It wasn't really a very good day- I spent most of it either crying or worrying. I was even tempted again to get a private scan done but as my mum mentioned in the evening when I saw her, even with a scan every other week for her pregnancy with my brother, it wasn't enough. There was also a massive fear that I wasn't going to fit into anything-which was sort of true. The maternity stuff swamped me and normal stuff was all skewiff with my porn star boobs. I was brave, I went into Mamas and Papas and tried stuff on and I tried New Look's Maternity range too. It was a bit of a blow out as I ended up buying three dresses that were a bit shit and not really suitable for a wedding. At this point, I was almost sobbing as nothing was right and what if these maternity dresses were a total waste of money with the outcome of the dating scan? I then popped into Monsoon with the hope of buying a cardi to throw over the top of the dreadful dresses when I found something pretty special. A lovely navy shift dress with pearls and diamante around a high neckline before dropping to a V on the back. I tried it on and the sales girl walked towards me grinning, saying, "I think you need the next size down!" So I tried on the smaller size and it was perfect. As I walked out of the changing room, Paloma Faith's version of  "Never Tear us Apart" came on- whilst we danced to the INXS version, it was Paul's and my first dance. It was like a little sun ray bursting out through the cloud. I felt a little happier and with the help of the wonderful girls at Monsoons and Accessorize found hair grips and a small bag. This is now my wedding outfit for the summer! WEDDINGS DONE!!!

I then got my phone back fully repaired and heard from my mum about picking Hattie up. On the way back, I met up with my mum and we drove back to my house to pick up her beast. As we drove back, over the road from my house there is a massive football field and with the strange weather all day, there was the biggest rainbow stretching up into the sky. Another beautiful happy sign!

This morning, the sun is high and bright. I reckon my Grandad sorted that one out like he did for my wedding!

Anyway, there's one more thing I need to do before I have my scan.

Dear Blob,

You haven't got the greatest name right now but the first time I saw you on the screen when you had been growing for 6weeks and 5 days in my tummy, you looked like nothing more than a blob. There's a bigger blob where your head is but generally a blob. I think I am also a little frightened to call you a baby because over the past almost 12 weeks, I've become quite attached to you (or rather you've become quite attached to me!) and it could make it even harder to let you go if the news isn't good on Tuesday.

When I saw you again at 9 weeks 1 day, your heart was still beating nice and strong. You'd also grown to look slightly less blob like (but yes, you still looked like a blob!) It was so frightening going to the scan but you behaved yourself for Daddy and showed him your incredible little flickering light where your heart was beating away. I'll let you into a secret- the ultrasound technician showed us where your arms and legs were growing but I couldn't make them out- I think I was too fixated on the fact your heart was still beating.

You've managed to do so much more already. You let Mummy meet the midwife and get her scary maternity notes pack.

I'm going to be calling in favours with every deity this week that you are still growing beautifully and are starting to look less like a blob and become more of a baby.

It'd be worth it. You have a wonderful Daddy- he's the most wonderful man. You'd be silly not to make it to nine months to come and meet him. He has a pretty good taste in music but first and foremost, he already adores you. He has been your cheerleader from the start, saying that you are our baby. The one that we will get to meet and watch grow up into- he thinks, a mini me! Yes, he thinks you're a girl. I'm a bit more focussed on getting you through the next few months rather than worrying about whether you're a boy or girl. Lots of other people think you're a girl too. Guess we'll see!

Anyway, I love you Blob. I love you loads. I promise to dial down the anxiety from Tuesday if you can just show me that you're doing ok, alright?

We both love you and thank you for making it this far.

Mummy xxx

How do you?

So you all know now that I am currently a chick incubator, hoping like mad that things are still working. The thing is, THIS IS REALLY HARD. I know, right now you want to punch me, you want to shake me by my shoulders and say, "You're frigging 9 weeks pregnant! That is something in itself to be grateful for! As far as you know, the baby still has a heartbeat!" This is where infertility and repeat pregnancy loss splits. Just before I got this positive, I was in a seriously weird place. A place where although I hated the big fat negatives, I also dreaded the positives. In fact, I dreaded the positives even more. As you can see in my previous post, my response to this positive wasn't exactly that of sheer joy and happiness. "OH SHIT" is not a normal response from someone who is desperate for a baby.

