Search: pelvis

Empty Handed (by )

TMI and Miscarraige trigger warning.

Note: post was written over several days and is not completely chronological in order - started on Thursday 9th Nov.

Yesterday Morning the NHS gynae team at Gloucester Royal Hospital saved my life - it was impossible to save my kinder surprise, though the sorrow of which is I hadn't known I was pregnant for very long before the problems started. It's amazing how joy can evaporate leaving a pit of despair that seems bottomless.

We already knew the baby was probably dead but there was still some hope and we were awaiting the scan. I don't know if I had a temperature with the cough or whether the damage was actually done at the end of September when I did have a fevery chest infection but did not know I was pregnant. That in same ways would fit too but then it could be my irregular periods or the endometriosis or maybe incompitable blood groups. Or maybe there was just something wrong with it in the first place. We can't really know.

Everything I can control and do right I do do right - no smoking, no drinking, eating healthily and exercise. And though I know people stressed that I was continuing to run workshops and act and go on field trips and hike even after knowing I was pregnant - the Drs assure me that a healthy pregnancy would be fine with those things - something else was wrong - something out of my control.

This leaves me with a hatred; I kind of had this hate anyway - I know they are suffering in their own ways but the rage I had with mothers who smoke and drink during known pregnancies has intensified. This has been there since I was being wheeled passed such a person whilst pregnant with Jean. To see them there on tottering heels with a cig in one hand and a bottle of booze in the other sporting the bump between boob tube and mini skirt whilst I had followed all the advice and was crippled and unsure whether I'd ever see my baby... after the scan on Sunday I found it hard to even look at one of my best friends because of this, she'd been unable to give up smoking and was in my house at my request and I found it so hard talking to her and I don't want to feel this rage.

I was continuing to do all the things because I thought remaining active was the best way to prevent the separated pelvis from becoming too bad. As soon as problems presented themselves I began to cancel the more physically demanding stuff. Ironically this means I have just stepped back from some amazing opportunities to try and save a baby that I have now lost.

Yesterday morning I was in a lot of pain, I'd started loosing clots but it wasn't bad enough to be seen again. I sat and did some colouring in and tried to sort out ballet classes for Mary and do adminy things. I had what I term a "period poo" and went and moaned about this to Al as that was all I needed on top of everything and I was worried I might have now picked up a stomach bug.

Then we had lunch and I sat and sorted the craft supplies for the workshop with the Scouts I was supposed to be running the next day - I was sorting stickers, pompoms and goggle eyes into various tubs. I wasn't lifting crates and wasn't even sure at this point whether I was physically going or sending Al with instruction sheets for the various things I'd gotten ready.

I felt sick and saw my bleeding had increased slightly so I went to see Al who said we'd phone the hospital again after his next meeting which was in 15 mins. I came back in and changed my pad but before I could sit down I felt a rush of blood. And went back to the bathroom - I'd drenched the pad and it was running down my legs. I phoned Al and said we need to phone now and go to the hospital.

I changed pad again and then again whilst he was phoning - the emergency number we'd been given told us it was daytime so to phone and leave a message with the early pregnancy unit and they would phone back. This is what we did but I'd had to change my pad again and knew this was bad from previous bleeding issues after having had Mary so we bundled me into the car and went to A&E. On the walk from the car park to the department I felt something come out of me, I felt like I'd given birth to something, I knew the pregnancy was smaller - much smaller than it should have been so I flipped out screaming "somethings come out" I thought my womb had prolapsed with the accompanying pain and the size of what came out.

At the desk whilst Al checked me in all I could do was cling to the side and whimper due to the contractions I was having - these were not full on all stomach like I had during Jean's birth but they were worse than the womb flush cramps I had after Mary. The whole thing was somewhere pain wise between the births of my two girls, except I knew there would be no little baby to take home.

