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!
Tuesday, 5 January 2010
Friday, 1 January 2010
Aviation security under the spotlight, AGAIN...
Gordon Brown's announcement today that the UK will "move quickly" to enhance airport security strikes me as shutting the door after the horse has bolted. Aviation security is always reactionary - locking flight deck doors after 9/11, banning large bottles of liquids after the transatlantic liquid bomb plot. Now, we have various kneejerk measures including a ban on leaving your seat in the last hour of flight (?!) How on earth that's supposed to stop a determined terrorist, I have NO idea. But it would be hell for pregnant ladies like me, I can tell you!
No, what needs to happen now should have happened years ago. We need to get rid of our feelings of prudishness and a slightly skewed interpretation of human rights, and bring in body scanners and passenger profiling at every airport.
I know that some people feel that body scanners invade our privacy, but really, I feel the security benefit and lack of hassle involved far outweighs the unease some feel about others seeing what they look like under their clothes. And as my Dad says, it will be worse for the person checking the scans than for him! In all seriousness, the scanning technology currently being trialed in the UK at Manchester Airport involves technicians in totally separate rooms with no view of the security area merely flagging up issues to their colleages on the ground if necessary. Therefore they have no idea who they're looking at on these scans, and even if they did, how quickly would they get bored? At some point during the first day, I bet. After all, we're all pretty similar underneath! And when you consider how useless a metal detector is against today's terrorists (they don't tend to favour grenades and knives these days) I think body scanners represent the only realistic way forward, whether you're offended by them or not. And just think for a second.. No need to take off your belt and shoes, no need for a pat down... I know which option I'd prefer!
And as for passenger profiling - this has been largely shunned due to fears that certain sectors of society will feel victimised by it. But without getting into statistics here, lone male travellers and people of particular faiths and lifestyle (which of course depends on the motive for terrorism at a particular time) have been shown to be the greatest risk. What's so wrong with asking a few extra questions? True, determined bombers could try to get round this by, God forbid, bringing their families with them, etc, but it's worth a try. I think most people would be prepared to put up with a little extra hassle if it makes them safer.
So, that's what I think. Clearly my view is influenced by the fact that my husband flies planes for a living, and that I'm a frequent flyer myself.
What do you think?
No, what needs to happen now should have happened years ago. We need to get rid of our feelings of prudishness and a slightly skewed interpretation of human rights, and bring in body scanners and passenger profiling at every airport.
I know that some people feel that body scanners invade our privacy, but really, I feel the security benefit and lack of hassle involved far outweighs the unease some feel about others seeing what they look like under their clothes. And as my Dad says, it will be worse for the person checking the scans than for him! In all seriousness, the scanning technology currently being trialed in the UK at Manchester Airport involves technicians in totally separate rooms with no view of the security area merely flagging up issues to their colleages on the ground if necessary. Therefore they have no idea who they're looking at on these scans, and even if they did, how quickly would they get bored? At some point during the first day, I bet. After all, we're all pretty similar underneath! And when you consider how useless a metal detector is against today's terrorists (they don't tend to favour grenades and knives these days) I think body scanners represent the only realistic way forward, whether you're offended by them or not. And just think for a second.. No need to take off your belt and shoes, no need for a pat down... I know which option I'd prefer!
And as for passenger profiling - this has been largely shunned due to fears that certain sectors of society will feel victimised by it. But without getting into statistics here, lone male travellers and people of particular faiths and lifestyle (which of course depends on the motive for terrorism at a particular time) have been shown to be the greatest risk. What's so wrong with asking a few extra questions? True, determined bombers could try to get round this by, God forbid, bringing their families with them, etc, but it's worth a try. I think most people would be prepared to put up with a little extra hassle if it makes them safer.
So, that's what I think. Clearly my view is influenced by the fact that my husband flies planes for a living, and that I'm a frequent flyer myself.
What do you think?
Tuesday, 29 December 2009
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.
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.
Monday, 21 December 2009
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
BlogCatalog
Posts
