Posts Tagged ‘worry’

Venting. It’s not just for heating systems.

March 9, 2011

Just a quick vent. I need to get it out, but by no means do you need to read it. But I’ve spent today feeling like I’m loosely held together by tape, and the tape is losing its stickiness. Part of it is my period, but most of it’s this job. Kinda like drinking – you might fancy someone, but once you’re drunk? Kiss city.

We have a ‘helper’ come over once a week. She’s from a charity who helps support families – we got her because of my disability and the fact that I have multiples. She’s the reason we started being able to get out of the house. Her manager just popped over unexpectedly – she had me in her diary as an appointment, I did not.

We spent much of the time talking about applying for benefits/welfare.  Now, we have been entitled to benefits for the children since birth – and disability benefits for me could have been applied for, too. We never bothered with either. Now it seems like something definitely worth doing, and we actually got one of the forms, but TMD is having trouble working it out.

After the lady left, I started crying in the kitchen.

I texted TMD to ask her to leave work 30 minutes early – and let’s face it, what does she owe them at this point? While waiting for her reply, I noticed a text from Aussie. A picker upper text. A really nice text.

As is my wont, I burst into tears and felt sad and angry. Nice things often make me more in touch with my sad place than other sorts of things. I value her support. I value your support. Knowing people are thinking of us is nice.

But when – tell me when – I became someone who needed help applying for benefits? When did I become someone who needed benefits?

And what happens if we don’t have enough money for me to continue Bowen Therapy?? For the first time in years I am feeling a bit better, and the thing that is helping me recover is going to be stopped?!

I’m crying now. I feel out of control. If I was still working, we’d still have my income. As it stands, I’m limited in terms of what I can help control. So I am cleaning; I’m making sure dinner is ready for TMD and all the dishes are done so she has the evenings to do job stuff. Job Stuff. Job. Stuff.

And I am largely holding it together.

But today, I’m not.

The one where I reveal the depths of my craziness when pseudo medical people freak me the fuck out.

October 29, 2009

Tonight a woman told me I needed to call the national swine flu helpline in regards to Snort. My stomach clenched and I felt I was going to abruptly eject The Shit Of Fear all over the couch.

I’ve been sick this week. Headache, poopy times, tired. TMD is now sick as well, which is odd for her. Last night Snort threw up a few times. I hesitate to say it was vomit as who can really tell the difference between throwing up and a violent spit up? But there were three occasions where huge amounts of milk shot from his mouth across rooms.

Today they have both had very fucked up feeds, him more than her.

The thing is, we switched from the easy digest back to the normal milk yesterday. And they are also 11 weeks old, near growth spurt time. Both are feeding less than every three hours – which is fucking shocking after getting used to much longer stretches, I can tell you…like having newborns again – and not having as big of feeds as usual. But is this a bug, a growth spurt, new milk? Who knows.

Then Snort felt warm. Okay, quite warm. Hot?

We put one of those forehead strips on him. Said 37/38 degrees C. Our fucking nutso health visitor is always banging on about temps of 38 and how YOU NEED TO SEE A DOCTOR IF YOU DON’T WANT YOUR BABY TO COMBUST. So I called the doctor.

And the fucking receptionist said to call this hotline. I was crying and shitting myself, even though I knew he did not have the Swine Flu. I thought, at most, he was just fighting the bug TMD and I have had. This phone number began with the recorded message, ‘Welcome to the national pandemic hotline.’

I handed TMD the phone and hightailed it to the toilet.

Now, bowels empty and head more clear, we are still waiting for the doctor to call. I refuse to talk to him/her. Because I am apparently just as crazy as that fucking health visitor. I told receptionist lady that I really didn’t think there was anything to worry about, and the tone of her voice was like, ‘Okay, then. Risk your child’s life.’

Twenty minutes after this whirlwind of hysteria, including me saying, ‘Fuck, I don’t think I can handle having children,’ Snort was lying on a blanket smiling away at the Taggie I was dangling over him. Ten minutes after that, I was reading him and Coconut a story and realising this was all the most fucking ridiculous thing in the entire world.

It was scary, though.

I can’t imagine how scary it would be to actually feel that something was wrong with your child, as opposed to just freaking out because some crazy bitch was playing it safe. (I thank her, whilst calling her a crazy bitch.) I like to think I would storm the doctor’s office….anything to avoid the huge wait at A&E.

