tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-24615718122968239222024-03-06T10:23:26.750+11:00The 41 Baby ProjectI'm a 41yo (update - since turned 42) digital media & advertising exec (and ex recording artist) from Melbourne, Australia. After much searching and wondering if it would ever happen, I FINALLY met the right man. Then we got pregnant - baby is due April 2010. We have just discovered via ultrasound that our baby boy will require heart surgery post birth. This blog will record my journey...41BabyProjecthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18169209206119708279noreply@blogger.comBlogger16125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2461571812296823922.post-24527520404456618342010-11-04T11:32:00.006+11:002010-11-04T11:44:18.215+11:00Duane's what??<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So Baby Charles has Duane's Syndrome Type 1. </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Yes, that was my reaction. Duane's what? I said.<br /></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It is an eye condition, whereby one eye is restricted in its movement. Charles' right eye does not move to the right. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">You can read more about it here:</span></span></div><div><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duane%27s_syndrome"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duane%27s_syndrome</span></span></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">and see an animation of how it works here:</span></span></div><div><a href="http://www.mrcophth.com/eyeclipartchua/duanesyndrome.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">http://www.mrcophth.com/eyeclipartchua/duanesyndrome.html</span></span></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">(Charles is the top one - but he has it on the other eye)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">What can we do? I said. Nothing, said the very kind paediatric opthalmologist we saw. There is no cure.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Am still absorbing what this means. The opthalmologist says Charles will learn to compensate for it, by adjusting his head, positioning himself in the room so he can see best, and so on. He will learn to hide it, she says. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I am distressed at the idea that my child has something that cannot be cured. I go home and weep. How many more knocks can we take?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">But now I am simply determined not to let it affect Charles, or stop him from doing anything he wants to do.</span></span></div></div>41BabyProjecthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18169209206119708279noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2461571812296823922.post-38216288660932438722010-09-14T17:29:00.007+10:002010-11-04T11:23:01.130+11:00Today, a tooth - tomorrow, the world!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Baby Charles is now 6 months old. That's his real age. In terms of his developmental, or corrected, age, he's just under 5 months old. It's complicated trying to calculate and explain that, every time someone asks - such as the nurses at the local health centre, who need to know the specifics in order to work out whether he is meeting his developmental milestones.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Charles was very tiny when he first came home from hospital, after spending a month in the hospital's Special Care nursery, but he has caught up amazingly. He is now only very slightly smaller than the other babies in my local Mothers' Group, who are all of a similar age range. When Mothers' Group started he was WAY smaller.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He is a little behind in physical terms, which is to be expected given his small size, due (as I mentioned in earlier posts) to him being growth restricted for unknown reasons while in my womb (this is known as IUGR). He doesn't do tummy time quite as well as the other babies, although he is progressing. He's not rolling over yet - unless you count putting his legs in the air and kind of falling to the side. I don't see him crawling any time soon.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">However, he is a bright little chap and is generally meeting all his milestones. I am so proud of him. He had such a rough start but he has done so well.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">His heart condition, which scared me so much when it was discovered, has healed itself. Yes, really - healed itself! Isn't it amazing what the body can do? </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He had two tiny holes in his heart when born. One has now grown over and the other become so small that the cardiologist says it no longer matters. He still has a tiny heart murmur, but that too no longer matters, we're told - many people live long lives with similar conditions. Our cardiologist thinks it's likely the final hole and the murmur will have gone by the time Charles turns one. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">We were so relieved to hear this that we shed tears of joy in the car home, and then danced madly around the house all evening - Charles in our arms.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And now our baby's first tooth has peeked through his bottom gum. I was so excited! Today, a tooth - tomorrow, the world.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Our next major event - apart from solid food, which we will begin when he reaches 6 months corrected age (7 months real age) - is Charles' first hypospadias operation. This will be in three months time, and will not be easy. A second, more difficult operation will happen around March next year, when he'll be a year old. We have the best surgeon in Melbourne and we are confident. We have to be.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Once all that's over, Charles' rough start should be but a distant memory.