10

Blob the Drama Llama

With thanks to Sam for the title!

So I ended the last post with thanks for all the support I’d received from the big day of anxiety but it didn’t stop there! I spent 45 minutes at the Day Assessment Unit at the Queen Elizabeth having Blob’s heartbeat and movements monitored. She hadn’t really moved anywhere near as much as I would have expected her to in a good 48 hours and as the wise twitterati advised to get her checked and Paul pretty much handed me my clothes, it was a good idea to be checked over and find out what was going on. As soon as the midwife put the belly bands and monitors on my tummy, she started flailing around, desperately trying to kick the monitors off and trying to wriggle away from the doppler. Luckily it wasn’t busy so I was seen very quickly and the midwife didn’t laugh when I was all sheepish at the amount of effort that madam was putting into walloping the monitors. Nice to be taken seriously!

With D-Day roughly two months off, we have some photos of Blob thanks to the 4D scans. This is the re-scan from the end of September that was moved to the end of October and then rescheduled for today due to a broken scanner. Straight off she’s moved so hardly surprising that I’d felt a change in movement- she’s now got her face turned towards the left-hand side of my ribcage, so the right side of her body is matching the right side of mine and her bum towards my pelvis. Heart was fine (I panicked when I couldn’t see it but the sonographer was happy!) She was asleep, with her face turned slightly towards my spine and it took a lot of belly jiggling, going to empty my bladder and jumping around to get her to wake up and turn! When she did, she pulled the grumpiest face as if she was going to cry and stuck her foot up by the left-hand side of her face!!! Gradually, she made faces as if she was smiling and sticking her tongue out but goodness, is she Paul’s daughter! Hard to wake, grumpy when woken and features-wise she really looks like him!

So here she is, my little drama llama being just as awkward and stubborn as her parents.

The foot by the face shot-definitely got mum's flexibility-dad's hamstrings barely go into a sitting position!

The foot by the face shot-definitely got mum’s flexibility-dad’s hamstrings barely go into a sitting position!

You buggers have woken me up? Right, now I create hell!

You buggers have woken me up? Right, now I create hell!

Mouth open, eyes open!

Mouth open, eyes open!

Is that a grin or gas?

Is that a grin or gas?

Chubby cheeks

Chubby cheeks

Can I go back to sleep now please?

Can I go back to sleep now please?

I would recommend having it done as I feel like she’s really coming now. That’s our little girl. Paul couldn’t help but gasp when he saw her and the pride I felt when I heard him do that was incredible.

We’re almost there. T-9weeks!

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6

The moment where I shouted, “Help!”

Let’s get things straight, panic is nothing new for me. I have panicked since I was a very little girl about everything and if you have met me you’d probably laugh and say, “Don’t be daft! You are one of the most confident and cheerful people I’ve ever met!”

The thing is it isn’t that simple. I’m a bloody good actress- my coping strategy is to be a hard-working ray of sunshine and I’ve pulled this off for years. There is a level of professionalism too- I cannot allow my job to be damaged by my mental health as when working with kids, it’s never a good idea to have a panic attack mid-lesson with a group of 5 year olds. Today, that very nearly happened- thankfully, there were no kids around as I was on PPA but I sat at my desk and had a bit of a breakdown.

I think I’ve been cruising for a bruising for a while. For a start, I have meant to update here more often as I’ve hit major landmark dates but I’ve felt words slipping out of my grip. *ALERT* MAJOR SIGN THAT THINGS ARE BUILDING UP */ALERT* 28 Weeks has been and gone. 29 weeks, I didn’t do a bump pic. The scary Time Team meeting hasn’t been documented (five or six mental health care professionals/midwives/obstetric consultants in a consulting room and me. FUCKING TERRIFYING). The first NCT group this week where I was questioned on my breast feeding ideology…

My bounciness is also to hide my sheer level of paranoia as well. I have a wild imagination and am very prone to anti-fantasies. So what actually happens is not what I feel I have experienced at the time. A good example of this is my 14 week check with the obstetrician where she told me that she couldn’t hear a heartbeat and I needed a scan. The thing is what she actually said was, “I can’t hear a heartbeat but it’s because the baby is moving away from the monitor every time I press the doppler on your stomach. Don’t worry, even though I can see you are. We will scan you so that you feel more confident as I don’t want you to go home and panic about this.” To me, the lack of heartbeat was game over. So yes, what actually happens and what I think is the case are not the same thing!

