Wednesday, 25 January 2012

#OneBorn Every Minute #Conception

I was in two minds whether to write on this week’s prompt from Netmums and One Born Every Minute.
Some stories just border on being too personal.
Some experiences are more heartwrenching than I can comprehend. And my experience pales into insignificance.
And yet, at the same time, for some people it is understanding the range of experiences that can help.

My experience was not as ‘easy’ as some, and yet so much ‘easier’ than others.
The OH and I had been together for three or four years. We had just got engaged. And we decided we did want children in our future. I was just about to start back at uni, and things hadn’t been going so well as work. It seemed like there would never be a good time, and so this was as good a time as any.
We told a couple of close friends.
Roll on six months, our friends diplomatically stopped enquiring as to ‘our progress’.
Roll on twelve months, it had gotten too much. I, on occasion, had thought myself pregnant and investing in test kits, only to be brought down to earth with a bump. The whole thing was too stressful.
I looked at my dates in the diary, and found that there was no pattern.
I went to the doctors, tests were done.
The odds were presented (is ‘odds’ the right word, it felt like it was, I think it is offered as ‘the statistics of becoming pregnant’).
The only advice that could be given was to let nature take its course.  I am not sure what they thought we had been doing for the last year.
I wasn’t sure where I could take that advice.

So, it went into a compartment, you know the ones in your head, that fall into the ‘too difficult to deal with’ category.
I got on with my MBA, got promoted at work, and as a ‘two fingers’ to our predicament, I celebrated the promotion by *wisely* investing in a convertible.

Some months later, I realised that my diary dates had not only got more random, but after following a pattern for two months, they had completely disappeared.
Oh, how some days I question the intelligence that is meant to exist between my ears.
A trip to the midwife, and a dating scan that weekend established that I was nine weeks pregnant.
You see, my random body ‘doesn’t do’ morning sickness.
When I looked back over my Facebook posts (see there is benefit in updating your status!) I realised how much I had referred to how tired I was.

Seren was born seven(ish) months later. I was warned by the midwife that it probably wouldn’t take me so long to conceive next time (Note to self: take a midwife’s advice on board).
My dissertation was due on my due date.
Seren attended my graduation.

Roll on plans for baby number 2, we decided we should get married first- otherwise we never would, wedding plans were put in place, Seren turned 1.
And I threw all advice received out of the window- it hadn’t helped the first time (had it?!).
We originally decided to start trying after our wedding, but I ran out of patches two months prior to the wedding. And going to the doctors for more was seemingly pointless (“just to get a two month prescription”) I came to appreciate that midwives know a lot more about repeat pregnancies than me.
On our honeymoon I started to have ‘that’ tiredness- the tiredness that no amount of sleep gets rid of.
The second week I was convinced I was pregnant.
The day we got home I sent ‘my husband’ (I could say that now!) to get a testing kit.
We booked an appointment with the midwife. We got an appointment for a dating scan.

It seemed body had decided my difficulty in conceiving the first time should be over-compensated for the second time.
And seven months later our non-ID twin boys were welcomed to the world.             

This post is written as part of the Netmums linky for One Born Every Minute.

4 comments:

  1. A lovely post - glad you shared it. x

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    1. Thank you Kate. The blog prompts were really good, and brought back so many wonderful memories. x

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  2. Lovely post and reminds me of myself in some ways. Not the difficulty to conceive, but 2 unsuccessful pregnancies followed by non id bous also - body making up for it!

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    1. Life does have a wonderful way of working itself out. x

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