Four days and counting

We have just four days left to go before the C-section. I can't believe it's so soon. We are excited, petrified, full of awe... It feels completely unreal.

My husband is currently on his way across the Atlantic, due back on Friday night. That gives us a day here together on Saturday before the big day! I've been praying he makes it back on time. I must admit the volcanic ash cloud that has been hovering over Europe has made me nervous about him going away, despite the fact his airline has simply swapped to more southerly routes to avoid it completely. You just *never* know with these things, and it would be just our luck that he'd be stuck in the USA just when he really, really needs to be here! So, God willing he'll be back with me on Friday night. Please, please, please..

Oh, and while I'm at it, I've also been praying that Bump doesn't fancy popping out before then, too. I'm actually staying with a friend tonight and tomorrow just in case I need to make a mad dash to the hospital. So far, though, I've had no obvious Braxton Hicks and no early labour symptoms that I'm aware of, so fingers crossed it will be fine.

On the subject of the volcanic ash cloud - am I the only one to find it slightly unnerving that all of a sudden, the closure of UK airspace was lifted completely, with no significant change in the density of the ash? It's like the government and the CAA just suddenly decided it wasn't a risk anymore. I know that they've been saying they needed time to collate data from test flights, etc, etc, but part of me feels it can't really be THAT safe to be flying in volcanic ash, even if it's relatively thin... I just hope they're right, I really do.

On the plus side, the announcement might have come in the nick of time for already cash-strapped European airlines who are close to folding. I don't want to name airlines on here, but there are several that are struggling pretty badly, and I feel for all of the crew and their families, and pray we don't get another high-profile airline collapse very soon. This week's delays will have caused them tremendous financial pain, that's for certain. Money many airlines simply don't have. So, hurrah for being able to fly again!

I have a feeling this will probably be my last post before the C-section, so I'll sign off for now, and will be back when we are Mummy and Daddy!

Can't believe I just got to type that...

C-section vs natural birth

So, the date has been set for Bump's birthday, barring any unforeseen circumstances - nine days to go!

My final scan this week showed that Bump is still breech (no real surprise there) so the hospital has booked me in for a c-section. I'm quite relieved really to have a plan in place, and also relieved because my husband has managed to get 10 days off starting on the day of the op, so he'll be able to spend quality time with me and the baby, and get some impressive Daddy baby-care skills in while I'm recovering from the surgery.

What's surprised me though about this whole experience is how judgemental some people can be about what seems to me is an intensely personal experience, i.e the birth of our baby. Now, I'm sure my pregnancy hormones are making me ultra-sensitive, but a few reactions to the c-section decision have been fascinating, and slightly insulting if truth be told.

It seems to me that some people think I'm "copping out" from attempting a normal delivery. This couldn't be further from the truth! Cripes, if we could be sure that Bump could be delivered safely that way, we'd attempt it, but given the particular position (full, footling breech) and new, well respected research showing that a caesarean birth in this situation is the safest method for mother and baby, make attempting a vaginal delivery a very foolhardy thing indeed.

Part of me wonders whether some women who've struggled through difficult natural births feel resentful that they weren't able to choose this route. I think also that some women seem to wear an imaginary "badge of honour" after a natural birth, and feel perhaps that I'm letting the side down.

What a load of rubbish. Part of me would still love that delicious uncertainty and excitement of guessing when Bump might choose to arrive: would love to be able to put into practice all the reading I've done about natural birth, would love for my husband to be at my side coaching me as I gave birth to our child the way nature intended.

But given that if we did it this way there's a high chance our baby might be oxygen deprived at birth and that I might need significant medical intervention, well, that way is closed to us completely.

So, dear people, both in real life and online - please think before you pass judgement. This is our baby, our birth, and our choice. All that matters to us is that we get to take our healthy baby home with us afterwards. Which is what everyone wants, after all.

