The 12 week scan came and went. As my morning sickness mellowed, I returned to work after 5-6 weeks off. I felt happy. I allowed myself to get excited. I allowed myself to start planing for our new arrival; for our future.
The 16 week appointment with the midwife came and I was starting to struggle with my pelvis. I couldn't walk any real distance and I started to have to adjust how I was working. As a community nurse I counted that on some days I got either in or out of the car up to 40 times. This wasn't the best thing for a pregnant pelvis and I soon ended up with crutches as a back up.
Ian and I had decided to book a short break to Granada before the baby arrived; our last holiday with just us two. It was a bit naive really, booking a city break. In hindsight lying on the beach for 4 days would have been far more appealing! On the way to the airport we stopped in Manchester and ordered a pram and a carseat, it was perfect. I pretty much wished this holiday away because I knew that when we arrived home on the Monday, the day after was our 20 week scan and we would get to find out if our little one was a boy or a girl. I was so excited. I was so naive.
20 week scan day came, Tuesday 24th April 2018 and I woke to a message from my best friend willing me to tell her the news when I found out. I told her then that actually I was a bit nervous because overnight it had dawned on me that this was the scan where they tell you if anything is wrong. The anatomy scan, or as it is otherwise rightly called, the anomaly scan. She told me she had never thought of it like that. I got up early and headed out to the shops to buy ingredients to bake a cake. I planned on taking it round to my in-laws' later that night to reveal the baby's gender. Much to Ian's dismay I could only find pink food colouring so I think at this point my mind was made up. I baked my cake and we left for the scan, brimming with naive excitement
I lay there on the bed, my heart thumping. The sonographer asked if we wanted to find out the sex, Ian and I both looked at each other and nodded. Within seconds of having the cold gel on my tummy she asked if I had felt my waters break or felt any fluid leaking. I hadn't. She explained to me that there was barely any fluid around the baby. I felt sick. Feelings of absolute dread and anguish washed over me. She then said that she couldn't make out all of the organs due to the low fluid so I was asked to go and sit back in the waiting room and allow my bladder to fill up. I sat there wishing and praying that everything was okay. We were called back in and she soon found the kidneys and bladder that she had been looking for. They were all fine. I started to relax a little and even managed to give Ian a little smile. She continued to move the scanner around my tummy, reading out numbers to her colleague regularly. She then fell silent for an uncomfortable period as she pushed the scan probe harder into my tummy to get a better view. She hadn't told me the sex. She put her probe down and I knew it was bad news. "There's something there but I don't know what it is, I've never seen it before and I can't tell if its attached to the placenta or the baby". We didn't know what was wrong, we just knew it wasn't good. We were then directed into a different room, one with comfy seats and a coffee machine and it dawned on me that we were in the "bad news room".
From this point we were treated differently, staff spoke to us more softly, apologised for our wait and offered us cups of tea. After what felt like a lifetime of waiting we were called into see a consultant who again could shine no light on the situation and tried to reassure us that it could be nothing. We were referred to Professor Robson, a fetal medicine expert at the RVI in Newcastle and our first appointment with him would be Friday.
I barely remember walking back to the car that day. We were numb, our world had begun to shatter. I got home to my half finished cake waiting for it's pink or blue icing and sobbed.
Looking back now, this day was the beginning of the end for our precious baby.
The 16 week appointment with the midwife came and I was starting to struggle with my pelvis. I couldn't walk any real distance and I started to have to adjust how I was working. As a community nurse I counted that on some days I got either in or out of the car up to 40 times. This wasn't the best thing for a pregnant pelvis and I soon ended up with crutches as a back up.
Ian and I had decided to book a short break to Granada before the baby arrived; our last holiday with just us two. It was a bit naive really, booking a city break. In hindsight lying on the beach for 4 days would have been far more appealing! On the way to the airport we stopped in Manchester and ordered a pram and a carseat, it was perfect. I pretty much wished this holiday away because I knew that when we arrived home on the Monday, the day after was our 20 week scan and we would get to find out if our little one was a boy or a girl. I was so excited. I was so naive.
20 week scan day came, Tuesday 24th April 2018 and I woke to a message from my best friend willing me to tell her the news when I found out. I told her then that actually I was a bit nervous because overnight it had dawned on me that this was the scan where they tell you if anything is wrong. The anatomy scan, or as it is otherwise rightly called, the anomaly scan. She told me she had never thought of it like that. I got up early and headed out to the shops to buy ingredients to bake a cake. I planned on taking it round to my in-laws' later that night to reveal the baby's gender. Much to Ian's dismay I could only find pink food colouring so I think at this point my mind was made up. I baked my cake and we left for the scan, brimming with naive excitement
I lay there on the bed, my heart thumping. The sonographer asked if we wanted to find out the sex, Ian and I both looked at each other and nodded. Within seconds of having the cold gel on my tummy she asked if I had felt my waters break or felt any fluid leaking. I hadn't. She explained to me that there was barely any fluid around the baby. I felt sick. Feelings of absolute dread and anguish washed over me. She then said that she couldn't make out all of the organs due to the low fluid so I was asked to go and sit back in the waiting room and allow my bladder to fill up. I sat there wishing and praying that everything was okay. We were called back in and she soon found the kidneys and bladder that she had been looking for. They were all fine. I started to relax a little and even managed to give Ian a little smile. She continued to move the scanner around my tummy, reading out numbers to her colleague regularly. She then fell silent for an uncomfortable period as she pushed the scan probe harder into my tummy to get a better view. She hadn't told me the sex. She put her probe down and I knew it was bad news. "There's something there but I don't know what it is, I've never seen it before and I can't tell if its attached to the placenta or the baby". We didn't know what was wrong, we just knew it wasn't good. We were then directed into a different room, one with comfy seats and a coffee machine and it dawned on me that we were in the "bad news room".
From this point we were treated differently, staff spoke to us more softly, apologised for our wait and offered us cups of tea. After what felt like a lifetime of waiting we were called into see a consultant who again could shine no light on the situation and tried to reassure us that it could be nothing. We were referred to Professor Robson, a fetal medicine expert at the RVI in Newcastle and our first appointment with him would be Friday.
Looking back now, this day was the beginning of the end for our precious baby.
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