not a dalmation

I quite like spots. I have a really nice black jacket with spots. It’s my favourite suit coat. And a black skirt with red spots (that hub in boots ruined by washing it’s dry clean only ass in a normal cycle). Spots are good. They may even be in this season. I like spotty dogs. I like spotty ish horses.

Spot, the noun, fine. Spotting, the verb, when pregnant, not so good.

It will probably be a while until I actually post this one, perhaps when  I know a likely outcome, because I don’t want to freak people out all over Sydney unnecessarily. And one of the mums might chuck a stroke. We don’t need that. But this morning (monday 9th) when I got out of bed and went to the loo, there was a lot of swearing involved. Mostly “SHIT.  Oh NO. SHIT SHIT SHIT”. Getting louder. At the risk of too much info (tmi), very light brown spotting, not much., enough to freak me the FUCK out. Hub in boots was calmly lying in bed until I said the S word (spotting), and then he joined in by running around the house from room to room trying to figure out what to do. I was wailing like a two year old in a supermarket “But I DON’T WANT a miscarriage!”. As if anyone does.

Of course now he’s reverted to “everything will be fine” mode, which is good, as his optimism and the two cups of tea (crazy town), and a big chat to my pragmatic big sister are calming me down.

We’re up the hunter at present, at my bro’s farm, kicking back on holidays. Supposedly.

We’re in the middle of nowhere. Only two hours away from home though.

We had a lovely day yesterday, and saturday arvo, reading books, listening to music, going for walks down the road saying hello to other people’s cows, stomping around the paddocks (as the grass is bloody long and it’s snake season), watching the turtles float in the creek, spotting the finches flitting in the trees, listening to the kookaburras.

Grover kicking back on the verandah with a Stella and chips

I’ve been tired, flaking out for several hours some days, but ok. I still haven’t got sick, which did concern me a little. Do I have enough HcG hormone? We’ve had nice meals, I haven’t drunk booze, we exercise. I may have eaten twisties, but I didn’t realise they could make you miscarry. (they can’t. I’m just being an idiot). We’ve read books, watched some not great dvds on the big projector screen. (You’ve got to love a kitted out brother). There’s no tele here, but there’s net, there’s paddocks and a creek, there’s a tiny town within walking distance, there’s lots to do. It’s the town we got married in, two years ago this March.

I hit 8 weeks pregnant on Saturday. I went to boxercise, took it pretty easy during class (no red faces or sweatiness), sat out some sets, took it easy on the little runs, hung out for breakfast, did a bit of housework, then we headed up the farm. I’ve slept solidly most nights. I had one funny evening last week (Wednesday or Thursday?) when I came home thinking if i didn’t lie down I’d die. And I slept for three hours with some shift in the cramping (less around my abdomen, the pain moved lower and perhaps a tad sharper, but not enough to make me take panadol or use a heatpack). I got up,  ate tea, (or maybe gagged at the smell of red meat and carrots and didn’t eat tea) but I was fine. I had another horrid feeling afternoon on Friday, but by the time I got home from late lunch with the mums and sat a bit, I was pretty good.

But this morning , something in the world has shifted, and everything is falling down a bit. Now, there may not be a due date, or a heartbeat, or a baby. I cried a bit at first, but I’ve settled down now. It’s scary. You get used to the idea, pretty quickly, being pregnant becomes part of your reality. And the thought of walking around with a dead embryo inside me is just wrong, and all I want is an answer. Yes / no. Still hope? Or give up? The patience required for this whole thing is astonishing.

I rang the clinic, and because it’s a scant brown discharge (that’d be tmi again) they’re not worried. She said at this stage it can just be the placenta forming and disrupting some blood vessels in the process, leaving a bit of old blood. I know in the brochures they gave us about early pregnancy 55% of women having IVF have some spotting, and most go on to have healthy pregnancies. They don’t know yet why the spotting is higher with ivf patients.  We were all ready to get on the road and head back to sydney for an ultrasound, but even a heartbeat is no guarantee that something isn’t already afoot I guess. The ivf clinic didn’t want a scan. So it’s sit back n wait.

It’s a week until we meet with the obstetrician. I may ring them later for a second opinion, as there are midwives in the clinic I can speak to. Just called them and spoke to the midwife, she was very reassuring, said I can come in tomorrow if anything worsens. Reminded me of 50% more blood flow in pregnancy which can lead to easier bleeding, esp cervix related. Said it may be just a sign everything is progressing well.

As I said to my sister on the phone, if gumby’s going to have something seriously wrong, I’d rather we just miscarry than us need to take any drastic decisions to terminate a pregnancy after a series of worrying tests. It is definitely the better route, nature making the decision, not us and a doctor. I also understand that there is nothing anyone can do to prevent it, or stop it, or “cure” it once a miscarriage is underway. But it is hard to think of the stopping of a little heartbeat that you’ve seen with your own eyes as anything other than bad, even when you know it is usually nature’s way of dealing with genetic faults and problems. It’s funny to think that, regardless of what churches say,  you don’t really know when life starts, nor do you, sometimes, know when it has ended. I understand it may already be over.

I am trying to be zen, just to understand where we are at, acknowledge the feelings, and worries, and several possible scenarios, and what ifs kicking around in my head. I am trying to stay calm and keep busy. We’ve just jump started the ride on mower and hub in boots is out now slashing paddocks, so we’ve achieved something today other than wailing and swearing.

the true source of crop circles revealed

I’ve drunk two cups of tea and eaten a bowl of cereal, and managed to put on a dress. I am trying not to think about the time we’ve “lost” if we have to go to ivf again, about how a due date may never come, or how it would be months and months later. I am going to sit down and read a book (the Help, haven’t started it yet), and maybe write some more on my post, and probably waste a few hours of my life googling “spotting in early pregnancy” to see the community of like minded hysterical people out there and try and develop a logarithm for the likelihood of miscarriage using only completely unreliable internet hearsay. Yes. Perhaps I’ll just stick with the book and a few games of “Words with Friends”. My niece just posted this song onto facebook. Talk about appropriate. I know it sums up some people’s 2011. It’s the Mountain Goats “This year”. Reminds me of something old school like Neil Young or Lou Reed. It’s a good “keep going” song.

In the meantime the sound of the ride on lawn mower humming in the distance is soothing, and I’m going to try and sit on the verandah and read, and be calm about it all.


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