An unscheduled hospital visit

For a while now I've been getting nervous every time my husband has gone away on a trip, because something bad always seems to happen while he's away. Past examples include a car accident, a nasty fever and falling over and ending up in A&E. I've even taken to joking that I'm going to ground him until the birth!

Now I'm almost serious. Just one hour after he left for a four day trip over the weekend, I started vomiting, and before I knew it, I had full blown gasto-enteritis. It lasted all night and well into the next day, and eventually I realised I just wasn't getting any better - in fact I was feeling worse. I also realised I just wasn't able to keep even water down, and aware that this couldn't be good for the baby at all, I finally decided to call the hospital.

The ambulance came immediately, and they put me on a drip and took me to hospital. At A&E they diagnosed severe dehydration (there were signs my muscle was starting to be used for energy, as my body wasn't getting anywhere near enough nutrients) and admitted me overnight.

This was my first ever overnight stay in hospital, and with my husband away, it was a very scary experience. Luckily a couple of wonderful friends took shifts staying with me unti bedtime, one of them even bringing me a "care package" of something to sleep in, some warm socks and even her ipod, pre-loaded with lots of British radio podcasts. I was so touched by their amazing generosity.

I shared a room with just one other woman (a real improvement on the NHS in the UK, where I'd probably have been in a ward with a minimum of four beds!) and bump and I were well looked after, but there's no getting away from the fact that hospital is NOT home. The bed was slightly uncomfortable, the room too light, I missed my duvet, my pyjamas, my own shower (in fact ANY shower - I couldn't use one as I was continuously strapped to my IV - I even had to take it with me to the toilet!) Most of all, though, I missed my husband. He called me as often as he could (luckily, there's no problem with the use of a mobile in hospital here) and I was so glad just to hear his voice.

The medical staff actually wanted me to stay a second night, but I took the decision that I would feel much better at home, and after some persuasion they discharged me yesterday afternoon. The relief of getting back to our apartment was incredible.

My friends here have rallied round, too - I got back to notes under my door offering help, and friends have brought me books, DVDs, things to drink and just wonderful company. Another made me an Easter meal last night (as much as I could eat of it!) and I was immensely touched. When you're this far away from home and your husband is thousands of miles away, things like that are so important.

Thank God my husband is back tomorrow morning. I've missed him so much. It's at times like these when you just wish your husband did a 9-5 job in an office just 30 minutes away, rather than an international, 24-hours a day job with an office mile high in the sky...

Almost parents...

I'm now 35 weeks, and the big news here is that Bump is still breech, and refusing to move. We had a scan last week and the doctor told us that Bump's legs are "deeply engaged", and that in her experience, babies don't generally turn from this position at this stage in pregnancy. So, we're probably going to be scheduling a c-section for the last week of April! We can't believe we're going to be parents so soon. We are extremely excited, and nervous too, of course. Note to self: definitely, definitely pack your hospital bag this week!

I'm suddenly starting to panic about all the things we haven't sorted out yet. For example, I realised the other day that we haven't bought any baby socks yet. Hardly something to keep you up at night, is it? Hormonal pregnant women are irrational at the best of times.

The upside of needing to have a c-section is that my husband can arrange to definitely be at the birth, which is a very precious thing. He's managed to move his leave request from May to the last week of April so, if Bump still won't turn, he'll have around 10 days at home with us after the birth, which will be wonderful. Of course if Bump DOES turn, he'll have to try to move his leave again, and who knows if the rostering department will oblige!

Nevermind, we'll put our trust in God on this one, and just go with the flow. It's all we *can* do, after all.

One born every minute

I'm feeling rather emotional after watching the first couple of episodes of a British documentary, One Born Every Minute, which follows the everyday goings on of a labour ward in a British hospital. These episodes showed a natural birth and two c-sections, and it was completely fascinating, and made me cry, of course. The very idea of the beginning of a new life, and therefore the start of a new family, makes me feel like welling up nowadays. I blame the hormones.

