Looking At It, Not Seeing It

So, the twenty week scan...


We feel like old hands at this scan business now. This is the sixth we've had, including those with Olivia. They don't hold many fears really. The 20 week scan is AKA 'the anatomy scan'; where they check all the bits are there and developing normally; brain, face, spine, heart, stomach, bowel, kidneys and limbs. Given we've had the nuchal scan at the Fetal Medicine Centre, we're very confident that everything is okay. The baby is also kicking on a regular basis now - evening disco sessions are the norm - and this is another sign things are fine. Of course, it is still possible that something could go wrong.


The other thing they do at the 20 week scan is tell you - if you want to know - the sex of your baby. Well, we've already been given a good indication of what it is, so this isn't as exciting as maybe it could be.


We made a decision to bring Olivia along to the hospital with us. The appointment was at 10:35, which wasn't ideal as she's usually a bit tired and ready for her morning nap at about that sort of time, but we figured it shouldn't take too long and would be okay.


When we arrived at the car park, it was rather full and I had to drop K___ and Olivia and search for a space elsewhere. By the time I got in there, we barely had a couple of minutes before we got called. K___ lay down on the examination couch and exposed her belly ready for the operator to squirt on the jelly. I had Olivia out of her buggy and sitting on my lap. I pointed out the monitor and explained how she would be able to see a picture of 'mummy's baby' on the screen. It's difficult to know exactly how much she takes in. Sometimes she can follow reasonably complex instructions, or, by looking at something you've mentioned, indicate she understands words. We say to her, 'Where's Mummy's baby..?' and she'll lift K___'s top to show her tummy and pat it, but what actual understanding she has of what she's doing is debatable. I suspect not much. Something like the scan itself is a very abstract concept to grasp, and she seemed rather indifferent, it has to be said.


Actually, call it indifferent and fidgety. By this point, the operator had started the scan, and there was a picture on the monitor. I pointed at it and said to Olivia, 'There's Mummy's baby!', and for a few seconds she seemed interested. The quality of the scans seems to have improved significantly since Olivia's time. Either that, or the scanner at Southend hospital was pretty poor. Now, you can see an awful lot of information. Most clearly, I remember the clarity with which we could see the ribcage and the tiny toes of the baby's feet.


Unfortunately, the baby wasn't co-operating in terms of how it was lying, making it difficult for the operator to get some of the measurements she wanted. She had the head measurements, and was happy they accorded with the dates, and there were the right number of limbs but it wasn't possible to see all of the digits unless the baby moved, something it seemed singularly disinclined to do.


Meanwhile, Olivia kept arching her back so that I was having a hard time keeping her on my lap. If you've never fought a toddler that doesn't want to be held, you may be imagining that it would be quite easy to control them. No so. They're surprisingly strong and you have to be very careful that if you're attempting to restrain them, you don't accidentally bash them in the process. Anyway, after a few minutes fighting, I ended up putting her down, and she promptly went off and started opening the bins full of medical waste (just gloves and the like, not hypodermic needles) and generally being a bit of a handful.


And so, on to what is - bearing in mind we weren't greatly worried that there might be anything wrong - arguably the most interesting thing you find out... the sex! Now, we already think we know what it is, because when we went for the Nuchal, the scan operator had a look. We know it's not 100% guaranteed, but nevertheless, we're pretty certain we know the sex.


'That's right between the legs there,' said the operator. It has to be said that the angle made it a little difficult to make sense of what we were seeing. At one point I said, 'Isn't that...?' only to be told I was miles away from where I should have been looking.


'Well,' said the operator, 'I'm pretty certain it's a little girl.'

What?! A girl? No, it's a boy. We've been told it's a boy...

'Well, it's not one hundred percent certain, but I can see three white lines and that usually means a girl.'


I honestly have no preference what sex the baby is, but it was a bit of a curve ball. We had got used to the idea it was a boy. We'd even been calling it a boy's name and now we've got to adjust. Olivia, on the other hand, doesn't really seem bothered.