They put me in a wheel chair and put me in the waiting area and we waited. At some point there was another pad change whilst being seen by a nurse - Al had to wheel me into the loos and help me. I was loosing handfuls of black/brown jelly clots like I did after I had Jean except these were much bigger.

Mainly with miscarriages nature knows how to take care of things, I could still feel the thing filling my vagina and I was still petrified about what it was. Selfishly I was now worried about whether this baby was going to take my womb with it, I didn't think my life was in danger at that point - I know my body can take far more of a beating than this before things got bad. The pain was different from the suspected ectopic I had which was a searing pain down my left hand side followed by cramps of a bad period variety (I have bad periods so probably a very bad period to others).

I was taken to a side room off of A&E which was busy with stressed looking Drs in it - I think the wait times and capacities are worse than when we first moved here - I believe there has been at least one A&E closed in the area in that time and this makes me furious as I watch the paramedics having to fill the gaps with patients whilst waiting for the Drs - everyone was maxed out.

By the time the Dr came to see me I had soaked through my pad, uber fluffy pyjamas and made a considerable mess of the wheel chair, my legs, socks, shoes and even the floor.

Up on the trolly the nurse helped me remove the sodden mess and something fell out, I freaked again trying to push myself away from the lump that to me did not look like a jelly clot - I had forgotten about placentas and things, I knew it was too big for the baby/fetus/blob and again that fear that it was my womb. I was in quite a lot of pain as well at the time. They assured me it was ok and placed it in a bowl for the Dr etc... to look at.

The Dr examined me, including speculums and dragging material out, he like every other Dr had trouble finding my pesky cervix; it likes to hide for my smear tests too and I have to do some fun gymnastics for them to get at it. It was decided I needed an injection to increase my blood pressure and help my body push it all through. Kind of inducing a micro labour from my understanding.

It made me feel sick but then I was feeling like I might vom anyway.

They informed me it was a miscarriage - I have a horrible feeling I actually said "duh yeah" to the Dr.

The nurse was literally scooping up handfuls of red/black gunk and shoving them into a bag, it was hanging down in boulbous strings like silly putty or play slime - a bit like some horrible monster from a horror movie. I found myself stressing out that they were going to put the baby in the bin even though I knew it was minute and possibly not there at all and already dead.

Alaric has been struggling to eat since.

He showed me stuff from his workshop book to help distract me and keep me conscious - a large old book with black binding and little embosses logo - the nurse thought he was reading the bible to me. I kept crying randomly.

I thought the Dr said his name was god - I think because I'd been reading up on Islamic stuff for my novel I heard him say Allah - I think he said Ali or something. Certainly someone was called Ali because Alaric responds to that name and kept turning around when it was called).

There was a lot of faff about chaperones and covering my dignity, which I just wanted to scream was unnecessary but understood was really there to protect the Drs as well as patients. Also I don't think I really had the energy to scream at all about anything.

The wheel chair was cleaned up (by Alaric who was in his stressed being uber helpful mode) and I was taken up to a ward to a room of my own with bathroom. As they wheeled my chair in I started to cry - it looked like the sort of room I'd had when I had Mary - the sort of room that should have one of those little hospital cots in - I was going through all this and there would be no baby to hold.

The poor girls who had to put up curtains in the room where trying to be sensitive and give me space or someone to talk to, in the end they only hung one curtain and came back later to do the bins.

I lost more clots and was wearing huge pads and hospital disposable bloomers (which are see through) by this point. No trousers, just blankets to cover me up - I told Alaric I thought it was the end of my Eeyore pyjamas.

I needed the loo - I made a huge mess and called the nurse as I physically couldn't clean it up and Alaric had had to leave to get the kids all sorted out - it was night time I'd got to the hospital at 2 pm. I don't remember all of it.

Nurse told me we had to keep all the clots and discharge etc... so put a stack of pans next to the toilet and I worried that I'd mucked things up by flushing the clots away.