What I did think was interesting, however, was the behaviour of the Dads during birth. One kept playing practical jokes (including trying to lock his wife in the toilet during labour!) Another one just sat in the corner silently, and refused to go in for the c-section and let his partner's mother go in instead, and yet another just looked at his girlfriend with a rather blank expression as she faced her fears over the birth of their baby, which had a known physical disability. I can only hope that these men were acting this way to mask their true feelings - anyhow, it was uncomfortable to watch them. I know I'd be distraught if my husband didn't seem as focussed and involved in the birth as me - but then, everyone's different, I suppose.

We made an annoying discovery last week. It seems the way British passports are being processed in the Gulf is going to change at exactly the moment we need to get Bump's first passport. Instead of being printed here, ALL our documents (including both our passports) will have to be sent to Europe for a process which could take up to four weeks. Which of course is brilliant when a) You're a pilot and need your passport at all times and b) You are under time pressure from the government of the country you live in to get your child's residency sorted asap. Brilliant, eh?

My husband is therefore going to have to apply for a second passport (which we're told is at the discretion of the Embassy!) and we're also going to have to engage in a mad scrum when Bump is just days old to get the birth certificate (which takes a week here), a passport pic (that will be a cracker!) and then to the courier to send our docs off for the passport. Oh, and we're having to order new copies of our full birth certificates from the UK, because we need those, too. To say I'm annoyed about this would be an understatement. Just what you need when you've just had a baby, eh!

Anyhow, rant over. What watching the documentary certainly did make me think about is that I need to pack my hospital bag! I've got six weeks to go until Bump's due date, which incidentally is likely to be the day of the general election in the UK.
As one friend said to me last week, that gives new meaning to getting through the pains of Labour...

A year in the Gulf

I've just passed my one year anniversary of expat life. So much has happened since I arrived here. It's been one hell of a ride on a crazy rollercoaster, lots of ups, lots of downs. I'm not sure I'd like to do it again! But I AM proud to have done it, and I'm very proud at how well my husband and I have made it work, despite all the things life has thrown at us in the last few years - redundancy, infertility, moving continents, and a terrible bereavement. I'm glad we couldn't see any of it coming, I must say. Sometimes it's just better to live day by day.

It's also sometimes the small things that make life better. Today, for example, I managed to buy Marmite at the supermarket (clumsy pregnant me managed to break my last jar!!) and then a friend came round and brought me British cakes and chocolates her pilot husband had just bought specially for us on his latest trip to Heathrow. I was so touched.

Anyhow, one year on, and we're still here, about to become a family of three. It's an amazing miracle which we will never fail to be grateful for. I had a check-up this morning, and the baby's still breech (so what's new?!) but apart from that, things are fine. I am SO grateful for that. My husband took a picture of me at eight months pregnant which I put up on Facebook, and I was amazed by how many lovely comments people have been kind enough to leave! Clearly I don't look as much like a beached whale as I think I do...

One inevitability of being pregnant is that people will come up to you with all kinds of unsolicited advice. My mum has been feeding a lot of it to me via her friends back home. Yesterday, she came up with a real cracker. Apparently, someone she knows also had a breech baby, and had such a brilliant suggestion for how she managed to get her baby to turn, that I thought I'd leave you with it.

Apparently, she played loud pop music in her pants...

Eight months

32 weeks. Wow. It's now less than 60 days until bump's due date. I'm feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. And I'm slightly overwhelmed by how much there is to do, both bump related and non-bump related, before then. I made a list yesterday and stuck it on the fridge. It made me feel a little bit better, a little bit more in control.

