Baby Bungle – The bump known as.

Right then. “How can I shake this March Mardiness?” I thought to myself and came up with the following question….

What makes me happy?

First thing that sprang to mind was my family so I thought I would tell you a little about them. I’ve already told you about Beannie s now it is time to tell you about his sister, Alexandra, the eldest of my surviving munchkins. Munchkins – never kids – they aren’t baby goats 😛

Alex was known as Baby Bungle whilst she was a bump as her daddy was/is nicknamed daddy Bungle (well just Bungle before Alex). She decided to start scaring me before she was even 8 weeks a bump. I had a bleed. Only a small one but still a bleed. And after everything I went through with Beannie I was scared. The doctor sent me straight to the hospital for a scan. I couldn’t open my eyes until the sonographer said she could see the heartbeat – and there it was fluttering away like the tiniest little butterfly.

At 12 weeks we had the first official scan and, again, I couldn’t open my eyes until I knew that there was something there. Joy of joys!

We went on holiday for a week with Alex’s Godmother, Kate, and upon our return, early one Friday evening I bled again. This time it was fairly heavy, brown blood. (sorry TMI!). The out of hours number told me they had made an appointment for  at the LRI walk in centre at 9pm that night.

First added stress….. they don’t do appointments so when we got there, having waited around at home for 2 hours we then had to wait another 2 hours to be seen by a doctor who kept calling me hen.

Second added stress…..he prodded my tummy, told me that he he wouldn’t do an internal because if I was going to lose it I was going to lose it and there was nothing I could do except wait. He then proceeded to ask Richard how much he used to bench press because “he was a big lad with a kind face” – for the next 20 minutes. I was sitting there thinking that it was going to be like Beannie all over again and the doctor was talking about gym visits!

Went to see my doctor on Monday morning and she listened and found a heartbeat. She also told me that brown blood was “good blood” as it was old. I didn’t need to worry unless it was red blood.

The bleeding stopped on Tuesday and I relaxed.

Friday – blood! Bright red and heavy! My heart felt like it was breaking. I rang the out of hours doctor again and was told that I had to wait until Monday to see my own GP. The waiting game again. Always waiting!

Monday I saw another doctor at my surgery. If I never see him again it will be too soon. “We have to be sensible about this. You have had a good scan and if we worry about every bleed you have then you could be there every day”. yes I had had a good scan but I had bled for 8 days over a fortnight since. I begged him to send me for a scan as I couldn’t do the waiting game again. He still made me wait until Thursday for a scan.

The wonderful nurse at the EPU (Early Pregnancy Unit) couldn’t have been nicer. She gave me a piece of information which has stayed with me ever since. It is the duty of the EPU to re-assure mothers in early pregnancy; their job to investigate symptoms such as mine ad their job to deal with the results of these investigations. She apologised for the doctors’ responses and came with me to the scan.

My eyes were screwed tight shut whist they squirted the gel with the usual “this will be cold” comment. I waited for the inevitable “I’m so sorry” but I didn’t get that. Instead I got “there it is. There’s the heartbeat”. I have never known such relief washing over me. They also showed me what had caused all this bleeding and warned there might be more as they could see the tiniest of tears 5mm x 1/2mm in the placenta and that was what had caused it.

Apart from being sick practically every day for 37 weeks – having practically no notice of the sickness in the last month – the rest of Baby Bungle’s ‘cooking’ was fairly stress-free until we reached 36+6 weeks. That was the day I thought my bladder had given up the ghost but this is a story for another day.

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