</span></span></div>41BabyProjecthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18169209206119708279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2461571812296823922.post-37826337695453390452010-08-10T11:39:00.010+10:002010-11-04T11:23:37.690+11:00Baby comes home...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiosCeNt2IrY1itFLYLXFQwJR7nUNfaYuxy96mLdLDRXavVWLtsas27kh7RpTiXmmZlRQ-_xmlJCmoivpwq1S5SAJE-N9TQGsVsoI5VK-BX-mqRvzKcgODMOABRPr6tVc59-52MONenldb6/s1600/IMG_0290.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiosCeNt2IrY1itFLYLXFQwJR7nUNfaYuxy96mLdLDRXavVWLtsas27kh7RpTiXmmZlRQ-_xmlJCmoivpwq1S5SAJE-N9TQGsVsoI5VK-BX-mqRvzKcgODMOABRPr6tVc59-52MONenldb6/s320/IMG_0290.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503595514638043890" /></a><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">On 11th April, little Charles came home.</span></span></p><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He was very small. Even though he'd grown so much while in hospital, he was still only 2kg when he left (4.4 pounds). </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The nurses recommended we didn't take him out of the house for at least a month, until he'd reached a size more consistent with the average newborn. His immunity would be low, and his ability to keep warm lessened by his low body weight (it was almost winter and getting colder). So we were to stay indoors and keep visitors to a minimum.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">That was just fine by me. I just wanted to get to know my baby and also to rebuild myself after all the drama. Quiet time at home with my baby was what I wanted more than anything.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">We carried him carefully to the car, put him in his car seat and then, with me sitting next to him in the back, drove home. He barely moved.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">At home, we put him on our bed, in his sleeper, and just stared at him for hours. I took the above photograph.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And that first night, I barely slept a wink, and constantly watched over him. His cradle was next to my side of the bed - I couldn't even think of putting him in the nursery.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">We were lucky, in that he'd come home from hospital on a schedule. I just needed to follow it. He fed every 3.5 hours, pretty much by the clock. This made it easier for me, in that I could plan my day.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He slept and slept. He also threw up his milk, and did the usual things baby do. I floated about the house for some weeks, enjoying caring for him, delighting in my baby. He slept, and slept some more.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">We experienced no issues with his heart - something I'd feared, and which made me watch him closely. We were to go back to the cardiologist when he was three months old.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He was due to start seeing the hypospadias surgeon soon too, and I knew there would be surgery to plan and deal with.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">But for now, we just wanted to get to know him.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I was terribly emotional for some time - hormones all over the place. When he cried, I cried too. I hated to think of him being in pain, or upset in any way.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">But apart from that, I loved caring for him. I loved doing all the little things, like organising his clothes, doing his washing. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I really felt like a mother at last.</span></span></div>41BabyProjecthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18169209206119708279noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2461571812296823922.post-36030361776622915362010-05-25T20:24:00.006+10:002010-11-04T11:24:00.767+11:00Special Care<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It's late March 2010 and baby Charles is in an isolette (dubbed The Glass Box) in the hospital's Special Care Nursery, where premature babies are cared for.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">At 35 weeks, he is one of the oldest babies there. However, due to my inter-uterine growth restriction issue (see earlier blog), he is also the smallest baby there by far. He is breathing unassisted and is relatively well developed, but, at 1.4kg, he is SO tiny. Other babies there are much bigger in size than Charles, but as they were delivered at lower gestation ages, they have other problems such as undeveloped lungs.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Special Care is staffed by cheerful and welcoming women who care for the mothers almost as much as the babies. I spend my remaining time in hospital, while recovering from my caesarian, creeping into Special Care at all hours of the day and night, to sit by my baby.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Generally I sit there and cry.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He is too small to suck and so he is fed Nan formula via a tube through his nose. This causes problems with my milk production - despite the best efforts of lactation consultants, his prematurity and the lack of a sucking baby (plus, possibly, the medication I am on) means I don't manage to produce any milk for him. </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I weep still more, and feel like a complete failure.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I put my hand into the glass box and stroke his head. I talk to him - and he appears to react to my voice. I watch over him and the nurses watch over me.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He is treated for jaundice and wears tiny little sunglasses. Once each day he is brought out for a kangaroo cuddle, which involves him being put down inside my t-shirt. When he cries, he sounds so weak and tiny. I cry too. Constantly.