We still need to buy a buggy and a car seat, but have been waiting until we got a special cashback credit card before we make what will be fairly expensive purchases. The credit card has turned into a running joke in our house. First, the bank needed more proof of ID than they'd initially asked for (and we already have two accounts with this bank!) Then, they took over two weeks to actually print the cards, having said it would take 2 days. Then I went to try to pick them up, and the bank was closed because of an unannounced bank holiday (which happens over here quite a lot!) Then finally, I went yesterday and they were open. Hallelujah, I thought. But twas not to be. It seems I can't pick them up, despite the fact my name's on one of the cards, because I'm not my husband. His signature is required for them both, apparently. By this point I was losing my temper - I'd sat in traffic for almost an hour to get there in 30c heat, and I'm pregnant and tired. This was my second attempt at picking them up. I told the woman behind the counter that this is how I felt, but was just met by a blank, surprised stare. Hey ho, what can you do? I went outside and sat in the car with the a/c on for 10 minutes to calm myself down before doing battle with the traffic. Clearly the credit cards will have to wait until my husband can come to pick them up himself. One of the delights and general frustrations of living in the Gulf.

Bump is still breech. The doctors are telling me in one breath that there's still time, then in another they're also talking about scheduling a c-section, which I have mixed feelings about. Obviously it's surgery, and has a longer recovery time than a normal birth and I'd have to stay in hospital longer, but on the plus side, I would be able to schedule it for when my husband is definitely home. So, we shall see. I'm being realistic about it and have read up on C-sections as much as I can so I'm prepared.

Accident prone idiot

I seem to have been accident prone all my life, and now I'm 30 weeks pregnant it's starting to really annoy me.

Yesterday I managed to trip over in the office car park and fell onto the gravel on my hands and knees, instinctively protecting the baby. Although I knew I hadn't hit my bump, I was pretty nastily knocked around by it and decided that I should go to my now favourite locale, A&E, to get checked out.

After taking ages to find the heartbeat (WHY does that always happen to me? Apparently the baby's breech at the moment, and the heart wasn't where they'd expected it to be...) they told me that all was fine, but sent me to see a doctor anyway to get patched up. Consequently I arrived back at work with huge bandages around my hands. Such a great look. Honestly, I haven't had grit covered bloody knees since I was at school! I know they say pregnancy makes you clumsy, but this is ridiculous.

I honestly can't trust myself at the moment. I've been dropping plates and glasses, finding parking the car much harder than usual (I scraped it on another car a couple of weeks ago... I was infuriated with myself).

Not that of course this is entirely new. Somehow in the past I've managed to break my toe twice simply by stubbing it badly, break my foot by falling over in a boat on holiday (a whole month in plaster after that one) and I've lost count of the number of times I've burned myself whilst ironing, baking, and cooking.

Perhaps this is just something I'm going to have to live with! My mum has always called me Calamity Jane. Hopefully this won't extend to dropping the baby....!

On the pregnancy news front, as I said I'm now 30 weeks, and the baby's breech, but I'm told this isn't anything to worry about at this stage. We had a private childbirth preparation class the other day, which was good to do. My husband is about to approach the airline about trying to get a favourable roster around the baby's due date. Fingers crossed for that! If all else fails, I'm currently looking around for a doula who could be on standby to come and hold my hand if my husband is away for the birth. I feel better at least having a back-up plan...

Three months to go

Incredibly, I'm now 27 weeks pregnant, and just three months away from my due date. 12 weeks! Wow, this has all gone so quickly. Bump is kicking me very consistently now, which is so wonderful, and other people can feel (and see!) the kicks from the outside, which is very fun indeed. The downside is that my bladder seems to be a key kicking target. I'm considering counting my loo visits every day, to see if I can reach a world record. Right now I'm keeping an exciting novel in the bathroom to entertain me. I'm also becoming best friends with every toilet attendant in every shop and restaurant in the city...

There was good news on the gestational diabetes front. I don't have it! Hooray. One less thing to worry about.