Over half term, we started on the nursery. Bit of a disaster- the emulsion we used on the walls bubbled the paint underneath so we ended (read as Paul did the majority) up stripping the paint off. Even though Paul was here, we worked like trojans last week trying to get as much done as possible. This meant that we barely had five minutes together as we were running around like headless chickens trying to get everything done. If you follow me on instagram, you’ll know how far we’ve got- i.e. not very. I have a big box of stuff for the nursery- cushions, wall stickers, bumpers, quilts to start making it pretty but they are all wrapped in plastic waiting for a nursery that is a mile off being done. Don’t get me wrong, I’d much rather that I’d be in this pickle with the nursery and be getting stressed by the lack of progress than not be in the position of being able to start making one!

We were also going to go and get all the big bits for the Blobster with my mum from the dreaded John Lewis. I’ve written about my bad times with JL and coincidences with mcs and how much I hate having to walk through the fucking kids section to get into the cafe (those of you who have been to Bluewater will get this!). However due to the rush and my mum going on holiday, this wasn’t able to happen so still no pram/ cot/ changing table/ wardrobe/ changing bag.

During half term, we were also meant to go and see Blob for the re-scan after she went all shy at 24 weeks and didn’t want to show us her face. On Wednesday, at 9pm, I got a call from the clinic to say that the scanner was broken and they wouldn’t be able to scan me. They were very good and managed to fit me in this Saturday whereas normally they wouldn’t re-scan on a weekend.

My mum and step-dad have popped back down to Devon with Harvey, their springer, pointer cross. He’s very active and as I’ve mentioned before, Hattie, their basset, is very elderly and has dementia so isn’t really fit for going for cross terrain walks and long dinners in pubs. We’ve had her stay several times now- one of the times she taught Max how to break into other people’s gardens through broken fences (bassets are notorious Houdinis). My step dad dropped her off last Friday along with a beautiful free crib we’ve been given by a friend of a friend.

So the week didn’t start too badly. She went a few days without accidents and managed her tablets well and I started back at work on Monday. Got into work and found that the massive amount of work I had done for school had been lost. I had a meeting that evening with senior leadership and was utterly terrified that it would reflect badly. I told the head and whilst she wasn’t impressed, the people who run the online application explained to her that it had probably saved to my home browser (who knew that was a thing?!)- thankfully it was there when I finally turned on my computer at 10pm that night and I was able to save them all on word documents.

So Tuesday came around and after a big meeting to fill in more of the form, I then hotfooted it to Blackheath to make the first NCT group meeting (parent craft). I don’t think I had really allowed myself to process the thought of going to these sessions and found it much harder than I thought I would. It was quite overwhelming and difficult- all these smiling pregnant people (or so it seemed- remember, I am an unreliable narrator like Stevens in Remains of the Day) and their happy partners. After spending so long staying away from pregnant people as if they had the plague, I’m sat in a room full of them! Was also expecting to need to hit that cancellation before having to actually attend them. It also finished at almost a quarter to ten so very late when I’d been up at half five, done a full day of phonological assessments of Year 6 kids and that bloody form!

That night, Hattie got me up two hours before my alarm with her squeaking. I think she forgets what time it is and freaks when she wakes in an unfamiliar place. I went down and did the thing where you don’t interact with them and just do the thing they require and leave them again, so I opened the back door, let the dogs out, refilled their water and went back to bed. This was then repeated last night as well- so each night I’ve had about 3-4hours sleep.