I guess it's the years (can't believe it has actually been years- just feels like a lot of numbness) of  positive pregnancy tests meaning nothing more than there is/was HCG in my body at the time of the test. The possibility of a baby was there but my genes screwed it up. I remember reading the information on what my possible pregnancies would come out as at 16 after my first meeting with the genetic counsellor:

• Ones where it would be unicorns shitting rainbows (read as my genes have not been passed on therefore no genetic wonkiness and no issues when they go to have babies).
• Wonkettes like me- a balanced translocation.
• Trisomies that could be born (babies with pretty bad disabilities and chances of early childhood death)
• Trisomies that couldn't be born (my miscarriages)
• Then the truly weird and wonderful where this is never born but there are still possibilities of creating a pregnancies. I want to call them Quadsomies as that would make sense!

The genetics is now what's keeping me awake at night. I rang the Fetal Medicine Centre yesterday to book in my Harmony test (this is a blood test that they're hoping will replace CVS and Amnio as it carries 0% chance of miscarriage). I gave the receptionist all my details and then asked the dreaded question... Will my wonky genes cause issues with the test. Guess what the answer was...! "I'm terribly sorry, Mrs Lawson, but due to your balanced translocation falling on one of the major trisomies that we test for, you will not be able to take the test as it is likely to come back with a failed result and therefore it would be better to start with something like CVS or Amnio."

FOR FUCK'S SAKE!!!!!!!!!

So I then rang Guys as I had a double reason to ring- to postpone my appointment and to ask them WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO NOW? They had said at the genetic counselling appointment when I was pregnant with number 4, that if I required genetic testing, that they would be happy to help so I asked and they are going to ring me back to offer some support. It was scary postponing my PGD appointment. After so much fear to book it, it is utterly terrifying to have to put a timer on it. Whether this pregnancy works or not, I will need a break before going forward with the treatment.

I have my booking appointment next week with the midwife and my dating scan on the 1st of July. Right now, they feel a million miles off even with the heartbeat that P and I saw on Thursday. I am still waiting for someone to pop up and say, "Hahaha! Only joking!" The genetic testing could be the next stumbling block. I realise that a lot of people probably think I'm being hugely ungrateful for being pregnant but being pregnant was never the issue.

Can I start to think about NCT classes? Can I start to look at maternity clothes? Should I be saving money for maternity leave? Actually, the real question is: do I dare? There is a slight palpable excitement in the air...

Hope is such a dangerous thing.

How soon is now?

Yes, I did it. One of the best songs to ever have a question title but I don't think it could have a more apt title. I was saving it for an epic post and whilst I don't think it is epic, it should be a good one.

The weekend before last, I got the appointment date and time from Guys in regards to the PGD. I mean, how damn quick did that come through? Super double fast quick time! I was a little take aback about the quick turn around time as I was enjoying the responsibility being out of my hands. It was a warm, sunny, happy place where there were bluebirds dancing around my shoulders. As soon as the envelope appeared, there was an intense feeling of holy fuck! We're really doing this!

Although like every good story, something may bugger things up.

I'm pregnant.

So the week before I went off to Canada, I was a little late so I did a test. It came back with a total and utter blank bit where the possible positive should have been. Not even an evaporation line. Shrugged my shouders- no biggie! I'm off to dance like a loon at my soul sister's wedding! It was meant to be my last hoorah before going clean for the PGD, so yes, I drank and I smoked. The actual day of the wedding, I felt a bit odd. My boobs felt like they would explode and I felt like I wanted to murder someone. I just put it down to feeling a bit PMSy and prayed that I wouldn't get my period for that bloody flight home.

Anyway, after the fun that was 72hours in Canada, my period still didn't arrive when I was back in England so on the Thursday, I did a test in the loos at school and literally as soon as I peed on it, BOOM! Pregnant.

Poor P then got a message saying- "OH SHIT" along with a picture of the test. He replied in typical P fashion with "Every man's dream- a text saying 'oh shit' with a picture of a positive pregnancy test!" We were both apprehensive. You can't not be after so many losses! P, however, scared me. He said that he really felt that this was it. This would be our baby. *CUE BIG FREAK OUT* People have said that to me before about previous pregnancies. How could he be so confident about something neither of us have any idea about?

I then waited a week and a bit to speak to my GP about going to EPU- I would be around 7 weeks then and if there was going to be a heartbeat, there would be one by then. My GP instantly said yes to me going for a scan but said she would hold off on signing me up for antenatal care until after the result of the scan. I waited til Friday and went with Kat who was utterly thrilled that she would see my insides...(bloody doctors!) I was so scared. Back where things had ended before. I was also having very few symptoms which made me feel like things were over. I mean, after 5 losses, things couldn't begin to go right naturally? I was ready for PGD not a natural pregnancy. The receptionist and nurses who sadly all knew me, were lovely as usual- all wishing this would be it for me. I was called through to speak to Jo (yes, I know her first name...), the nurse consultant and I thought it was just going to be another chat so I said to Kat that I'd be fine going by myself and yet it was the scan time- WHEN I NEEDED HER MOST! By the time the door closed, I was shaking too much to ask to have her come in with me so I had to brave it alone. Jo kept the screen towards herself until she was certain whilst I was trying to control the panic attack that was brewing.