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">But he is a fighter. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I leave hospital and commence the daily visits in to see him. I am so freaked out at first, upon returning to the real world, that I jump at loud noises. I continue to cry at the drop of a hat. Quite traumatised, I realise later.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">After about a week, I stop crying. After two weeks Charles starts to rapidly put on weight, and the nurses encourage him to suck a dummy, in preparation for life after the feeding tube.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Eventually he is fed for the first time from a tiny bottle. The look of astonishment on his face is priceless, and I laugh for the first time in weeks.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The weeks pass. As I continue my daily visits (I'm proud of the fact that I never missed a single day) he leaves the isolette and moves to a proper cot. He is fed more and more milk by bottle and eventually his tube comes out altogether. He puts on more and more weight.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The cardiologist scans him and is pleased with his heart - apparently he has two holes, but they are tiny and he is hopeful they'll both close over as baby grows. He is in no immediate danger. A small light appears at the end of the tunnel.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The peadiatrician is also very pleased with him. "He's punching above his weight", she continually tells me. Eventually, at 1.9kg, with his appetite increasing by the day, he is allowed to come home.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">My motherhood journey begins in earnest.</span></span></p>41BabyProjecthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18169209206119708279noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2461571812296823922.post-39981009773558692032010-03-30T22:44:00.010+11:002010-11-04T11:24:37.245+11:00the birth...<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So here's the story of my baby's birth. I haven't been able to write it until now, two weeks later, and I'm probably still processing it.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">We sat up all night - I in a birth bed in a birth room at my hospital, my partner in the fold-out chair beside me. Nurses took my blood pressure at regular intervals. Despite medication, it kept getting too high. My severe pre-eclampsia was not getting any better.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">In the morning at 8am, my obstetrician came and reviewed the results. "Look," she said, taking my hand. "We have to deliver this baby now".</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The c-section was scheduled for 11.30am. I was panicked and terrified. The anaesthetist came to see me and I told him to give me something to relax me. Perhaps a mistake, in hindsight - but I was truly frightened. I knew baby would be very small, because we'd been monitoring his growth and he was well behind what he should be. I also knew about his health issues (see earlier blogs). I didn't know what state he'd be in and I didn't know how I'd handle things.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The caesarian, though, was fairly quick and routine. I don't remember feeling anything. I was there, they numbed me, they did their stuff, then I heard the baby cry - thin little cries. A wrapped baby in a blue hat was put in front of me to see, then he was whisked away. People took photos. My partner looked startled and a bit like a deer in the headlights. I was just kind of lying there.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I don't remember what else happened that afternoon. I think I may have been taken to see the baby, who was in the special care nursery in an insolette, but I don't really remember. My partner and my mother tell me I said all sorts of silly things and then slept. I was drugged out of my mind, I guess.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I do remember forgetting at one point that I'd had the baby.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The next morning I was shaky and couldn't get my brain into gear. I remember someone asked me to sign something and I couldn't use the pen. I was taken again to see the baby and this time I remember more - I was frightened by how small he was. But my head was thumping and I couldn't stay long.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It wasn't until that evening that I got myself together and started visiting the nursery and asking questions about my little Charles Alexander Peregrine.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I remember while I was there one of the nurses said "Oh, your poor feet", and I looked down and became aware, for the first time, that my legs and feet were swollen to about three times their normal size - the joys of post-birth oedema. This would make it difficult for me to get about the hospital for the remainder of my stay.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I cried and cried, at the drop of a hat, for days afterwards. With hormones, and with emotion at becoming a mother, with distress at how small my baby was and how I felt I'd failed him at the last hurdle, with love for my baby. Often all three emotions at once. Sometimes I was a tiny bit upset when I saw other mothers in the hospital enjoying their healthy happy newborns, whilst mine was in his isolette being fed through a tube.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And that was my birth experience. </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><br /></p>41BabyProjecthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18169209206119708279noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2461571812296823922.post-55127826421493687912010-03-28T17:02:00.004+11:002010-11-04T11:25:03.698+11:00I went for a routine obstetrician appointment and ended up in hospital...