This week has been better, I treated myself to some lash extensions on Monday, the first thing I think I've done for myself in a long time. That's not because I didn't want to, but deep down I've kind of felt that I don't deserve it, that because of what's happened, I shouldn't be allowing myself to feel better. I guess that's what grief does to you, makes you feel that you CAN'T do anything that will make you smile, because of the guilt. That I shouldn't be happy, or feeling good about myself, when just 3 months ago my baby died.
I also went to the library today, I went to a knitting group, and I'm glad to say, I can actually knit now! I met some lovely ladies who really made me feel welcome, and it's beginning to come evident that I don't connect with people my age anymore. But, actually doing something completely out of my comfort zone, was a good thing, and although I'm not entirely sure that I will be returning, I did it. And I have to take the small wins.
The 25th August was my 20 week scan, my husband told me he might not be able to come, so, instead my mum was going to come with me. I stayed at my parents the night before, and I remember saying to my dad "what if there is something wrong with the baby" and him replying "don't be silly, the baby will be fine".
Fortunately, he did come, even if he was 20 minutes late. The midwife had a cancellation so was able to wait for him (thank GOD), and in the waiting area I had the whooping cough vaccine. The two ladies there were so lovely, telling me about how they've known each other for years, after working on the same maternity ward 20 years before.
I was so excited to find out the gender of the baby, that the time in the waiting area felt like a lifetime, like I was going old and grey in those long 20 minutes.
My husband FINALLY walked through the door, with that smile on his face, the smile that made me marry him.
We went into the scan, excited to see our baby on the screen, and there they were all snug in my womb, happy, loved and safe. The sonographer was in training, and she was doing the measurements, of course, we had no idea, but he looked fine. She said she was finding it hard to find the end of his spinal cord, so I got up had a wee and did some star jumps (this happened at every scan, I don't think he really liked being pushed around). I came back, and the trainee had handed over, this lady was more thorough, pressing down more.
I don't really remember how it went, but something about the spinal cord and fluid on the brain. I think my mind has shut that bit out, like it couldn't really comprehend what was being said.
We had to wait in a room for the doctor, confused about what had happened, what was actually wrong with my baby?
Finally, when the doctor came in he said "well... it doesn't look good" and that was that. No explantaion, no apologies, nothing.
And so, that was it, we were told by the midwife in charge not too worry, that we will be seen by Southampton, that they're the specialists and that sometimes they get it wrong.
But we both knew, that we would have to make a decision.
I am currently sat in the bath at half 9, the bath recently has become a safe place for me. I like sitting in the scolding water, too hot to sit down at first. The perfect temperature.
The gas bill will be through the roof this month after all of these baths, but, what is not spent on the baby, will be spent on hot water.
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