Last week I was involved in a car accident, not a rare occurrence for anyone here, sadly. Luckily it was very minor, but I was still worried about bump, so went along to the A&E to get checked out. Everything turned out to be fine, but it was still a nasty time (as hospital visits usually are). At one point they put me in the trauma department in a cubicle next to several people who were seriously injured and in a lot of pain. Very stressful all round, particularly as my husband landed back from a USA trip a few hours after I was admitted and so had to come straight to the hospital from the airport, and it was all complicated by the fact that I got transferred to the Women's Hospital A&E, where he wasn't allowed inside to check on me. That sort of cultural difference is quite hard to accept under those sort of circumstances, but we managed. At least the care was excellent, which is the most important thing.

I was amazed to see last night on a forum I read regularly that a woman with the same due date as me has just delivered her baby girl, severely premature, but alive and well so far. Her waters broke early, and she went into labour a week later. It's so amazing to think that bump might be able to survive outside of the womb even now.

We've been thinking a lot recently about the birth. We've found a British midwife who's going to come to do some private birth preparation classes with us (unfortunately with my husband's roster, group classes have proved impossible). We're also thinking of asking her to be on standby for me in case I go into labour when my husband's away flying - I think it would be very reassuring having her with me if he couldn't be there (God forbid, but you never know with this business!)

I had some very sad news from a friend last week. She's a neighbour of mine on the compound, and recently told me that she was 12 weeks pregnant. I was overjoyed for her. Sadly, however, the 12 week ultrasound NT test found suggestions of genetic abnormality, so she went ahead with an amnio, which confirmed Down's Syndrome. Her age was a factor - she is over 40, and knew it was a possibility, but it was still a horrible shock. I know it was a very difficult decision for her, but she and her husband decided to terminate the pregnancy. I'm so sad for her.

I have no idea what I'd have done if I'd been in her shoes. Pregnancy is such a gamble in every way. Even now, all we know is that things are fine with bump *so far*. As I've said before, I take nothing for granted. I'm just praying things will work out ok in the end.

Back into the lion's den

Some of you will remember this post, in which I unwittingly found myself attending a mother and baby group coffee morning.

As I was undergoing fertility treatment and was hormonally challenged (to put it mildly) at the time, it was a complete disaster. I ended up weeping uncontrollably in front of a group of complete strangers.

Well, the other day I faced my nemesis again, although crucially, this time willingly. There's a very active group of new and expectant mums here which meets once a week, and I decided it might be a good thing to make some new friends in a similar situation to me. I had hoped to do this via ante-natal classes, but finding group classes is proving tricky out here, so I figured a coffee group might be another good option.

The morning didn't start well. My husband was away, and as I drove to the venue I began to get horrible pains in my chest. I was extremely frightened, and when I parked up I found the pain was worse when I stood up, so I sat back in the car and tried to calm down. I rationalised that, as the pain was high up in my chest around my breastbone, it was most likely heartburn, something I've only had mildly in the past, but had read could be a problem at this stage of pregnancy. Eventually it eased off a little and I walked very slowly into the cafe and found the group.

Unfortunately there weren't any other expectant mums there this time - they were all new mums. Still, I sat down and the lady next to me suddenly said "I know you from somewhere..." As I was puzzling about it, she suddenly piped up, "Oh yes, I remember now. I was at that coffee morning at your compound....."

Horror flashbacks! Acute embarrassment. This woman has witnessed my worst ever public breakdown!

Luckily, she couldn't have been nicer. She congratulated me warmly, introduced me to her son who was in her tummy last time we met, and made me feel welcome. Once I sat down I owned up to my killer heartburn, and all the women present reassured me that that was what it was, and that I had nothing to worry about. One even gave me some Rennies to try to combat it. I was extremely grateful.

One of my friends at home told me a while ago, however, that you grow to both love and hate these sort of groups. Love the fact that you can get reassurance and advice, but hate the fact that they can also be exclusive and competitive. (Well MY baby sleeps through the night! Well MY baby can sit up now! Etc.) We'll just have to see how I find it.

It's certainly a miracle being on the inside of one of these groups now, rather than on the outside looking in. The outside is a cold, frightening and desperate place to be.