I think the thing is that these people trigger my worst fears. I may doubt my own instincts, because I am a bit of a worrier when it comes to their health (I got this from my mom, who is always fake diagnosing me with various diseases.). But when someone utters a phrase like ‘Swine Flu’, I start off on a train of crazy thinking.

What if this IS the start of the flu? God, should we have gone to the doctor yesterday? What symptoms am I watching out for? Google says mortality is highest in babies!!

Thankfully Google also said it had the symptoms of being flu like (well, yes), unresponsive, a rash, coughing, etc. Snort is about as alert as he’s ever been.

And he doesn’t feel hot anymore.

Our couch is littered with various thermometres, where TMD made us take the temp of every member of the household in two ways just to compare. She wasn’t doing it in the crazy way I would have, though: she was using it to prove the point that forehead strips are fucking stupid and inaccurate.

Anyway. If I believed in God I would be very, very thankful tonight that things appear to be just plain ordinary. The status quo is a happy place to be when it means you have two alert, playful, and calm babies on your hands.

Thank you to my twitterful twitty type friends who provided instant support and love. I needed it.

19 weeks 2 days pregnant.

April 2, 2009

I just get so worried about these babies. Is the paracetemol I took after The Accident going to make them have two heads each? Did the knee ultrasound make them glow-in-the-dark? Does the maternity belt smush them? CurlyGirl laughs and tells me this is just the beginning of a lifetime of worry.

We dopplered (I create verbs in my spare time) them this morning.

Last night was rotten for both of us. I woke up twice screaming, in the sort of hip pain that I never imagined was possible. It lingered even after I got out of bed. I was in tears, hobbling around, etc. Ended up on the couch, which may become my new home during the nights as well as the days. TMD woke me up this morning (as per request) so I could attempt to clean myself before Corporate T came over, and I just started crying because I was sooooo tired. I thought my hippy hippy quakes happened early on and one right after the other, but apparently the second was around 1:45 am. So lots of sleeping-waking-sleeping-waking.

And you know what? I don’t care. Genuinely don’t care, as long as those babies keep growing and developing and getting nice and fat. And STAY IN PLACE. I will publically say I’d quite like to get to 38 weeks. I will not have these babies, however, in the next 13 weeks. That is unacceptable. I want a minimum of 36 weeks, and I’m putting it down here in black and white because I. Am. Determined.

Bedrest continues….

Countdown to due date: 145 days.


How many dashes can one entry hold?

April 1, 2009

I’ve come to the conclusion that my begging post a few weeks ago (you know, asking the universe to send me a netbook) was because I knew I’d be on ‘rest’ at some point. I’m in an incredibly awkward position right now which is possibly not the best for the babies or my back, so will keep this short. It’s a bit of a disappointment because I really want to be able to write….but sitting in chairs is a pain in the ass. Literally. (And the hips, the vagina, the…)

So: yesterday. It scared the baby jesus out of me. I know I have been wondering how in god’s name I would be able to manage working until I went on leave – but I wanted to be independently wealthy and choose to take time off, rather than be told I MUST. Right now. Or else.

The doctor said, ‘You’re working at 19 weeks? With TWINS?’ She didn’t seem too appalled at my job – after all, being a counsellor is hardly a high intensity workout (physically, at least), but was absolutely against me commuting into the city. This is all really handy because after an epic struggle, guess what arrived in the mail yesterday? My free upgrade to first class and a nice little button (translation = gross litte button, which I liked anyway) proclaiming I had a baby on board.

Green persuaded me to make the doctor’s appointment at the end of last week. She’s been hearing about my waking up in hip pain – which now has escalated to having little blocks of hours at a time where I can’t sleep because There Is No Good Way To Lay. I also was apparently making funny little pain faces when standing up or moving around at work. She said I was a stupid fuck, essentially, and that I should see the doctor. So I called and got an appointment (not with Dr. G, thank god, but with Dr. S – Green’s old doctor!) for yesterday.