Issue - I needed to pass all the bits of sac, baby etc... in order to stop bleeding and producing the clots of which there was a lot. And they needed to check all of it to see if I'd passed the "products".

Alaric thinks the actual baby bit would have been in the first chunk I lost - it looked more solid than anything else. He carried it up the stairs - this is important to him - since we'd found out I was pregnant he'd been talking to it, even when we weren't sure if it was alive or dead or a zombie baby he spoke to it and told it it was alive and to hold on and how much we loved it.

He told me and the Dr that he thought our little Rice Grain had other things to do and that he wished it well.

Up in the ward room they came to take blood and found my veins hiding due to fluid loss so then came the fun bit of finding a vein to put a cannula in - the first attempt at putting it in failed - I'd wanted it in my left hand so that I could still bend my arm (I've been cannula-ed up before, I know how it goes). It was a no go and has left a lovely bruise - it was a pink robot butterfly - for some reason I felt the need to explain to the Dr that cannulas were robot butterflies, something which harks back to me being in hospital as a four year old.

She said my right hand looked a no go too - apparently I'm too delicate ie my hands are too boney and it is painful if the vein is right up against a bone - also my veins kept running away from the needle - though I think that was later on. It ended up in the crook of my right arm. More bloods where taken and a fluid sack attached to a drip. I was damn thirsty but they were already considering giving me an op so I was Nil by Mouth.

I got pain killers and then morphine, I would try not to writhe on the bed or call out in pain. Everything I passed had to be kept so they could see what products I'd passed. I felt like I was leaving a horrible mess for them each time but none as bad as the first time and the amount of clots was reducing.

They asked me on a scale of 1 to 10 where I was with pain - I said initially 5, then it went up to 7 but my pain scale I think is a bit skewed - for me 8 is unable to talk, 9 is can't open eyes but can understand what is being said and 10 is there is nothing but the pain in my existence. When the Dr came to try and manually clear me out (this was another attempt after the initial one in A&E) I reached an 8 - my damn cervix, I felt like my entire insides where being pulled out when she grabbed it with the tong things. I thought I was going to pass out or throw up as well.

I got morphine to take at this stage.

I got more fluids, I got nurses popping in for chats - I cried every time I was on my own - I read my book on terrorism - it was a Thriller easy read with both Christian and Muslim extremists as the bad guys and a brit muslim as the hero along with a US author. It was a good plot line but read like a point horror - just what I needed.

Alaric came back at some point and gave me PJ and clean underwear and the dussy cuddly toy which I had been snugging at home when in pain. The nurses loved the dussy, so did the Drs.

He'd packed my pregnancy PJs; I couldn't help but point this out, i.e. the ones my mum made me when I was having Jean and that are really thin cotton so only tend to get worn when I go into hospital. They have paddington bear on them. He's tried to get me old pjs and bought me a pair of his and his pants to wear as well so I wouldn't ruin any of my wonder women or star wars knickers etc...

I slept a bit, the pains seemed to be easing off and the clots got less and less.

They let me sip water until midnight when I had to once more be nil by mouth just incase.

I was awoken for morning obs and it all seemed fine. I felt a lot better, the Dr was sorting out a scan for me and we were hopeful that I'd avoided needing an op. I felt well enough to attempt changing into non blood stained PJ bottoms... I did this and went a loo with the idea that I could perhaps wash myself a bit. But were as the clots had been getting smaller and smaller to just little flecks during the night I now "gave birth" to several fist sized clumps - and they were not my fist size, they were quite sizeable wrestler hand size clumps. I frowned at them and walked back to the bed having noticed that my canula was letting blood up my fluids tube and I was damn thirsty, so thirsty it was all that began to occupy my mind, I felt sick - I needed to drink.

I pressed the buzzer to get my fluid bag changed and to tell them about the clots. I sat on the edge of the bed unable to get back into it - I suddenly felt weird. When the nurse came I explained and mentioned the feeling weird and suddenly sweating hot as a little side thing.