Oh Mummy, Daddy...

Down to Essex to see my ma and pa.

We've been holding off on seeing them for a few weeks, waiting for the all clear from the scans. It was all a bit up in the air until virtually the last minute. There was a possibility they would be in Suffolk, in Nana's holiday cottage, but this was all down to Nana herself. Nana is slowly fading away now, and she's become increasingly difficult for my mother to cope with. When K___ was pregnant with Olivia, back in May 2006, I wrote about how Nana was "quite dependant on daily visits from my mother and she's no longer the extremely bright, irreverent and creative woman I grew up with". Back then I was quite resigned to thinking she might not make it through to seeing Olivia born. At risk of demonstrating quite how poor my powers of perception are, I am very resigned to thinking she won't make it through to see the next one born, and to be honest, it will be a blessing.

... I'm getting ahead of myself.

The drive down was pretty easy - 2.5 hours on the nose, arriving just before lunch. Olivia slept for about two hours of it, which was great. We pulled up outside my parent's house and got her from her seat and K___ stood her in the street (it's a cul de sac), with the car shielding her from my parent's house, in case they were looking and put bunches in Olivia's hair. She looked very cute indeed!

Olivia seemed a bit wary of my folks at first. I suppose that at her age, she doesn't really have very strong bonds to my folks yet, though I'm sure they will come. After a few minutes, she was fine, pointing at the cat and pronouncing, 'Gat!' The dog seemed to phase her a little, but when you're that size, I guess a whippet is quite imposing, even if he's the soppiest thing on the planet. Poor Rex - he only wants to be friendly, and can't understand why we're not keen on him getting too near. It's particularly galling to him because he and the gat - sorry; cat - are best mates and he can't figure why she's allowed to go near Olivia and he isn't.

My mother served us lunch, then nipped over to Nana's to sort her lunch out. Nana's now completely dependant on my mother. When she got back, the conversation naturally (because everything is about her, maaaan) turned to Olivia. K___ had slipped me the scan pictures and when an appropriate comment - I'm afraid I can't recall what it was - I was able to say, 'Well, there's something we wanted to tell you...' and whip out the scan pictures. In an almost exact analogue of the last time, my mother said, 'You're not, are you..?' to K___, and we told them all about the scans and how we hadn't been up because we wanted to break the news officially etc.

My next job was to get hold of my brothers. Last time, I told E___ first, so this time I would tell C__. Except his phone was going to answering machine. So I told E___. E___ was in the middle of moving into a new property with his girlfriend, so I got straight to the point and kept it brief. He was delighted for us, naturally.

My mother was due to collect Nana at about four-ish, and K___ had arranged to meet some of her old pals from NCT (I'm sure she'll fill you in on this). My dad and I took the dog out for a wander, but it was clear his heart wasn't in it. Whippets get cold easily because they're such skinny buggers, and it was drizzling and windy and consequently, we didn't go far. However, it was while we were out that C__ called me back and I gave him the good news. I also had to apologise because we'd had a chat just a couple of days before, and the subject of babies had come up and I kind of hemmed and hawed about it and gave the impression it would be nice if it happened, but we weren't trying right now. He was delighted for us. His wife called out, 'Oh, leave your poor wife alone!' and then he tried to get me to say if we knew the sex.

We're not telling, and anyway, it's too soon to tell.

Not long after we arrived back home, so too did K___, and then my mother turned up with Nana. At first she seemed pretty good. She was engaging with Olivia, drumming on the table with her and laughing and smiling. She seemed pleased when we told her about the new baby and asked when it was going to be born and those kinds of questions. I asked her whether she'd ever imagined seeing great grandchildren when she was young and she laughed.

