Today I am 15 weeks and 3 days. And as far as I know, our little gumby is going along fine. I back at home after another three days at mums, visits from old friends, my mum in law, neighbours, and even a one hour visit to my oldest friend’s birthday bash.
Somehow I’ve managed to not organise any visitors for today, and it’s a long day with hub in boots training until 9pm or so. Bit of an oversight. And it’s hot. I’ve already tried changing rooms to get more air , but it’s boiling in here. Sweaty. I’ve been spoilt at mums with air con on all day.
Physically, the spotting has settled right down, maybe four days ago it gradually ground to an almost halt. Its still there, but nothing like what it was. This has to be a good thing, right?
This coming Saturday is ‘BASTARD’ the clot’s deadline day. 16 weeks. The point at which we are opened up to a whole host of other complications if BASTARD is still there. Complications that the ob would not discuss, ahead of time. I guess that’s what we hear about, next visit, depending on my progress. I guess we have to steel ourselves for that.
I don’t want to get too hopeful, and let’s face it, we’re probably hoping for quiet gradual improvement, not miracle healing ( “ta daaaa! No clot!). I am hopeful because of what I can see happening on the outside. However we have no idea, right now, what’s happening inside. The two do not always coincide.
This week is also significant because we drop down to a single salary, or at least 1.25 salaries. My leave is starting to run out, so what I have left I’m having rationed out, until I can go in maternity leave at 28 weeks. I am nervous of how we will go forward, financially. But I can’t afford to give it too much thought. Naturally work managed to completely ignore my request and stuff up my pay, which sent me into a total flap on Friday night. Sometimes in the calm, going along ok, the flaps are only one mishap away.
In the knitting stakes, I’ve learnt to purl, but I’ve gone backwards a bit. I seem to be getting less capable at knitting overall. So I’m not looking at it this morning. It’s pissing me off!!!
Instead, I am, unbelievably, reading the Twilight series. And loving it! My niece suggested it as light reading, and while I was pretty damn sceptical it is actually well written. I couldn’t even make it through the first Harry potter a few years back, the writing was so bad. But this is pretty good. From Gabriel Garcia Marquez/ Jeffrey eugenides to Twilight with Stephanie Meyer eh?
I’ve also watched one and a half eps of Gossip Girl. Not bad, so far.
It was nice on the weekend at mums when hub-in-boots dropped in on his way home from AFL. We were genuinely glad to see each other . There’s been some moments lately where I’ve hung out all day for 6pm, my end point of keeping tabs on myself, and he’s arrived home, exhausted, looking for all the world like he doesn’t want to be there. It’s not easy to take, on days where he’s my only connection to outside these walls. I understand he has too much on, with work , afl, and then carer being like his third job. I get it. Its exhausting, physically, mentally, emotionally. But it isn’t easy at my end some days, either. I live with the warring anxiety & hope, 24/7. I have physical evidence of it. I am trapped. And sometimes that is so all consuming I can’t spare the energy to even think how it affects others… If I did, I’d just seize up. So it is good when the days at mums break that cycle, reset us, make us glad to be us & glad to be together again.
In one way, Saturday is just another day. In another, it’s a looming deadline, and instead of rushing around to get things done to meet it, I need to lay here. And have no control, and hope.
In the meantime, I get to leave the house Friday , for a glucose tolerance test. Mmm thick lemonade for breakfast. Some girls get all the fun.