I had ringing in my ears but I often have ringing tinnitus. The world was greying. She got me in bed laid it flat, grabbed the obs kit to check my blood pressure. It was low, she checked the other arm and it was even lower - I know the second reading had a 30 in it.

Suddenly the room was full of Drs and nurses, extra canulars where put in - these were green I think, they could take faster flows, nurses where literally squeezing bags of fluid into me, they made me feel cold. I told them I thought I was going into shock but I couldn't understand their reply, I started to shiver and cough. An oxygen mask appeared. and I noticed my nails were blue tinged. I thought "that's not good" I thought "I'm not going to get to write poetry stories for this baby," then I thought "stop that! little Mary needs you, you have stories to finish for her and Jeany," the world was a swirl.

They were trying to explain things, they looked inside again, I wasn't opening up properly to let everything out - just like with Jean's labour. I thought "this is a lot of medical stuff and pain for no baby" they kept trying to draw me out with conversation - the Dussy was important for this.

It was less painful than having Jean, more painful than having Mary. I kept apologising for everything - I'm not sure why I do this - there was a nasty philosopher who said that if you truly want to see who someone is then you hang them over a cliff or make them confront their death (or something like that) and only then do you truly see who they are. Every time I get close to that cliff I start worrying I'm being a nuisance and apologising and trying to clean things up and be helpful - I am not sure what that really says about who I really am.

Alaric uses this to gauge how ill I actually am - a gritted teeth fine is much better though still not good but a sorry is a bad sign and an Ok is probably the worst.

Once I was more with it I could see there were 2 drs and 4 nurses all in my little room, "nothing like a bit of excitement first thing in the morning!" was one phrase that made me smile.

But that was it I was going for the op. I was now being fed fluid through pressure cuffs?

I couldn't reach my next book to read - The Book of Dust and with the canulas and fatigue I couldn't have held it up even if someone had passed it to me so it sat there with the Dussy on it and I thought of going back to South Africa and seeing the whales properly, I saw a whale give birth but I still haven't seen an orca and Lynn had told me about them at sunset and how their white turns pink as they jump out of the waves - I want to see that.

I felt a pang of guilt as I lay waiting for the op. I wanted this to all be over, but for it to be over I had to get rid of the last remnant of my baby. It was like I was wishing it away.

A lovely nurse came and changed me, managing to thread my t-shirt around all the pipes and canulars - the blood pressure tube was on my leg - I'm not sure how it got there but she explained it was so it didn't hamper the fluids going into my arms. I think I panically told the Drs about my blood group - don't give me O positive it makes me ill, I know my blood looks like O positive but I'm allergic to it!

Apparently I was down as O negative anyway.

I'm not sure I was making a lot of sense - but I know it was potentially important.

I had to do swabs for various super bugs - I think I may have done this twice at various stages. I panicked that I hadn't told them I'd had contact with MSRA before they started doing stuff because I know it can be a problem.

I explained about my c-section scar and then about cleaning mum's cancer wounds - no idea if it was relevant. Again not sure really how coherent I was.

I got stressed that I was leaving blood all over the hospital and mucking up all the white sheets. I couldn't go to the loo myself but the amount of fluids they had pumped into me meant I needed the loo a lot - I had to call for bed pans. I don't like weeing in bedpans, I never thought I'd want a catheter fitted but I found myself wistfully thinking about them.

They couldn't get hold of Alaric to tell him I was having the op - it was school run time and he'd left his phone at home because he was stressed. The headmistress apparently stopped him to ask if he was ok which quite frankly he is not. For me I was losing/had lost the baby, for him it was the baby loss and a very ill wife.

I knew he should know I was going into theatre - I got the nurse to get my phone and texted him saying I was going to theatre - I wanted to text that I loved him but knew he'd panic so didn't. When none of us had heard back from him and I was being whisked away to theatre I regretted not sending the "I love you" and couldn't remember what the last things where I'd said to him or the kids and I just wanted to get home for snugs.

