Apologies – youtube seems to have posted the first video again by mistake, this is the one from this morning. I hope.
So I was supposed to go in for a checkup and histopathology reports on Friday, but I have this damn essay to do and I forgot. I rescheduled for today, and yup, I forgot again.
Tonight I had a phone call from the lovely woman in EPAC (Emergency Pregnancy Assessment Clinic). Apparently my histopathology was all fine, she checked that my symptoms were all within normal limits, and informed me of what to expect in the coming months, and what to do if it doesn’t happen (i.e., have a normal period).
Then she told me that there was no need to come in, saving me another trip to that dreadful place. I thanked her profusely, and asked her if she remembered me from 2010. She did, and she knew that Archimedes had died, even though I hadn’t told her – clearly the hospital grapevine is working. Of all the people I met during those months, hers is a face I remember as being always a positive, smiling and caring one. I took the opportunity to tell her what her work had meant to me all those months ago, and we both had a little cry.
I also told her about some of the awful stuff that happened, and she encouraged me to put it in writing to the hospital, in the hope that other women don’t have to suffer through the same crap. It must be an immensely difficult place to work, giving people bad news so often, I hope it gave her some joy to know that the bad news is better coming from someone who really does seem to care.
She could teach a few health professionals a thing or two 😉
I am ok.
It was horrible.
There was a huge gush of blood and I thought I was going to die. Nobody warned me about blood.
I didn’t die.
It took five hours of waiting before I had surgery.
Everyone was really nice.
The operating theatre looked exactly like the one where I had Archie and Aubrey.
The recovery bed where I woke up afterwards was EXACTLY the same as where I was after having the twins.
I lost it, and cried and cried and cried.
I felt much better after three doses of painkillers.
I got home at 8pm, and hugged my beautiful Inigo, thanked Andrew and my parents for looking after him, ate wonderful food prepared by Bonnie and Zenia, and went to sleep.
This morning Mark took Inigo out, and I thought I would start my essay (due monday week), but instead I enjoyed my day and did some reading.
Had a nice dinner and a glass of something tasty, and life is looking much more reasonable tonight.
Bob, thank you for changing the face of Australian politics. Thank you for being gracious and sweet when asked to hold a baby by a crazy woman. And enjoy a well deserved retirement – I look forward to more gorgeous photos of the Tarkine.
I have an essay due on the 23rd of April, and an exam on the 27th. So it occurred to me that the time to have this miscarriage is before then.
I made an appointment for next Thursday to have day surgery, at which point it will be about 7 weeks since the heart stopped beating, and three weeks after my bleeding stopped.
This morning I’ve had acupuncture to try to induce labour, and it that fails, I go in for surgery on Thursday.
Not what I wanted, but probably sensible if I want to not fail completely this semester.
Today, Mark and I have been married for 8 years. Not a lot for some, but before I met Mark, I think my longest relationship was bout 9 months. So I am pretty chuffed. In another 8 months or thereabout, we’ll be surpassing the median Australian marriage length, which is apparently 8.7 years.
Considering that I still love my husband very much, and am pretty confident that we’ll have that .7 of a year in the bag pretty shortly, I thought it might be nice to have a quick look back on our relationship. We’ve had more than our fair share of crap in those 8 years, and I can’t think of anyone I would rather have had by my side during those dark times.
Just shy of one year after that picture was taken, I fell over, and had a strange pressure sensation in my shoulder. It was a ruptured cervical disk, and although I was lucky to avoid surgery, I spent about 3 months in agony on the couch, unable to care for myself, work, or contribute in any way. Mark was my nurse, my carer, and sanity provider. It was about another 3 months before I was able to work full time, and I still have pain now – which is why I don’t knit as much as I used to.
The next year, 2006, was Mark’s first year of teaching. It didn’t agree with him, and it was my turn to provide a bit of support to him. At the end of the year, he felt that he just couldn’t keep teaching, so he made the decision to go back to IT. At the same time, I was working for my brother, and his business folded. It was a scary time, and we had just booked flights and accommodation to spend a month in Vietnam courtesy of my very generous parents. At Christmas time 2006, we were both unemployed, with nothing lined up except an overdue honeymoon. Before we left, we had to decide whether to pay an extra weeks rent for when we got back, or to buy tickets to see the Scissor Sisters. We chose disco. Of course.