<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">At 34 weeks I went for a routine obstetrician appointment.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">My ob is a fairly calm person. Throughout my difficult pregnancy (baby's growth issues, problems with the heart, hypospadias) she has managed everything with aplomb. </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Now, she took my blood pressure, which throughout my pregnancy had been consistently low, and reacted with mild shock. "What the..."</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">We took a break and went to look at the baby on the ultrasound machine. She checked my fluid levels and blood cord flow. I rested in the waiting room and had some water. Then we went back to check my blood pressure again.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Still extremely high.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">My obstetrician thought for a bit. She then explained that I should go over the road to the hospital to have things checked further, and for monitoring.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I went as requested, phoning partner and mother to explain where I was and stopping to grab a magazine from the local newsagency. I was shown into a room. I didn't get changed and get into bed, as I figured I'd probably be there for an hour or two, maximum.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I didn't go home for two weeks. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Urine tests and blood pressure monitoring over the next week proved I was very ill with pre-eclampsia. My face and legs became swollen. My blood pressure shot up dangerously high, and drugs continually failed to keep it down adequately.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The only cure for pre-eclampsia is delivery of baby.</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><br /></p>41BabyProjecthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18169209206119708279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2461571812296823922.post-43737551450177019312010-03-03T17:02:00.004+11:002010-11-04T11:25:36.945+11:00Maternal - me?<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I've never been considered the maternal type. </span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">This perhaps goes back to my kindergarten days. My mother tells the story of when I was chosen to be Mary in the kinder nativity play. I had to come in with Joseph holding the baby Jesus (a doll) and place him in the manger. Apparently I shoved him in roughly, so that his legs stuck up and he looked very awkward. One of the other mothers commented drily, "Well, she's not very maternal, is she?"</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I was never interested in dolls. I liked to climb trees. Ride bikes. Go to Little Athletics. Read books. Play with my chemistry set. I thought dolls were silly, and couldn't see any value in pushing one around in a pram, or trying to feed it. I remember in the 70s (when I was a child) a doll called Baby Alive came out - you could feed it and it even wet its pants. All the girls I knew simply HAD to have one. I secretly thought it was rather disgusting. I mean, changing a doll's nappy? Eeeeww.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">When my sisters had children in their twenties, I reacted rather as Samantha in 'Sex and the City' did, when Charlotte announced she was trying to get pregnant. "Why?" I asked, genuinely baffled. I was working hard on my music career, travelling, having fun, living life. There was no way I wanted to have children then. No way.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And now I'm 42 and about to give birth to my boy. I worry all the time about how I'll manage, how good a mother I'll be. Have I learned the lessons of life to make me patient enough, giving enough, kind enough? Will I know what to do for my child? Will I be there when he needs me? Will I have what it takes?</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Time and experience will tell, I guess - and I certainly have those on my side!</span></span></p><p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><br /></p>41BabyProjecthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18169209206119708279noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2461571812296823922.post-56606329077270255932010-03-03T17:01:00.002+11:002010-11-04T11:26:00.311+11:00"Heartening" news...<p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">We have had some "heartening" news. Baby has been scanned again by the cardiologist, and, whilst he still has a clear hole in his heart, the situation does not seem as bad as first feared. </span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There are no secondary problems with the arteries etc, the cardiologist does not believe he has the dreaded Tetralogy of Fallot, and believes it is even possible his hole may close or heal on its own. Some minor narrowing of the left valve, but not severe enough to warrant further concern.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Baby may still need surgery, so he will require careful monitoring, with some days in the NICU once he is born. But all going well he should be able to come home with us, and then will simply require regular monitoring by a cardiologist as he grows.</span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana; min-height: 15.0px"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px Verdana"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">We both felt much lighter yesterday :-)</span></span></p>41BabyProjecthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18169209206119708279noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2461571812296823922.post-26829181904024845472010-02-14T16:13:00.007+11:002010-11-04T11:26:33.553+11:00Being pregnant - the real story...