Other related news - I did my Glucose Tolerance Test yesterday, because my doctor thinks I'm at high risk of gestational diabetes due to my PCOS. It was pretty horrible. They give you a nasty sugary orange drink to drink after 12 hours fasting, then take four separate blood tests over three hours. Brilliant. I was so knackered by the experience I slept for three hours when I got home in the afternoon! Fingers crossed I pass it...

New life in 3D

We've just had our 22 week "anomaly scan". This is where they check for any obvious problems with the baby's organs and limbs, and I'm happy to report that bump passed with flying colours! We are so relieved. The scan was a particularly amazing experience because it was in 3D. This meant that we were able to see our baby's face for the first time, a magical experience we will never forget. Bump was sucking its thumb and smiling!

I've been feeling the baby kick a lot recently too, which is also a pretty amazing experience. My husband has even been able to feel the movement from the outside - I think we're breeding an athlete! This is less of a bonus at night when I'm trying to sleep. Night-time seems to be bump's favourite time! This doesn't augur well for our sleep!

In other news, I've just spoken to my mum in the UK on skype. It's snowing heavily there, and she moved the webcam so that I could see their garden blanketed in the white stuff. A small part of me feels a teensy bit jealous (there's something very romantic about snow, isn't there) but I also feel rather smug sitting here in 25c in a t-shirt, looking at the sun shining down outside our apartment, when she's in -2, in a thick jumper, hugging her portable radiator. There are definitely benefits to living out here!

A look back at 2009

What a year.

If we'd known at the beginning of the year how this one would pan out, what would we have said?

January: Our first attempt at Clomid failed. My husband flew off to the Gulf to begin his new job, unsure of what life would be like out there. An initial planned 6 weeks apart became more than two months as we struggled to sort out my visa. In the meantime, I packed up all our belongings and resigned from my job.

February: I have an emotional leaving do from work, and the UK gets its worst snowfall in years, just as my husband is studying for his new type-rating in the unrelenting sunshine of the Gulf. Having succeeded in packing/throwing away/shipping all our things, I move out of our house and in with mum and dad until I can fly out to be with him.

March: I bid goodbye to the UK for I know not how long. I'm moving to a country I've never even visited. I'm very sad but also overjoyed to see my husband again. When I get there I'm pleasantly surprised by our new apartment, but also dreadfully homesick for the first couple of weeks.

April: I begin to settle in and see the benefits of our new lifestyle. TTC wise, however, we're still in the dark, albeit with a bit more hope as my periods seem to have restarted, despite being 45 days apart each time! I decide to wait a while before attempting Clomid again. I continue to struggle to deal with the infertility, finding each happy announcement from people I know very difficult to cope with.

May: In May I take the big step of registering with the state healthcare system out here and am advised to try Clomid again. I take it at the end of the month and begin the two week wait to see if it's worked.

June: The Clomid doesn't work, but I get a positive progesterone test result, suggesting I definitely ovulated that cycle - a real step forward. At short notice we head back to the UK for a well-deserved holiday, and catch the best two weeks of the British summer while we're there!

July: We celebrate our third wedding anniversary in style. At the end of the month, I begin my third round of Clomid.

August: I struggle with the Clomid side-effects. At the end of the month, I fly with my husband on one of his trips to the US and have an amazing time. And a few days after we get back I do a pregnancy test and.... I'm pregnant! A complete miracle. I'm thrilled and petrified in equal measure. We fly back to the UK the next day for a planned holiday and tell our parents, who are delighted.

Then, a truly horrible bolt out of the blue. My wonderful mother-in-law died from a major stroke with absolutely no warning just days after she found out she was going to be a grandma. We are all devastated.

September: We spend another fortnight in the UK supporting my father-in-law and organising the funeral. It's a horrible time. Then, when we fly back to the Gulf, we resolve to get a scan done to establish whether the pregnancy is viable (I feel sure the emotional upset of the previous few weeks can't have been very good for the baby). We go for the scan with little hope but are overjoyed when the doctor plays us the heartbeat, a moment neither of us will ever forget. I'm 8 weeks pregnant and it looks good so far.