There was a heartbeat.

I wept and had to keep wiping the tears away to be able to see what was being pointed out to me on the ultrasound. There was the tiny little pulsating light that was flickering away so strongly. Something I had never seen before. All those scans that yielded nothing but the dreaded week wait to see if there would be some more growth where of course, there would be none. There it was. That heartbeat that held so much hope.

I floated out of the EPU in shock. Kat was hugging me, utterly delighted. I rang Paul and the frst words out of my mouth were..."There was a heartbeat!" It was a little like how I felt on my wedding day- like I was in a bubble, floating around. Not quite in my own body! I rang my mum who was in tears. I rang my nan who giggled delightedly. It just didn't feel very real. A heartbeat? So much hope comes with a heartbeat. My mum only ever saw two heartbeats- mine and my brother's.

So I spoke to a couple of people at work to explain about my losses and the fact I might just need to do a runner if things went Pete Tong. They were great and really understanding. So, I then carried on as normal. Teaching, tutoring- all the normal shit whilst also wiping so much when I went to the loo that I was making myself sore! I even plucked up the courage to get some new bras and book my antenatal care.

Everything was fine until this week. On Monday, as I guessed, we got the OFSTED call! They came for the Tuesday and Wednesday. I was watched on the Tuesday twice and felt like I was home free from the buggers! To be honest, for the first time in my life, I think it was the first true time of not giving a flying fuck about the outcome. There were bigger things than how the school would do. Anyway, things were fine until early Wednesday morning. At 3am, I woke up and found that I was bleeding. More spotting than bleeding but you can imagine my fear. It was all over in my head. It was a mid brown blood so not the bright red, there were no bad pains which was going in baby's favour. I laid on the bed sobbing, trying to talk to my tummy. I think I told it to not be a dick and start messing around now! Apologies baby, I was terrified. Paul came to bed at around 4ish and I told him what happened. He of course told me to not panic and that I should just see how the day would unfold. Easier said than done!

I went to work as we still had OFSTED in but I spoke to my deputy head to explain that I might need to run ( I had PPA at 12 so I knew I could escape early if I needed). She disagreed and said she didn't want me in work and said she wanted me home and resting as soon as possible so she would book me a taxi back to South London- she also refused to listen to my protests that it wasn't much and I would only leave if things got worse. She said she would explain to the head without telling her but I felt like I had to be honest with her. I told her and the head said that she'd already worked it out! She also said that there were things bigger than OFSTED and this was one of them. So I went home and booked the GP in the back of the taxi. My taxi driver was wonderful. He was a Somali gentleman who chatted all the way back and said that when he visited the mosque that afternoon, he would pray for me and my unborn baby! Such a kind man who completely distracted me all the way back to Kidbrooke. When I got home, I flopped on the sofa with Max trying to put everything out of my mind. The Dr reckoned that it was left over blood from where the baby had implanted and that whilst it was nothing to worry about, that a trip to EPU would be a good idea.

So Paul took yesterday off (which turned out to be a great move as it was the first day of the England vs Sri Lanka cricket at Lords) and we got up early to hit EPU as soon as possible to get the feeling of death row out of our bodies. We arrived so early that we were the first to be seen. I spoke to Jo and explained what was going on- she had everything crossed that our worst nightmare wasn't about to come true again. We then went in for a scan in the same room that we found out our baby last year hadn't grown. The technician didn't say anything for about half a minute (oh and by the way, I got to progress from dildocam to abdominal!)- during which time both Paul and I were holding our breath. Then she turned to us and said, "There's baby's head, baby's back and legs. If you look here, you can see the heartbeat."

Paul and I just beamed at each other. He was right. Baby is still alive and kicking. When we went to have a chat with Jo, as soon as Paul shut the door, she gave me the biggest hug! Baby had also caught up in length to measuring 9weeks 1 day as of yesterday. To begin with it was a little short but seems to have caught up rapidly in the past 12 days.

So yes. Still pregnant. Not only pregnant but pregnant with a date for meeting the midwife next week and a baby with a heartbeat in my tummy. I also have a maternity bra that I dared to try on today. In a minute, I'm going to book my Harmony test with the Fetal Medicine Centre which will check for any weird trisomies without the risk of miscarriage unlike CVS or Amniocentesis.

SHIT IS GETTING REAL!