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I know pregnancy is a joy and all. And at my age, I'm extremely lucky. But when I hear mothers saying how wonderful they felt when pregnant and so on, I can't help thinking that only half the story is being told.<br /><br />I DO think of pregnancy as a miracle, and feel thankful every day.<br /><br />But I have also found it somewhat uncomfortable and burdensome - and extremely stressful.<br /><br />Here's what happened during my pregnancy:<br /></span></span><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">At six weeks I had an ultasound by a junior radiologist, who told me he thought the foetus was positioned incorrectly, too close to my fallopian tubes, and that it may be ectopic. I had to wait five agonising days before we found out this wasn't the case.</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I was sick - horrible, retching, incapacitating sick - for more than 4 months.</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I struggled and struggled with work. I was on a consulting job I was contracted through my company to deliver, and there was no escape.</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I experienced spotting and bleeding during the first three months. One large bleed had me racing to the obstetrician, convinced I was miscarrying.</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I opted to have a CVS at 12 weeks, due to my age. This turned out to be somewhat lengthy and traumatic, as my doctor had difficulty getting a sample from my placenta. I discovered I was having a boy and that his chromosomes were all in the right place.</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">At 18 weeks I was still occasionally throwing up, and struggling with work.</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">At 20 weeks we discovered baby was not growing as he should be - </span></span><a href="http://41babyproject.blogspot.com/2010/01/small.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">see this earlier post</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">.</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">At 24 weeks we discovered baby had a hole in his heart - </span></span><a href="http://41babyproject.blogspot.com/2010/01/im-having-my-usual-fortnightly-scan.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">see this earlier post</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">.</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">My nose is constantly blocked and I get HEAPS of nosebleeds. It's incredibly debilitating.</span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And now, at 31 weeks? I'm enduring the usual uncomfortable nights, gastric reflux, tiredness and backaches. Not to mention being scanned weekly, having to be assessed by a cardiologist and being constantly warned that baby may have to be delivered earlier than planned. And I'm fearful about the surgery and stress that awaits my little boy once he is born.</span></span></li></ul><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So yes, pregnancy is a miracle and I feel blessed. </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">But is it an enjoyable experience? I'm not 100% sure about that one...</span></span></div><div> </div>41BabyProjecthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18169209206119708279noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2461571812296823922.post-80549432311855723272010-02-06T18:51:00.005+11:002010-11-04T11:27:03.943+11:00Onwards and outwards...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Ah, the joys of pregnancy. <br /><br />I'm getting increasingly large and clumsy. My back aches constantly and I have a burning pain right below my right breast - I'm told it's a combination of the baby pressing up against me and a uterine fibroid that I unfortunately have in that area. I get up about three times a night to pee, and find it hard to get comfortable in bed, despite the aid of pillows and cushions. My poor partner has been banished temporarily to the other bedroom, as I find I need to sleep diagonally across the bed with my legs out in an L-shape in order to get any measure of pain relief.<br /><br />My social life is cactus. I was invited to an opening night on Friday and had to decline at the last minute, due to simply being unable to leave the sofa. I now generally communicate with friends by email and facebook. My wardrobe has been confined to long t-shirts and cardigans, with a couple of plain maternity dresses for variety - they're all styles I'd turn my nose up at normally. Being short, I'm usually a high-heel queen, but these days I find myself only able to wear a single pair of low-heeled sandals with thick soles, circa 2001. Bor - ring.<br /><br />And my arse? Don't get me started....<br /><br />On the plus side, I feel like I am starting to really commune with my baby. I talk to him sometimes and I know he hears me, as he responds with thumps. I am recognising the patterns in his waking and sleeping (you guessed it - he wakes when I am sleeping). And I am really feeling him within me as a person, rather than as a thing, if that makes any sense.<br /><br />So now I have eight weeks to go. Onwards (and outwards).</span></span>41BabyProjecthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18169209206119708279noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2461571812296823922.post-8807177399274071122010-01-30T12:31:00.004+11:002010-11-04T11:27:38.434+11:00Cardiologist's Report<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Here are some extracts from the cardiologist's report. Am reproducing here as I know many people who have been in similar situations, and who know more about this than I do, have expressed interest.