October: I begin to realise I really am pregnant, and it's amazing! We go for the 12 week scan and are told everything looks ok, so we start to tell people, which is very exciting.

November: We head back to the UK for a trip to see our families and go on a brilliant impromptu holiday in Scotland, organised by my husband. We are immensely lucky with the weather (the north-east floods badly just after we leave!) and have a wonderful time, just the two of us.

December: I'm now five months pregnant. We travel to the UK for 10 days before Christmas and have a fabulous if hectic time visiting all our family. We're again lucky with the weather, as it snows! My husband's Christmas roster isn't brilliant, so I fly with him to the US and we spend a really romantic Christmas Eve together stateside, flying back home on Christmas Day. It was an unusual but very special thing to do, and we're both so glad we made the effort to do it.

And that brings us up to now. My husband is on a trip over New Year (our first one apart), so that will be difficult for us both.

Still, I know that we're both looking towards 2010 with hope that it's a much better year, one where we can build on our new life out here, and welcome the new life we've made together into the world healthily and happily.

I wish every one of you a healthy, fun and most importantly, happy New Year.

The Christmas message of hope, revisited

Last year, just before Christmas, I wrote this post.

In it, I wrote:

For me this year, the baby, the symbol of God's love, has a new significance. Regular readers of this blog will know that my husband and I would love a child of our own, and that it's not going to be very easy for us. Hearing those familiar readings inevitably brought my own concerns to the fore. We would dearly love a child of our own by next Christmas. So, as I sat on that cold and rather uncomfortable pew last night, I said a silent prayer of hope that it might happen for us.

As I write this I can barely believe how much has changed in the past year. In the comments on that post, Someday wrote that she hoped the move would bring "many wonderful changes" to our lives, and that has really proved to be the case. I couldn't possibly have imagined it then (I could barely imagine the following week, let alone the following year), but in fact the move away from the UK has brought us many, many good things.

At the pinnacle of those things, of course, is the miracle of my pregnancy. I now pray that all goes well (because I take nothing for granted), and that next year we will be experiencing our first ever family Christmas.

I'm also saying a prayer for all those couples who are still waiting for the child they so dearly want. I will never forget how it felt, and I feel for every single one of you as you prepare to bid farewell to this year and usher in the next with as much hope as you can muster. Hope is such an easy word, but such a difficult thing to cling onto in the face of such adversity. Good luck, and God bless you.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

Four months

I'm officially over four months pregnant now, and I never fail to be amazed daily by what a huge blessing it is. We had another scan yesterday and were absolutely spellbound by the wriggling, healthy baby we saw on the scan! In fact the baby was moving so much the doctor couldn't get a clear image of it, so we're left with lots of vague pictures of shapes that may be a head/stomach/leg. Well, no matter, it's still there and it's healthy!

The only fly in the ointment was that I got told off by my doctor for managing to put on 3 kilos in the last 5 weeks (apparently 1.5 is ideal). Clearly all those fry-ups in Scotland were not the best thing! Whoops...

As is usual for me, I'm starting to get over excited about Christmas already. We're hopefully heading back to the UK for a week beforehand, which will be lovely. Christmas somehow wouldn't feel quite right without the requisite cold, miserable UK weather! Then we're back here just before the big day, and unfortunately my husband's been given a trip to the USA on the 23rd of December, flying back on Christmas day! A long way short of ideal.

We felt a bit down about it yesterday, but checked the loads out this morning and it looks like I have a more than fighting chance of getting on the flights. So, Christmas day in Business Class it is for me! This obviously isn't brilliant, but it does mean we get to spend Christmas Eve in the US together, and will both be home on Christmas day in time for an opening of presents and festive meal in the evening. Then we'll do our traditional Christmas lunch on Boxing Day!