Then two nights before the appointment, I was lying in bed when I felt a sudden stabbing sensation in my vagina going up through my womb. I had about five rhythmic pulses of this and it stopped; I went back to sleep. (I’m trying not to worry so much now. Ha.) On Monday I maybe had one vagina pain…maybe. Yesterday I was at work – and actually thinking about how it was already 1:30 and I hadn’t had a chance to lay down – putting my feet up and my body horizontal is a new part of my life. The next thing I know, I am getting monstrous pains. Not to be too gross or thoughtless, but it felt like I was being raped by a knife. Seriously.

Long intense pains running along the right side of my vagina.

So that became my worry. I told the doctor about the vagina stuff – and also that for the past two mornings, I had VERY thick mucus. Similar to the eggwhite discharge a woman has when ovulating. This is very different than the normal pregnancy discharge I’ve been getting. Crazy me thought it was my mucus plug and the pains were my cervix shortening or something. The doctor said, ‘If that was happening you would be having contractions, and we wouldn’t be able to sit here and have this conversation.’ She didn’t physically check my cervix, which was her only fault, but hey. We can’t all be perfect.

She diagnosed me with ’round ligament pain.’ This is a nice addition to my pubic dysfuntional pain giver thing I also possibly have. She was not too worried about my hips/back and said the focus right now is to rest, rest, rest. Apparently there are a couple of ligaments at the bottom of the uterus. They form a little diamond shape through which the cervix dangles down. These ligaments are responsible for holding everything up and in place. Because I am on a high natural dose of relaxin (a hormone your body releases when pregnant that happens to soften your ligaments), my ligaments are relaxing. Or relaxin’, if you will.

They are all stretching at an incredible rate, because my uterus is growing, growing, growing. Add the weight of two babies to that, and you start to get the picture.

The appointment was scary because she was really concerned I hadn’t felt the babies yesterday (I don’t really ever feel them?) and palpatated my tummy (first person to do this!), and then listened to heartbeats. Mano’s first heartrate was 100, which is freakishly low and that concerned us both. She went back to check Mano again and it had zipped back at up 153. Of course I made TMD check the hearts again last night. That doppler has been such an anxiety-saver and I am SO GLAD I bought it.

The doctor started talking about placental abruption and all sorts of other horrible things which lead to pregnancy loss. I almost shat myself. However, at the end I think she had satisfied herself – if not me – that this little problem had nothing to do with the babies, and it was just the fact that my body was having difficulty coping with this many babies. She said many ‘ladies’ can’t work during the duration of pregnancy, particularly with twins. (Somehow once you are pregnant you are a ‘lady’ and every other pregnant woman is as well. I don’t get this.)

We still have the 20 week scan next Tuesday. This scan will reassure us – hopefully – that both babies are doing very well. I don’t mind this semi-bedrest or pain at all as long as it does not mean the babies are compromised in any way. In actual fact, loads of rest is very helpful to twinnies in utero. But I won’t feel 100% calm till after the scan. My worst fear – as I’ve said – is premature labour so anything that staves that off is a good thing.

I’ve been signed off for two weeks initially. But I think this is it. When the two weeks are up I should be able to easily get an extension for the next seven (assuming I have that much sick leave left – will have to check this with Joy) and I think I’m going to ask for it. My body has been protesting the walking and sitting when I’m at work, and it’s time I listen to it.

Also: how the hell did I used to feel them so much and now I rarely ever do? I know Mano has an anterior placenta, and Torre sort of does too – fundal. I am aware that can cushion kicks. I am trying to choose not to worry about this as well, as no good comes from sitting here and being a bundle of nerves. I just want to write, write, write and take advantage of this time off work. But fuck, you know, sitting hurts my vagina. I don’t know how typing is supposed to happen. Right now I am supported behind by cushions, knees sort of up, laptop on my knees. This means I am leaning back which isn’t great for getting the babies head down or giving them a lot of room to perform in. I am going to have to figure out this typing position thing soon. Any suggestions welcome.

So. Thus endeth my novel of bedrest.

Oh – except for the postscript. Last night after I got home, I suddenly felt very wet (no nice way to say it), so I pulled down my pants to have a little looksie. My entire crotch region of my knickers was, well, soaked through. Like I’d pissed myself, except it wasn’t urine. Worry Monster kicked in that it was my waters breaking. Let me tell you, anxiety likes living in my brain.