I had forms to sign and a million questions to answer and both ends of my bed being wheeled around the hospital. The anaesthetic drs where really nice and in the end the bit I'd most been dreading and didn't want to happen - the op. was the least traumatic bit of the whole experience. They injected stuff into my canula, explained I'd have a breathing tube put in and gave me oxygen and talked gently to me until I went to sleep.

Part of me always worries I won't wake up - I think that is because of the almost dying during the op. as a four year old and waking up days later - that missing time is always there when I have hospital stuff - I can't help it.

There was kites and clouds on the ceiling, I held onto the fact that I have a kite picture I need to ink and turn into a colouring sheet for the girls. And drifted off and woke up and it was done - I had a bit of a sore throat and a blocked nose.

I was allowed to drink again and when I got back to the ward I was even allowed food. I thought I'd wolf it down but I didn't - Alaric turned up as I was being settled back in the room with the food. He'd gotten the message and phoned the hospital and they'd told him he didn't have to wait until visiting time (3-4:30 or something like that).

I didn't have a clue what meal it was, as in was it lunch? Dinner? It turned out to be lunch, I barely managed a 3rd of it. But I did drink the soup and my cup of tea. I was still woozy so was still bed panning it. Alaric thought I was a def. staying in for another night so went off to get the kids for a visit.

But my bloods had come back fine and I was starting to feel a lot better the Dr asked me if I wanted to go home - I was now feeling narky and fed up with being in the room - I knew Al was getting pizza for dinner - I wanted pizza and a film with my family.

I was using the loo again and there was little blood and only minute specs of clots etc... I drank all the water, I wanted to rip the canulas out. They came and took them out for me and I got myself dressed though it was a confused getting dressed and I think I put back on dirty cloths - certainly Alaric helped me rechange when I got home.

Al turned up as they served me dinner - you could tell I was feeling better as I was cross and snappy. I struggled my way through most of the main course and left the soup, roll and stashed the pudding for Jeany, much to Alaric's bemusement.

We were waiting to be discharged, first clanger - the Dr who'd spoken with me earlier said I'd have pain relief to take home - by this point I hadn't had anything since the op. and was feeling it - I asked for pain relief but it didn't appear I might not have been allowed anymore and then the discharge nurse said that I couldn't take and pain relief home and that I should just take paracetamol.

"oh ok" I said whilst thinking "bloody hell paracetamol isn't going to touch this".

Second clanger which I found harder to deal with was to do with how the remains/gunk was going to be dealt with - at some point the previous day - I can't remember when exactly a nurse had sat down and gone through things with me so I'd signed a form saying I would like the remains to be cremated and scattered in the garden in Cheltenham but I knew there was a second form about being informed when it happens.

Now somehow I assumed this meant there was a little service we could go to. The poor nurse realised that this is what I thought and had to tell me that we couldn't attend it but that a chaplain would phone to say when it had happened. I was crushed by this - unbelievably crushed - more crushed than I would of thought possible.

Also I wanted to know what had caused it - the suspected ectopic between the girls had been so much easier (I was and am still really upset about it - there is a gap in my children that shouldn't be there) - but it had grown in the wrong place, end of story. But this one - this had felt like a nice pregnancy - the best and easiest I'd had, there wasn't much morning sickness, my breast hurt sure but that was nothing. It had suddenly all been blown out of the water.

The answer is they don't know - the risk factors I tick are illness - I was ill at the end of September, ill enough to not go to work I really wanted to go to. Had that done the damage? Was that why the baby was so small? Had it stopped growing properly at that point? Or was it the suddenly coming down hard with it again on the Thursday - I was ill enough that someone who knew me randomly stopped me in the street to ask if I wanted a lift home because I looked so sick. I just started sneezing and coughing hard, it was like a sledgehammer of flu. Alaric thinks this is what did it - he thinks that it must have been this because of how correlated it was with the bleeding. Cough/bleed/cough/bleed/cough/bleed. I'm sure which scenario is better. When I say cough I don't mean a little tickle - the cough was deep an hard and continuous - I could hardly talk to the Dr on Friday and there was nothing they could give me for it.