If this had happened last year I think I'd have been devastated about it (given how much of a kid I am about Christmas) but to be honest, having seen our wonderful baby on the scan yesterday and realising that we really COULD be cradling a healthy child in our arms next May, nothing could dampen my spirits. Not even a rubbish Christmas roster!

"Us" time

We've just come back from a long trip to the UK, which included a very needed holiday for just the two of us. We realised recently that we haven't been on a "just the two of us" break since September last year, and since we'll be three next year, it seemed like we should make it a priority!

We started our break with a couple of weeks seeing family, which was vital. My husband and his father are still reeling from the death of my mother-in-law, so it was important for them to spend some time together. Sometimes I have no idea what to say to either of them, but I'm trying to help just by doing practical things, and just being there. Seeing them in so much pain is terrible.

It was during our time staying with his Dad that my husband said he planned to spring a surprise trip on me. I was very excited about this (as even our honeymoon was planned by us both!) and I expected it to be a couple of nights in London before our flight home. I was entirely wrong. It turned out to be what my husband entitled "The great pre-bump UK tour", and it was fabulous. We put in some serious miles on the hire car, and drove via my parents' lovely country home to the Lake District, then up to the Scottish Highlands and then on to Edinburgh. Believe it or not, I've never been to Scotland before (despite having travelled across the world many times!) so this was a great opportunity, and the sort of trip it would be very tricky to do with a baby in tow.

We had a wonderful, relaxed time taking in the fantastic scenery and immense breakfasts (whoops). The picture above was taken during our drive through the Lakes - amazing to actually be at the end of a rainbow! (Sadly we didn't find a pot of gold).

Pregnancy wise, things are going well, we hope. We had the 12 week scan before we headed back to the UK, and everything looked ok so far. I'm now 15 weeks and I'm really starting to show. Several people we don't know, like people working in shops, have noticed, and that makes it all seem wonderfully real! There's really no hiding it now, even if I wanted to. I've invested in some maternity clothes, taking advantage of the fact that the UK shops were selling off their summer stock when I was home - hooray! Definitely a benefit of living in a country where the sun shines every day!

Symptoms wise, I have an itchy tummy (which I assume is the skin stretching?), heartburn, occasional muscle pain around my stomach (which I think is round ligament pain), a dodgy back, and I still need to pee ALL the time! Brilliant.

My husband is being fantastic about the pregnancy, more than I could ever have hoped. He's read all the books (and seems to know more facts than me!) and is incredibly supportive, which is so vital when you live so far away from home and you're feeling hormonally emotional.

Of course, I'm already worried that my husband will just have taken off for a long-haul trip to the US just as I go into labour... I'm thinking of asking a friend to be a stand-by birthing assistant. Does anyone who's been there have any advice?

Pregnant pause

I apologise for my somewhat lax blogging over the last few months. There has actually been a reason for this...




Yes, you read that correctly! After our long, painful struggle with infertility, my husband and I have been blessed with a little bit of magic. I'm now 12 weeks pregnant, and everything looks ok so far, although I've been incredibly nervous throughout and will probably continue to be so.

Obviously we are over the moon, but as you will know if you read my blog regularly, my husband is recently bereaved, so things have been very difficult for us both over the last couple of months. We found out we were expecting the week before my mother-in-law died, and told her about it, thank God. She was absolutely delighted.

I'd also like to add that, despite my pregnancy, I hope my friends who are still dealing with infertility will feel they can still come to me to talk about how they feel. I may be pregnant, but I will always remember how truly horrible it all is. I, more than most, will also completely understand if you want to stop following my blog. But, if you do decide to continue, I promise to be as sensitive to your feelings as I can.

Infertility can take over your life, and once you've experienced it, you never forget its effects. I'm praying you all have a happy outcome, whatever that may be.

And for me? Well, I'm not counting my chickens until I have our baby safe in my arms...