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-style:italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Foetal echocardiography gave quite good views of the heart. There does appear to be a moderate perimbraneous ventricular septal defect with some outlet septal malalignment producing mild aortic override. This defect appears single. The atrioventricular valves are normally off-set both measuring about 6 to 7mm with normal flow patterns although trivial tricuspid incompetence is present. The aorta arising from predominantly left ventricle measures about 6mm with normal appearing aortic valve. The aortic arch is good size without obvious obstruction. The pulmonary artery can be seen arising from the right ventricle with mild pulmonary valve stenosis, and a pulmonary artery measuring from about 5mm. The branch pulmonary arteries appear normal. I could not be confident about the presence or absence of the duct. Venous return to the atria appears normal.<br /><br />Thus there appears to be a perimembraneous malaligned ventricular septal defect with some pulmonary stenosis present. This is relatively mild at this moment with good size pulmonary arteries. The foetal cardiac abnormality is unlikely to cause any sign of foetal cardiac compromise. Ventricular septal defects may decrease in size but also pulmonary stenosis may increase during the pregnancy and in the postnatal period.<br /><br />At birth the cardiac abnormalities may cause symptoms or signs dependent upon the size of the ventricular septal defect and the severity of pulmonary stenosis. If there is little pulmonary stenosis then a moderate ventricular septal defect may produce signs of a significant left to right ventricular shunt. However if there is moderate or more extensive pulmonary stenosis, then the infant is likely to be well but will develop some signs of right to left shunting with time.</span></span></span>41BabyProjecthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18169209206119708279noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2461571812296823922.post-82979543916997458882010-01-29T18:56:00.006+11:002010-11-04T11:28:02.079+11:00"I believe there's a problem..."<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I'm having my usual fortnightly scan (because baby is small - see previous post). I'm at 26 weeks now. I'm here alone - as we thought this scan would be routine, my partner is at work.<br /><br />Cheerily I ask how much baby boy has grown this past fortnight.<br /><br />The radiologist is frowning and looking closely at the screen. He focuses in on the heart and looks again.<br /><br />I lie there and try to keep still. The radiologist enlarges and enlarges, until baby's teeny little heart is maximised across the screen. I see the four chambers of the heart pulsing. From my recollections of school biology classes, it looks like a normal heart. Doesn't it?<br /><br />The radiologist has switched on the colour part of the ultrasound, which shows blood movement and so on, and I can now see colours moving across the heart.<br /><br />Finally the radiologist turns to me.<br /><br />"I believe there is a problem with baby's heart", he says.<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-style:italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">OK, keep calm. </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /><br />"He appears to have a hole in his heart. I'll do you a drawing so I can explain better."<br /><br /></span></span><span style="font-style:italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Stay, stay calm. Make sure you take it all in and ask the right questions.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /><br />He tells me baby has a medium sized hole between the two lower chambers, and shows me on a drawing, but tells me that he will have to bring in a cardiologist for a specialist opinion.<br /><br />If confirmed, baby will require heart surgery at some point after his birth.<br /><br />He also tells me that baby appears to have a condition called Hypospadias, whereby the penis and urethra haven't formed properly and the penis opening is in the wrong position.<br /><br />This will also require surgery after birth.<br /><br />I am still trying to be calm, but now I just start sobbing, and have to be taken out to a quiet room to calm down by a clearly upset radiologist, who didn't want to have to tell me this and feels for me.<br /><br />I'm devastated. My baby, who was so much wanted and so long waited for, is too small, has a heart problem, has a penis problem. What else is coming? My poor little one - what will his first months be like? <br /><br />And as his mother, what did I do wrong?</span></span>41BabyProjecthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18169209206119708279noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2461571812296823922.post-90581419890330731902010-01-21T17:06:00.003+11:002010-11-04T11:28:23.550+11:00Small...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Baby is small.<br /><br />Hmmm, says the radiologist at 20 weeks. He's smaller than he should be at this stage. A couple of weeks behind in his growth. We'll have to monitor him.<br /><br />Hmmm, says my obstetrician (a good woman about my age, who has two children of her own). He's a bit smaller than he should be. We'll have to monitor him.<br /><br />Oh come on, I say. Surely babies come in all sizes? I myself am not a very big woman. What's the big deal about being... small?<br /><br />Apparently a baby that's smaller than usual could have other problems. Sometimes babies fail to thrive in the womb and have to be delivered early. Sometimes smallness is a sign that the placenta isn't functioning as it should.<br /><br />Small can mean many things.<br /><br />So every fortnight now, off I trot to the radiologists to be scanned, so that the baby's growth can be monitored.</span></span>41BabyProjecthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18169209206119708279noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2461571812296823922.post-32828545548014065682010-01-21T14:22:00.006+11:002010-11-04T11:28:46.203+11:00Sick, sick and more sick...