Or is it my shonky womb with it's erratic bleeding or my stupid weird can't make up it's mind blood group? I don't drink or smoke and I try and eat healthy and exercise and so on. What went wrong? They said it wont have been the work I was doing - that is fine for a healthy pregnancy - so am left wondering what happened.

Left feeling like my body just randomly poisoned our baby, or that I did something wrong but I can't really find what I should have done differently without it causing other problems like making the separated pelvis worse.

I cried in front of the girls when I got home - I couldn't help it, Jean had saved a Mrs Tiddiwinkles 50p for me and Mary dumped a confused looking cat into my lap but neither of them wanted to really look at me - they had Minecraft. Alaric got annoyed with them - they both sneaked in for cuddles a bit later on and then argued about who got to snug at me. I was still having regular waves of pain which I couldn't hide from them.

Alaric made me a bed up in the spare room so I'd be more comfy, he put the dussy and my crotchet octopus on the pillow and made sure there was a stack of books and things. The spare room has the cot in it - it is currently a children's sofa covered in cuddly toys. It burned me and I cried until I slept. When I woke up I had forgotten and then I saw the flapping dressing on my arm and the streak of blood, just one little line ending in a spot where a needle had gone in. Tears without sobs came and that was how Jean found me when she came to see me before school.

I feel I am failing them as well - our family almost grew but now I am just the cause of pain and extra work load for everyone.

This is the Facebook update I composed - I didn't really want to post anything on there are was actually more open on twitter but people were worried and needed to know - I tried to text or Al phoned and emailed people before hand but as always we missed people accidentaly.

I'm out of hospital - I once again have the NHS to thank for my life - emotionally I am not good and physically been through the mill and may not be over yet. I am hiding at home - for those who want to know more and don't already know I am writing something but it is mainly for me and will be shared when it is shared which might be never. But me and Alaric Blagrave Snell-Pym have had an emotional roller coaster the last few weeks going though surprise, fear, joy, horror, hope and now despair as we left hospital empty handed. I will be hiding for the next week recovering.

Grain of Rice (by )

Written Monday the 6th but was not put live because there were people we felt we should tell first before they saw it anyway else and because we weren't really sure we wanted people to know at this stage. I'd also been writing poetry since Friday 3rd which I will see about putting in a blog post.

Grain of Rice

So I found out I was pregnant and as also happens... I find out - I start bleeding. Really very lightly, so light I wasn't sure if I was seeing things.

But I was coughing... bark bark bark, coughing right down deep in the core of me so that my c-section scar hurt, so that I'd pee myself. I've had a cough all the way through since September but mostly it's just been an annoying tickle but it was a chest infection in September and it suddenly hit me hard whilst I was in town. Fortunately one of the people I'd been working with at Frightmare spotted me and thought I looked unwell and gave me a lift home.

I'd sneezed a couple of times and the coughing hadn't yet arisen to it's full intensity it was still just a cough - the main issue was that I felt suddenly like all the life had gone out of me and my pelvis had clicked and walking was once again damn painful. My separated pelvis had never fully gone away so a cracking pelvis wasn't that strange.

I got home and the cough got worse and worse and that night I was struggling, it hurt my pelvis and scar with it rattling lot of coughing fits. The chest infection seemed to be back I went to bed early but the blood appeared so so light - we phoned the Drs...

I could barely talk for coughing - I was steeped in misery at the thought of the cough I developed at the beginning of Jean's pregnancy and what that had meant for me. The nightmare of blood clots and oxygen monitors and samples of arterial blood being taken.

