You might remember last month, I got the news at my 20 week scan about a possible complication with my pregnancy.
A clunky, unfriendly sounding condition I had never heard of and could barely pronounce.
It hung over my pregnancy like a dark cloud. I spent the four weeks after that scan worried, scared, angry, sad and confused. I didn’t take a breath, my life was on perpetual pause.
It was the waiting that was the worst part. The endless hours and days until the next scan stretched out in front of me with nothing but worry and unanswered questions.
Scrutinising every movement from the baby, or every time there wasn’t movement. Looking at my bump in the mirror wondering was it growing enough, was I too small for the number of weeks? Was it because my placenta was letting this baby down? Was I failing this baby before it was even born?
What if the baby didn’t grow? What if I had a placental abruption, what if I was told to take bed rest while I have a toddler to take care of? How would I manage? What if I had to deliver really early?
All of these things and more swirled around my head for four full weeks as I tried to go through the motions of normality. I still had work to do, dinners to make, drop offs and collections to do. Life still had to go on. I still had to be normal mammy for my little dude.
I won’t lie.
It was incredibly hard. All the joy was sucked out of my pregnancy. It became this ‘condition’ instead of a growing baby. And any woman who’s had a similar situation of being told to wait and come back for a scan will know exactly what I’m talking about.
So last week the day came for the scan. On the outside I was together, inside I was terrified.
I walked into my consultant’s office and we had the scan.
The news was good.
The baby was measuring exactly to my dates, lots of fluid. The consultant then looked at the placenta and was quite satisfied that for now it was fine. He even showed it to me on the scan and it looked as though it hadn’t turned in on itself, as would be the case with the condition.
Relief poured into every part of my body. I couldn’t quite believe what he was saying.
He told me that he wasn’t overly concerned, that everything was looking good. That I should stop torturing myself with worry.
I walked out of the office and felt all the weight of worry fly away from my shoulders. I felt like I could smile again, like I could once again celebrate my growing bump, that I could now enjoy my pregnancy… as though it had been given back to me.
I’ll still need close monitoring, in fact my next scan will be another ‘big scan’ and I’ll have to have these alternately until I deliver.
In a sense I’ll still be living from scan to scan, but in many ways most of us do. What’s important is that the really dark clouds threatening my pregnancy have dissipated and I am hoping with each scan that the skies get clearer.