Perhaps the other thing of note is boob-related. Remember how I had to buy bras that were a bit too big? They are now so tight that they literally leave indents on my breasts wherever there is a seam. My boobs are growing. And my nipples? Um. UM. Giant, and often white tipped. Truly suitable snow covered peaks for what is becoming a formidable mountain range.

Now that IS it. See you soon, no doubt, as I’m ‘resting’ all day, every day. I will up  my Twittering – my name is Existere on there, so feel free to follow. I am going to write about exciting things like my water intake, vagina discoveries, and daytime tv. Aren’t you SO tempted?


The update to end all updates. AKA: Have you ever sued anyone for a personal injury?

January 15, 2009

I suppose if I was writing this a few months from now, I could make this entry funny. But, quite frankly, I’m not in the mood. I’m still experiencing a high level of pain. Went to A&E on the weekend, and I was there for ages. They were checking me for this trauma-related syndrome and said I would probably need surgery. My left foot was ice cold and they were having trouble finding a pulse.

I was freaked out about x-rays and medications during pregnancy, but resigned that if it had to happen it had to happen. It was more painful considering what x-rays might do than my leg could ever be – and that’s saying quite a lot. I’ve never felt such intense, agonising pain in my life – and such persistance as well. We’re trying to find little ways to make things bearable, but it’s difficult. TMD has now taken half days the rest of the week, because I can’t get off the couch to go to the toilet, get food, etc.

Morning sickness is also in full flow again. Dry heaving and vomiting every day. AWESOME stuff.

So. What happened?

I came out of a meeting at a client’s house. It was dark, just after 6 pm. This particular road has crossings but very few of them. I realised I was walking the wrong way. I could see a crossing, and actually had the thought that maybe I should walk up to it and use it. (Though I have crossed this road about six million times in the past 5 years.) Then I saw that I was directly across the street from the bus stop I needed to use.

I waited until all the traffic on my side of the road was stationary, and there was no traffic coming the other way. I started crossing the road, and the next thing I knew everything was black and I was sat on the road. Immediate pain flared in my left knee, and then a mental voice screamed, ‘The babies! THE BABIES!’ I started to struggle to get up and out of the road. A man at the side began to rush over and yelled, ‘Don’t move. Stay still!’

I yelled, ‘I’m pregnant and I am not staying in the middle of the road!’ The p-word was miraculous. Suddenly people were running from every direction to help me up. The man who hit me yelled, ‘You shouldn’t have crossed the road like that!’ at me, and I just said, ‘I’m pregnant.’

An ambulance and the police were called. The pain in my left leg was terrible, but I was much more concerned about the babies. In the ambulance my whole body was shaking uncontrollably. I called TMD and couldn’t stop sobbing. The ambulance lady was lovely and kept me talking, which calmed me a bit. She kept trying to check my knee and other injuries, and I kept saying, ‘I don’t care about any of this. I just want to see if the baby or babies are okay.’

At the hospital, I started shaking again. I was seen pretty quickly (again, I think the p-word opens a lot of doors) and the consultant only seemed interested in my knee. He asked me to bend it and said there was no fracture if I could bend it, and that they couldn’t do an x-ray at that stage in the pregnancy (six weeks). There was a dull ache in my calf, but at that point it didn’t really register.

Then they did an over-the-tummy scan. I said to the doctor, ‘I don’t know if I have one baby or two. And I don’t care if there is one or seven, I just want them to be okay.’

I figured things were alright when he began to give lessons in how to diagnose pregnancy via ultrasound to another doctor, but still. He put the thingie on my stomach, smiled, and said, ‘Well, well, well.’ That also relieved me, though he didn’t take the trouble to tell me things were okay at that point. I heard him begin talking to the other doctor, and the words ‘two gestational sacks’ were definitely mentioned.

He said the sacs were intact, that there were two yolk sacks, etc. He then swivelled the screen and said, ‘Well, miss, did you hear what I said?’

I replied, ‘I have two?’

He said, ‘You definitely have two, maybe more.’ MAYBE MORE? What the fuck? He said that the pregnancy was fine. He showed me both sacks and attempted to let me listen to both heartbeats. This all freaked me out as one sack was much larger than the other, and the heartbeat was mostly audible and I could see it registering on the monitor under the ultrasound. Baby #2’s heartbeat wasn’t so simple.