The blood quickly snatched my attention as the new fear was that I was losing the baby - but I had spotting with both Jean and Mary - I had full blown periods with Mary's pregnancy but I also had a suspected ectopic and years of delayed periods followed by bad periods where I dared not take a pregnancy test. There was supposed to be a two year gap between Jean and Mary - I think that says it all really.

So I found out I was pregnant and then there was blood - like every other time I've done a pregnancy test - seriously what is it with that?

Currently the Drs can't do anything for the cough - it has subsided a lot. Then it was the waiting game - I had to wait until Sunday morning to get my scan to check. The baby was smaller than expected, with no obvious heart beat. Saturday I lost gunk, slime and old blood.

I'd been feeling cold for days, so cold Jean had lent me her hoody - this was before the blood appeared - I wonder was I already bleeding inside.

I'd been having a bath Saturday evening when the gunk arrived, I had a slight cramp, Mary barged in to go to the toilet - she's six and always needs the loo if I want a nice relaxing bath. She said, "Mummy you've pooed in the bath" I looked and there was gunk and I swallowed the horror and coughed and thought "oh my god I've just miscarried in front of my six year old".

Sunday was the halloween and fireworks party I'd promised the girls; I didn't really want to cancel it - I thought I'd lost the baby I thought I might have to have the DnC thingy again where they wash your womb. My friend came over uber early with her little baby to baby sit the girls and let anyone in who arrived at 10 for the party if we weren't back.

I told people I wouldn't be making cakes and the floor would likely not be hoovered. Alaric's friend hoovered for me and he made us all nice nutritional food to sustain us and Alaric got to talk to them and remain sane.

Sunday morning was more wee testing and the scan - I'd already convinced myself that the baby wouldn't be there. Initially all they could see was the sac and the bleeding which was on another part of the womb. So I had to go and wee for an internal scan - on the loo I lost a solid lump about 2 cm with little white bumps on them.

So I was surprised when they said there was something in the sac... a very small pregnancy - the size of a grain of rice. But there was no heart beat but it is small it maybe a pregnancy that has stopped growing, it maybe just a younger pregnancy and it may or may not be still alive. It may just be too small for the heart beat to show.

I wonder about the bleeding spot and the gunk I've lost, Alaric is convinced it is the same as happened early on with Jean where it appears we lost a twin. He is hopeful - I am not - I have to wait 10 or so days to go back and see if the pregnancy is growing, whether the baby is still alive.

This means I am sitting here not knowing whether the cramps and bleeding are turning into a full miscarriage, or whether there is a little baby developing or whether I have a dead baby sitting there or worse combo a zombie baby that is neither properly dead or alive but has the potential to poison me with its decomposition.

Some of the gunk was stinky, mostly it's been fresh blood I've lost. I am in pain, physical pain. I keep swinging from desolation to little peeks of hopes and dreams about finishing my baby discworld toys I've been sewing. I am getting angry at friends who have babies but didn't give up smoking and stuff - I get like this - I feel a rage and hate and a ITS ALL UNFAIR as I watch others do things "wrong" whilst I do everything the Drs say and struggle so very much.

This is not fair on my friends who I know have their own struggles.

I opted to see this one even though it may well not be viable - as Al said the ones that are nebulous between Jean and Mary we struggle with because we don't know how to remember them or how many actuals there were but this one we can remember - he wrote all the stats down for it so we'd have at least that.

Miscarriage and still births are often not talked about or seen as a thing of shame and this is unhelpful in the healing and to be honest the medical research around it all. I am fortunate that mine have all been early on issues but it still hurts like hell and I just remember all that pain between Jean and Mary when I didn't even know how to talk about it or what I was supposed to feel and I don't think I'd actually processed all of that until now.

As you can imagine I am a bit of an emotional wreck, I keep apologising to Alaric which I think he's starting to find frustrating - he wont let me do any house work or anything which I'm finding frustrating but I understand - plus when I have sneaked in a bit I just end up coughing up my lungs again. And yes I fear blood clots like I had with Jean.