My mother was in kitchen preparing some tea and called out that it was nearly ready. I had turned from Nana for just a second or two but I quickly realised she wasn't quite right. All of a sudden the animation had gone from her. Where she'd been laughing and joking, she was just sitting stock still, staring in to space with a vacant expression on her face. I asked her whether she was feeling okay and she said, 'no,' in a very timid voice. That was it for the rest of the afternoon. The spark had died. We knew she got like this and that we normally only got to see her at her best, but this was the first time we'd seen it and it was pretty horrible.

I'm glad we got to see her, and I'm glad we got to tell her about the new baby, but I do have to be honest and say that if she doesn't live to see it born, it won't be a bad thing. I just wish she could slip away quietly one night.

In some ways, it seems wrong to be writing about death when this blog is about life, but we all know that death is what gives life its value, that our short lifespan makes it all the more important to enjoy our time.

Oh fuck it; I've gone all Disney, and Elton John's playing bloody Circle of Life in the background.

I really didn't mean for that to happen. I just mean that it's okay, it's natural, and I don't want Nana to think she has to hang on, for me, for my mother, or for the new baby. Not that she needs it, but she has our permission to go if she wants.

And you know, being a firm believer in evolution, there really is a part of her in her descendants. It's not a matter of belief - you could go and get tested for it. 'Mitochondrial Nana'. Even if she never sees the new baby, she's still around. I find that an incredibly, genuinely, happy thought.

My Eyes Remain, Hovering. Witnessing.

So, it's Wednesday, 16th April, 2008. Olivia is fifteen months old to the day. I have a dentist's appointment at midday, which I'm really not looking forward to. Nothing special going on otherwise.

Oh - unless you count the 12 week scan at the local hospital. Yeah, I should probably write about that.

We turned up in good time. I haven't been nervous. I've been very calm about the whole thing, but on the short drive down, the butterflies kicked in. Not big ones, but they were there.

The parking meter at the hospital is stupid. Or I am. It's completely counter-intuitive. I know how to get a parking ticket from the machine. You read the rates, insert the groats, hit the tit and wait for the ticket, right? You certainly do not read the instructions, but after a couple of goes, this is what I am forced to do. I know; my 'bloke rating' has plummeted.

You have to 'enter your car registration'. There is a numeric keypad. My registration contains alpha characters. The keypad does not, like a telephone keypad, also have numbers on it. I decide to try entering just the numerals. It seems to like them. I get a ticket. Normally, I would walk away moaning about the stupidity of the machine. Today, I throw my hands up as I walk back to K___, and mention it's stupid, but keep it to just that.

The maternity unit is the brick version of a Borg cube. Minus the scary hive-mind androids and super-advanced tech everywhere. Actually, it's just a rather featureless cuboid, but that doesn't sound as poetic. Inside, it's a pretty run-of-the-mill NHS hospital unit. Bland paint on the walls, lots of faintly terrifying health-related notifications and posters on the walls.

While signing in, a wonderfully quick process, it was pointed out to us that we would need to purchase a card from a machine on the wall to exchange for copies of the scans. Only problem? It takes five pounds in coins. I'm not having a good time with machines. We didn't have five pounds in coins, so I borrow a tenner from K___ and leg it to the other side of the building and up a fight of stairs, buy a packet of crisps purely for the change and run back.

Unlike the first time we did this, nearly two years ago now, luck decides to play nicely, and I'm back in time to buy the card and sit down for a couple of minutes getting my breath back before we get called into the scan room. K___ lies down on the couch and pulls her skirt below the bottom of the baby bump. Having done this before, she knows that an elasticated waistband is an essential. She's also had enough to drink to ensure the best picture - a three quarter's full bladder greatly increases the clarity. The scan operator, a surly human/potato hybrid with terrible highlights, squirts gel onto K___'s stomach and places the ultrasound on her belly.

Here we go...