The weird thing about all of this was how I felt. Emotionally. Normally even a papercut (maybe a slight exaggeration) would require me to have mood swings – fear and needing TMD there, to RAGE that she was not there. I did not care that she was not there. I did not care about being alone at the hospital. (After I got hit, the woman chairing the meeting came along and said she would go to the hospital with me. I refused. My co-worker offered to come – I refused. And then there was a knocking on the back door of the ambulance and my friend G was there! He hugged me and said, ‘How are you?’ He too offered to come.)

Nothing mattered. I didn’t feel like my being supported was the priority, I felt like making sure those babies were okay was the absolutely most important thing on the planet. In the hospital, I was so worried about miscarriage and the fact that I would feel responsible for it.  This was a terrible pain that was all consuming.

So. Since the accident, a range of problems have occured. Muscle spasms in my foot, calf, thigh, back. Pain in my hip, knee, and ankle. Assorted cuts and bruises.

But my calf? Incomparable. Apparently it’s a tear of the calf muscle – it might take 3 to 4 weeks for the pain to begin to go away. AWESOME. I’ve not been back to work since the accident, as obviously at this point I can’t even pee without assistance. I’m worried about some sort of nerve problem as well. I’ve had tingling in my left foot. Yesterday if I pushed my toes, I had very painful tingling.

I don’t know if this is normal pain associated with this type of injury, from being mostly immobile, or something more serious. Going to do some hardcore googling.

Anyway. We went for the proper scan in the city on Monday. I vomited in the car the whole way there, managing to open the car door and tip out my sick bowl in the middle of the road. We parked about a (normally) 30 second walk from the clinic, and had to take a cab the rest of the way because I just couldn’t manage it, even with my snazzy new crutches.

The scan confirmed the two babies. We saw and heard both heartbeats. The woman confirmed that it was normal to have one smaller sack than the other in twins. She also measured the babies and said both were in normal range. I’ve got about a zillion pictures and an official scan report. Essentially, one baby (as of Monday) was just over 9 mm. The other was just over 6 mm. The idea of seeing the heartbeat of such tiny things is just unreal.

The sonographer counted my due date from the embryo transfer, not the egg collection – so that pushed my due date back to August 29. It also made me three days ‘less’ pregnant. When my mom was pregnant with me, she was due on August 29. I think that’s quite cool. Also moderately disturbing to think about my parents having sex.

We met with the doctor who did the embryo transfer very briefly after the scan (after we’d had a longer meeting with the nurse). She warned us about vanishing twin syndrome – that in 50% of twin pregnancies, they reduce down to one baby. I asked when this would happen by, and she said twelve weeks. I confirmed with her that if there were two babies at my twelve week scan, chances are things would officially be good to go.

She said I could choose to come in for a nine week scan, but she didn’t really see a reason for that as both babies were in the normal range and everything was healthy.


I think that’s everything. I need to not be sitting up any more.

Number one on my wishlist…

October 14, 2008

I have been worrying lately that I’m too much of a worrier. Like my brain instantly jumps to The Worst Possible Outcome in any unknown or ambiguous situation. I’ve been reading Becoming a Mother and realising that everyone thinks they have cancer at some point, or just KNOWS a mysterious man will rape them on a dark street, etc.


What prompted this? The clinic rang and left a message while I was in a clinical meeting. I rang back. The girl said they had the test results, and then put me on hold for ages. Of course I thought, ‘Oh Jesus, I’ve got a chromosomal fuck-up and they are discussing the best way to tell me.’ Turns out the girl was just new and didn’t know what she was doing.

End results: every. single. blood. test. (I think we’re talking about twenty!) is back and everything is a-okay. The head nurse is due to ring me back and discuss the treatment plan with me. This is it: it’s all real now. We are doing IVF.

I think this means I begin taking the pill when my vagina next emits The Blood, and then on day 17 I start forcing TMD to give me injections while I keep my eyes averted. Then I will bleed once more, then more shots, and ultrasounds, and blood tests, and egg harveting, and ICSI, and embryos being put back into Uterous Land. Phew. At that point I will pregnant until proven otherwise….and have an endless wait till I get a blood test confirming whether or not we are pregnant.

BABY TIME, people. Baby time.