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Some of you may think I’m a fusspot or that I have a low pain threshold (untrue - due to having a bad back for much of my life, my pain threshold is rather high), but I had no idea such nausea was humanly possible. For four months I threw up, felt absolutely dreadful, had the energy levels of a limp lettuce and was a misery to be around. <br /><br />To add to the mix, I had a high-pressure consulting job on at that time. Imagine a meeting room, an intense meeting, and me with my hand over my mouth running to the loos. Imagine me with my face an ashen shade of grey, trying to present something or run a training session. Think of me lying on the sofa all weekend trying not to move for fear I’d spew some more. Picture my partner anxiously trying to feed me something nutritious, only for me to bring it all up again.<br /><br />What the hell was I doing getting pregnant? This is HIDEOUS. <br /><br />Lesson 1, I tell myself – don’t work during the first months of your pregnancy. If you must work, do it later, during the second trimester.<br /><br />Desperate, I plead for help from my obstetrician, who puts me on Maxolon. It’s totally safe for pregnant women, I'm told. I don’t want to take it – indeed, I haven’t taken so much as a single drug, sip of alcohol or coffee or even a painkiller since finding out I was pregnant. But I have to do something, as I am simply unable to function as a human being. <br /><br />So I pop a Maxolon most days from about 9 weeks until 15 weeks.<br /><br />Eventually the sickness begins to ease. However I am still prone to the occasional spew. To my distress, I sometimes wet myself whilst doing this. I truly am at my lowest point.<br /><br />Lesson 2, I tell myself - if you feel even slightly ill, empty your bladder IMMEDIATELY.<br /><br />By about 18 weeks the sickness has eased and my energy levels are returning. <br /><br />Thank God. Now for the next phase.</span></span>41BabyProjecthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18169209206119708279noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2461571812296823922.post-43757887966741901702010-01-21T14:12:00.003+11:002010-11-04T11:31:05.637+11:00Getting pregnant...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So we’re going to try to get pregnant. Big breath. OK, now what do I have to do first?<br /><br />Take the right vitamins? Check.<br /><br />Work out the right time in my cycle? Check.<br /><br />Are we ready for this? Check.<br /><br />Are we </span></span><span style="font-style:italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">really</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> sure we’re going to do this? Check. Well, as sure as one can be when embarking upon such a life changing event, I guess.<br /><br />OK, let’s do it.<br /><br />Newspapers are full of articles warning how difficult it is to become pregnant after 40. </span></span><span style="font-style:italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Chart your menstrual cycle very carefully. Be aware that it will probably take longer. If it doesn’t happen after six months, get thee to an IVF clinic pronto. </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> And so on.<br /><br />So we bonk our brains out during our first month of trying - July 2009 - thinking to ourselves that maybe, if we are lucky, we might be pregnant by the end of the year.<br /><br />And lo and behold, by early August I realise we’ve done it. Already. It really was that easy.<br /><br />Big breath now...</span></span>41BabyProjecthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18169209206119708279noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2461571812296823922.post-70763360890776510002010-01-21T14:06:00.008+11:002010-11-04T11:32:28.252+11:00Something's missing...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">You're in your thirties and you live a pretty glamorous and fortunate life, all things considered. You're living in a cool bohemian suburb and your days are filled with parties, social events, dates with suave men and so forth. You've worked hard to get here, building up your career, working in the media and having had an earlier music career. You run celebrity charity events, go to openings and premieres and have an address book to die for.<br /><br />But something's missing.<br /><br />You go home at night to your funky apartment, which was once featured in a magazine, and you're lonely. There are times when you feel tired, vulnerable, ill, and you have no one to share it with. No one to bitch and moan to. No one who cares.<br /><br />Meanwhile, time marches on, you head towards your late thirties. You start relationships. You have high hopes for them. They end.<br /><br />The media, most unhelpfully, is full of articles about body clocks, women who have left it too late to have a family, women who have put their careers before fertility.<br /><br />Bullshit, you think. Simplistic rubbish. It's not the women's fault here. All around you are clever, together, happy single women with so much to give. Most of them would give their right arm to find someone to love and settle down with.<br /><br />And all around you are men who refuse to settle, refuse to put the work into relationships that's required to build and grow them. After all, they can. They can afford to wait until, say, their late forties, before settling down. They can afford to dream of that young, blonde trophy girlfriend who gives them undemanding sex minus the ticking body clock. They can afford to play the field, have fun, sleep around, enjoy themselves.<br /><br /><br />Bitter? Perhaps a little. But this is where I was at in 2008. I'd turned forty - my most depressing birthday ever, during which I found it very difficult to actually say the "f" word. No big fortieth bash for me, as I tried to forget it was even happening. I felt I'd somehow failed.<br /><br />And I'd started to resign myself to a life of being alone.</span></span>41BabyProjecthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18169209206119708279noreply@blogger.com0