Of course, there's a momentary pang of terror. What if the baby has no head or three legs or something? These things do happen, after all. The fear's stupid and statistically irrational and it's gone before you quite know what it is you're scared about, but it is there until the moment the scan goes sufficiently deeply inside K___'s belly for a baby to appear. It's lying louchly on it's back, facing left, arms waving theatrically. All of a sudden, I'm an expert. Everything is in it's right place. It's fine. I don't know this, but from the perspective of someone with fuck all training in reading an ultrasound scan, it is immediately apparent that everything is fine. Eventually, Mrs Potato-head will get around to confirming my obviously-correctly medical opinion by doing some measurements. She will sound entirely bored when she does indeed confirm my diagnosis. Everything is fine. We have a healthy baby, and an active one too, by the looks of things.

My eyes prick with tears.

After this, we have to sit for forty minutes waiting for a nurse to take a urine sample and some blood (not at the same time, don't be ridiculous!) from K___. We gaze at the grainy snaps before us and smile.

Now She Won't Believe Me

Yesterday, I sat opposite my friend L___ and stuck labels onto envelopes for the band fan club I help out with. We nattered about various things over the course of the day and one of them was babies. Specifically baby number 2.

This is an apology to L___ for the fact that I lied my head off yesterday.

It's an apology for the fact that when I was asked whether we'd want to have a second baby anytime soon, I forgot to mention that K___ was pregnant again.

This is also an apology for the fact that I said I didn't know if we'd do a blog for baby 2. I do know, and if you've read it, L___, you'll even know I practically quoted some of it at you.

So, basically, I'm a bad man whose word isn't to be trusted. Luckily, I don't believe in hell, so no chances of eternal punishment. Just have to watch out for the lady I lied to.

Welcome Back to the Circus

It's very weird. Weird and slightly unfair.

Sorry? What is? Well, this whole having a baby thing. We're so relaxed about it this time round. Last time, we were filling our brains with every book and website we could read. This time, we're chilled out. We know the score. K_ has booked a Nuchal scan. It wasn't a worry, because we knew what needed doing, and what it was about and where to go. If K_'s right to say that it's harder because we already have Olivia to cope with, well that's true, but it's equally true to say it's so much easier this time. Every sensation K_ has, she knows what it is.

Last time, a few people interpreted our lust for information as fear about what was happening. It wasn't, it was a genuine hunger to understand. But you can only understand it once. Once you know, you know, and that's what's slightly unfair.

We did a daily blog for Olivia, full of our observations and what we'd learned etc. M2 won't get that. Not because M2 is less interesting or less wanted or less deserving, but because Olivia has already demolished those barriers. I suppose this happens throughout life; certainly throughout childhood. Eldest child has to fight for every inch of ground, later children never have to fight as hard if at all. It's not fair, but it's inevitable, I suppose.

And Rest Your Heavy Head My Love

Well, there's no sleep for the wicked...or those with sicky one year olds. Baby O was leaking at both ends this weekend and constantly crying and grizzling and so Mummy didn't get much rest. Period is now 9 days overdue and symptoms are starting. I start to remember just how much I hated being pregnant the first time :)

Will You Sleep at Night

This isn't going to be as easy (!?!) as it was the first time. Last time I was pregnant I could roll in from work and collapse on the sofa. Now I have an active 13 month old who DOES NOT want to sleep in her own bed. Between my starfish hubbie and my starfish baby (like father like daughter) I get about a square inch of bed to sleep in. It still hasn't really sunk in that I am pregnant again but as I think about it abstractly I realise that this is going to be a lot more demanding, given the hectic family and work life we have now. There are plus points though; this time there will be no 80 mile round trips to work, standing up on public transport because the larger I got the more invisible I became to business men.

We were chatting about it earlier and one reason I think it all feels different is that last time we were soooooo ridiculously over-excited that from day 1 we were reading books and looking things up on the Internet to find out everything about the pregnancy. This time we are kind of at a loss of what to do at this point as I am fairly sure things haven't changed THAT much in the 13 months since we had Olivia. I think this time I will have to wait till I physically start feeling pregnant until it really sinks in. I only just remembered this evening to look up when the due date will be - 30th October as it happens. Maybe I should hang on that extra day and then take M2 'trick or treating' :)