This morning, it all just hit me. I came down to Hattie and she’d had several accidents. I felt groggy and the panic was rising- I struggle with body fluids other than blood. Blood I can deal with- guts hanging out- all that jazz but not vomit or wee. Poo is fine outside but not in the house otherwise I’m gag city. She’d only done a couple of wees but I struggled to clear it up and basically freaked out. How am I going to be able to cope with a baby who does nothing but cry, wee and poo all times of the day and night if I can’t cope with a basset with dementia?

So after Paul woke up and looked after me, making me a tea and getting me to sit down before I left for work. He asked whether I should be going in- apparently I said that I had an important meeting and had to be there rather than made any comment on how I was feeling. After saying how rough I was feeling, I had a wave of support from the gorgeous twitterati who gave me the facts about maternity rights and just generally cheered me on my way to work. I got in quite a lot later than I normally do, went to the meeting and was fine until I went into the art room and shut the door. Everything went very swirly and I couldn’t really work out what to do and I knew it was a panic attack. Before it got too big, I managed to search out the number for my midwife (a mental health specialist) who calmly talked me down. She asked me to ring Paul(I had no intention of ringing him-he had his own work to do), told me that she’d visit in the evening and that if it got worse, I was to go to A&E for an assessment. She also talked me into speaking to my Head.

I was terrified of talking to her. A few weeks previous, I’d been asked to go in and have an informal chat about all the days I’d missed through sickness (most were explained by maternity or the time she’d already agreed  for me to go to Canada) so I was worried about saying that I needed some time out. I needed have worried. I walked in, red eyed and shaking like a leaf-she was busy trying to organise learning walks with outside agencies but she instantly dropped that, sat me down and rang Paul. She then took me for a quick walk in the park to try and get my breathing calmer which did work quite well and she told me how awful her post natal depression had been. It was so good to hear that actually someone had made it out the other side and was a successful head with two healthy children. I felt a bit ridiculous making such a fuss and pulling people’s attention away from their work but both my Head and Paul kept telling me off for apologising.

Once we got home, I was banished to the sofa and made to rest whilst Paul bustled round with drinks, cleaning and turned on bad tv for me. He then sat with me for a bit stroking my hair and asking about what I fancied doing tomorrow (he’s taken tomorrow off too to make sure I’m ok), asking about perhaps getting things together for my hospital bag and organising what times he’d work on in the nursery. I then fell fast asleep and slept for a couple of hours solidly until I woke up shivering (all the windows and doors were open to dry the floors that Paul had washed!) about five minutes before Paul and Max came back from the woods. We then sat watching early Friends episodes before the midwife turned up at 5ish. When she came, Paul got busy making drinks in the kitchen so I could chat to her by myself. He then came in later and gave his view of what happened and said, “I’m so glad that Kirstie rang me and that I’m here to hear  some of what Sarah’s saying to you as I know she wouldn’t have said how bad she was feeling to me.” I felt really bad then. I try not to bother people with my level of crazy but I hadn’t realised that I’d been bottling things up so badly.

I also sobbed when I said how hard I’d found the NCT classes. My midwife said that she can do one to one sessions to alleviate my stress levels but I feel like I’ve owned up to my fear aloud now and Paul has heard it so he can help me in the next session and I can be a bit more aware of how I’m feeling. A little kinder to myself instead of trying to just bury everything.

So the deal right now is for me to be off work tomorrow to catch up with some sleep and ring the local mental health services to see what their phone assessment comes out as. I have a psych appointment as a result of the fucking scary mental health assessment last month next week and the midwife wants to check in with me to make sure I’m doing ok. If I’m not doing great by then, the idea is to start a course of fluoxetine to start to pick up my mood and make it a little easier to cope. Apparently it’s fine in pregnancy and if I breastfeed so no issues there.

I am feeling very grateful and am utterly overwhelmed by the love and support I’ve had from Paul, my twitter family, my Head and my midwife. I fell to pieces a bit today but everyone made sure I was glued back together pretty quickly. Thank you x