Here we go, again!

Now you may be wondering what I mean by this considering we spend a fair amount of our free time camping in the bush…This however is not about our latest camping adventure but rather another “life” adventure.

As a disclaimer, there are a number of triggers in this relating to pregnancy loss and pregnancy after loss so feel free to not continue reading…I completely understand.

If you have read my previous post The bereaved parent’s club you will already have an idea about my struggles with fertility and recurrent pregnancy loss. You will also know my child has wanted a sibling for the longest time and this has not been on the cards.

Given my age, the term geriatric mother is thrown around like confetti on a wedding day and in 2021 I decided to see the fertility specialists. Part of me was hoping there would be some magical solution, however with 1 tube and 38 years old, I knew the chances would be slim. The thing is, we hold on to hope and hope is relentless!

The tests revealed I had very low AMH (Anti Mullerian Hormone). In layman’s terms, fewer eggs and highly unlikely that I would respond to any treatment. I was told that I’d have a much better chance falling pregnant using donor eggs.

Well, there you have it. Nothing more to be done. I was asked to go for a second opinion, however the idea of getting more “bad news” to confirm what I already knew was not something I really wanted to expose myself to. I just wanted to close this chapter and move on. I wanted off the rollercoaster.

I’d come to terms with Julia being an only child and it was a bitter pill to swallow.

Fast forward to January 2022. I felt off…a familiar off feeling. The universe clearly has a sick sense of humour. I was finally mentally ready to get rid of all the remaining baby items that still take up space in my home but a positive pregnancy test put that on the back burner. So many questions. How on earth was this possible? Was it another ectopic? Would I miscarry again? I went into overdrive and was riddled with anxiety. I’d gone for 2 blood tests to confirm the levels were rising as they should but still I was not settled.

Sadly, it did not progress. The panic led me to Medfem where they did a scan and there was no evidence that anything had implanted. Thanks, universe, for once again giving me hope and then yanking the rug right out from under my feet.

We were scheduled to go to Umzolozolo for our anniversary trip and there were a few tears and some big emotions. The trip was just what I needed.

Of course this set me back with getting rid of said remaining baby items and I vividly remember a session with my psychologist where I was balling my eyes out because I knew I needed to get rid of them but the thought of it gave me such overwhelming and crippling anxiety.

We decided that for the moment, putting these items in storage would likely be the best option.

I started a new job and never got round to investigating storage solutions. Instead, I just moved them to a room in the house that I very seldomly go into and being out of sight, it was out of mind.

I started settling into the new role, slowly coming to terms with the need to declutter my home of all the baby gear that had been occupying this "space". The “burden” was lifting and my heart was getting lighter. Julia even seemed to have come to terms with being an only child.

Given the chances were incredibly slim, when that familiar out of sorts feeling arrived in early August 2022, I was incredibly skeptical…probably another chemical pregnancy, nothing to get too excited about. So, I waited until I was about 10 days late before doing a home pregnancy test. The result– I didn’t really need the clearblue test to tell me what I already knew…POSITIVE.

Cue denial, but I also knew I needed to be proactive to ensure this was not another ectopic. So, after a few blood tests to confirm.

1. I was pregnant and

2. The levels were increasing as they should, I paid Medfem a visit.

I was immediately put on Ecotrin, Cortisone and Beriglobin (bi-weekly). I had to go for scans every 2 weeks and only after my 8 week scan did I tell my husband, who unsurprisingly was as shocked as I was.

The nausea was relentless – all day, all night and there was NOTHING that would settle it. Sour worms didn’t quite hit the mark but they were the only thing that helped, marginally.

At the time of writing this post, we are 36 weeks in and the Ostrich head in the sand is no longer an option. With delivery date less than 3 weeks away, I am equally grateful and terrified. I can’t quite believe how quickly the time has passed and that we are here already.

I have been taking it day by day for so long during this pregnancy that the impending reality of breastfeeding, diapers, sleepless nights, endless newborn cuddles is quite literally around the corner has kind of snuck up on me.

The reality that our Julia Grace’s world is about to be rocked and we must try make that transition as smooth as possible is terrifying. I think the most frightening thing for me is making sure she knows there is more than enough love to go around for the both of them. The thing with anxiety is you know you are being irrational, however you aren't able to reason with your "inner Karen".

This pregnancy has been easier in some ways, but harder in others. We chose to keep this quiet – I don’t do well with sharing my private life and even less so when it comes to pregnancy, while there has been healing, that scar tissue remains.

Easier in that I have felt much calmer and more at ease – this is largely due to remaining on my anxiety meds, which are safe to take during pregnancy. I am wiser and the “baggage” has assisted. I have kept my circle close, only telling people when I felt ready – there was a clear boundary set that I would only surround myself with those that did not make my anxiety worse. I am wiser and have avoided people and situations that trigger my anxiety, and I am so proud of not feeling guilty about that…

I have also only made 1 trip to the hospital for a NST – only because there was a bout of gastro doing the rounds in our house. By this stage with my pregnancy with Julia I had already been in hospital twice and booked on bed rest.

It’s also been harder. I am 5, almost 6 years older than I was when I was pregnant with Julia. I don’t have the same energy levels. I have a 5 year old that needs to be taken to school and extra murals and needs her mom. She’s also brought home so many germs from the petri dish that is school, and I can’t fight them off as quickly, nor can I take any (decent) medication to make it go away. I think I have had some form of flu or a cold at least 4 times this pregnancy – I don’t think I had it once while pregnant with Julia.

The thing with being pregnant after loss (multiple losses) is you don’t allow yourself to get excited, to explore the idea of bringing this new life into the world because you’ve experienced that unimaginable pain. You hold your breath for the duration of your pregnancy, whether it be 6,12, 20 or 40 weeks and even after your little one joins you earthside.

But, as you near the end you allow yourself to exhale, even if just a little, as the finish line is in sight.

So, I guess this is me exhaling…we are beyond grateful for this miracle child and we are eagerly awaiting your arrival earthside.