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Bec's Pregnancy After Loss Journal


Week 22
~ The Bad and the Ugly

A tricky week this one.

The whole seven days were shrouded in an unfortunate stinky blanket courtesy of some terrible news from Tracey's family - news too personal for me to go into here.

It sort of set the mood for the week, and trust me, it wasn't a good one.

We were both beyond exhausted and at that horrible point where you are too tired to sleep properly. Of course, it's the weight of crap on your mind keeping your eyes open at 2, 3 and 4am but surely the very bone-weary state of your body should be enough to tip you into unconsciousness for a few precious hours?

If it wasn't the crap on my mind, it was my bladder keeping me up at night.

I have now reached the point where I feel like I am about to burst if I do not get to a toilet, oh, about every two hours. When I get to the toilet, an amount measuring less than a teaspoon comes out.

It is truly the wee who cried wolf that has me pondering which idiot designed the female body?

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I have also begun to feel incredible tightness and weight in my belly.

It is now just uncomfortable for some periods during the day. And I know I am not the first pregnant woman in history to complain about being uncomfortable, but this was the first time I had felt it enough to notice it as being, well, rather annoying.

A trip to the midwife this morning went some way to explaining the tautness in the abdominal region.

My placenta is sitting at the back of my uterus, about two-thirds up. That is completely fine and normal, but it means I have no buffer (in the shape and size of a liver, apparently) between my belly skin and the baby's bumps.

Which would explain why it felt like I had either Rocky Balboa or Jackie Chan doing some quickfire boxing and/or sidekick training last night.

It is lovely to feel the movement though . . . and she better keep going. I need peace of mind.

The whole awful business we dealt with last week also got me thinking about being a mum. Well, another kind of mum. A mum to a child I will give birth to.

I wondered if that was any different to the mum I am now. Part of me thinks, of course it is - there is a genetic and physiological bond there, let alone a potentially deeper connection given the fact she started life in my belly.

But then part of me asks why it should be any different. I cannot imagine loving anyone more than Jay . . . but will I with our little girl?

I am also thinking a lot about how our family dynamic will change when she is born. I am worried about my relationship with Jay and scared it might be diluted as a result.

I can already picture his hurt little eyes when I am forced to feed, bathe or change our new baby first instead of playing monster trucks with him immediately.

I don't want to hurt him!

Will he understand how vulnerable and dependent a new baby is and how that means he will have to do more either by himself or with Tracey instead of me.

Trace had a great idea about me having special things or time with him - like a Jay date - regularly. Whether it's Thursday afternoon dominoes or painting or Sunday morning bike rides or garbage truck games, I promise to do that.

Otherwise all well in our world. And I already feel better this week.

Also at the midwife, incidentally, was news that I will need an anti-D injection at 28, 34 and birth so my own body does not reject the baby. Again, who the hell designed the female body??

I still don't understand A) how it can even happen that you can create something inside you that you are pre-programmed to biologically destroy and B) how the baby could have survived this far without being attacked by my own system already.

Weird. I also got a yoga video, that's right - video, for pregnant mums. Hopefully that will help a bit with my back pain. But that has eased a bit since I started sleeping with a pillow between my knees.

Plus the weather is turning and I reckon we will be swimming in the pool within the next week, so laps, here I come. Cannot wait. I need to investigate massage also, but I might save that up for the last six or so weeks.

~ Bec

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