January 2007 was spent having a wonderful time in Vietnam, and while we were there we spent a lot of time talking about our future together. I had always been against having kids, but the previous two years had convinced me that we were a pretty good team, and that Mark wouldn’t cave in at the first hurdle. We decided to stop trying not to have children.
On the 5th of February, the night of the Scissor Sisters concert, Inigo was conceived.
I had a rough pregnancy, and his birth was scary, then we had three months of struggle to get breastfeeding established. Once that was working, he was diagnosed with failure to thrive, and we had over a year of invasive medical testing, and other nightmares, including being assessed for parental abuse and neglect. Fun times.
Once Inigo had been healthy for about a year, we started to think about giving him a sibling. I can’t ever regret that decision, because we got to meet our beautiful Archimedes, even if it was for only a short time, and that we never met his brother Aubrey. But the past two years have gone beyond what anyone can be expected to bear with equanimity.
But through it all, Mark has been beside me.
I’m so glad you married me Mark, and I can’t believe how lucky I am that you did. I love you, and the little family that we have made together. And I am so proud that I can stand beside you for whatever the next eight years may bring.
I am so proud of this kid, I am in danger of blocking an airway.
Yesterday at his piano lesson, his teacher showed him how to play the first bit of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. At dinner that night, he played it twice for Grandma. Then first thing this morning, he wanted to play piano. I hadn’t had my coffee yet, so it took a moment for it to sink in that he had played it correctly. I grabbed the video and took this.
I was really, really hesitant about putting him in to piano lessons at such a tender age. But I think my last reservation just flew out the window.
Oh, and apparently, the singing that he does while playing? Two people have independently told me this week that he is on pitch, and will make a fine singer one day.
Now I am off to medicate so I can keep breathing through the cuteness.
No news from the land of reproductive disasters, but I am still here, still breathing, and still waiting.
I’ve come to the conclusion that PSY246 (Cognition) and I will be on much better terms next year than this, and that I am nowhere near prepared for an exam next week. So I have withdrawn from that subject. And if I don’t get a massive amount of work done between now and Sunday night, I may have to withdraw from my other subject as well. Thanks to my new friend Wendy for setting me straight about each lecture recording covering two sets of lecture notes – that was really doing my head in!
So it’s head down and bum up for the next couple of weeks if I want to see decent results. Time to put the wallowing on hold for just another little while.
And in Squishy news, he’s been super good at pre-school nap time, and doing his piano practice without too much complaint, and he filled up his massive sticker chart, so I caved to his request to get sparkly light up shoes. $70 sparkly light up shoes, but that is my issue, not his. He is exquisitely joyful to own a pair of such outrageously splendid shoes. And I love to see him happy!
Today’s conversation with my lovely doctor…
She: Have you had any bleeding?
Me: Yes, I’ve been bleeding for a week – but just bits here and there.
She: We’ll do a scan just to have a look.
Yes, I can see the sac is still there. Just a minute, and I will see if we can use medical management.
Me: What is medical management?
She: I’ll find out if we can do it first, then I will tell you about it.
She then disappears for half an hour, whilst I consult doctor google. Apparently, “medical management” means using RU486 to induce labour. I am not feeling keen.
She: Unfortunately we don’t yet have the protocols in place, so I can’t give you that.
Me: Never mind, I probably would have refused anyway.
She: So do you want to come back next week?
She: I just don’t want you to get lost in the system. (I am assuming that this means that I go without treatment, have a haemorrhage and die).
Me: You know I won’t mess about if something goes wrong. I have no interest in being a hero, and if there is a lot of blood, or my temp soars, I won’t hesitate to call an ambulance.
She: I am away at a conference next week anyway, how about in 2 weeks?
Me: Have a great time in New Zealand 🙂
My darling husband turned 40 last week, and today I am throwing him a party. Now please don’t be offended if you didn’t get an invitation – this is a party for special people. Very special.
The type of “special” that still loves to play Dungeons and Dragons into their 40’s.
We’ve moved Cocky into the living room so that the players can take over the kitchen. I’ve made a huge pot of soup, and bread, and am bringing in pizza and making sausage rolls and popcorn. Perfect for a boys own adventure for grown ups, while the kids and widows take over the living room and watch movies 🙂 In my fantasy version of this party, the weather was good so the kids could play outdoors, but we’ll muddle through.
Happy Birthday darling. I love you.