Again the issue that the records from Jean's pregnancy are all missing much to the Drs horror >:(

So yeah unhappy Snell-Pym's and yes the kids know - considering they knew/suspected I was pregnant before I did and they can see when I'm not well it isn't really fair to keep stuff from them. Death is part of life, grieving is something that kids are often denied and I don't think that is healthy - a new baby or the lack of affects them as well as us.

Just sitting here hoping it's not a zombie baby and fearing its a gone baby. Oh and one last thing - yes I am referring to it as a baby but in reality it is a bundle of cells at this stage and things around pregnancies are always hard times for the parents weather they are wanted, not wanted, surprises or forced -so if I catch anyone using this as an anti-abortion thing I will go spare - a woman's body is her own. Plus I'm sure that's the only way to safely deal with zombie babies :'(

Me and Mary and Park Run (by )

A few years ago now me and Alaric were at a tech and society conference/festival thing - can't really remember what it was and we came across the brand new idea of a Park Run - there was only the one of them (I think poss two) at the time. It sounded like a fantastic idea but alas none was near enough to us.

I remember wondering if I would ever be fit enough as I was on some form of walking aid at the time (can't remember if it was crutches or walking stick). Anyway they appeared in our local area and Al's been doing them on and off and then Jean and then today me and Mary went along - we did not finish but we did a whole lap of run walk run before Mary wanted to lay down. Then we were going to walk a second lap but she decided she was going to run a bit more - so we run walked half a lap before she spotted the playground and in we went to play until Al and Jean came to find us.

Jean was a bit glum as she wants her t-shirt and because she stayed with us for the first lap she also didn't finish though she did do two full laps but she refused to leave us noobs to it! Al thinks he may have a new PB. Parkruns are 5k - this was the first non-running around the block I've done since the half marathon in my teens! Literally 20 yrs ago almost perfectly I think!

I was very worried how my pelvis was going to be and how my balance and things were going to be - there was a slight issue with my gaze instability at the beginning because runners cloths are all patterned and bright and moving around but I know better how to cope with that thanks to the head injury team 🙂

Yeah we didn't finished but me and Mary can build up and there was actual tails on tail runners! Big thankyou to all the Kingsway parkrun, Gloucester.

Also I am now not getting restaurant pizza until I get round all three laps!

Food Frustrations (by )

Mr Alaric made pasta bake for our dinner this morning, this is because I'm still burning stuff when I cook unsupervised and he now doesn't get in from his new job until Mary's bedtime - so we are trying him pre-cooking and me bunging it the oven for half an hr to feed the kids on time.

Also we are trying to do him packed lunches to save money as there are quiet a few DIY projects that need completing around the house.

This is brilliant and wonderful of him... but he did almost get himself skinned alive over the weekend when he suggested I have a snack because I was hungry and at 2:30 was saying I needed to eat and not wait for elaborate cooking. Issue, I normally have my lunch at 12 at the latest, I put on some weight over Christmas (I am now 10 and a 1/4 stone BOOOOOOOO and flapping when I run), this mucks up my sugar levels and my pelvis so there is no choice the weight is going. Meaning I am HUNGRY. I am always hungry unless I have 1600-1800 cals a day unfortunately I was quiet sedenatory over Nov with colds and chest infections and what not and then went straight into Christmas and somehow failed to do my walks and stuff.

Because I know I get hangry and fainty (blood sugar drops etc...) I'm not cutting straight down to 1400 cals but am taking Jan at 1400-1600 cals with the hope that I can actually just ramp up my physical stuff so I don't have to drop right down. I miss the nice dietician/diabetic/thyroid nurse at the surgery but her role was axed and that was that and I was left on my own and I think I am mostly managing it and hey she was there when I really really needed the help with this stuff.

Al has always verged on the underweight end of the spectrum and consumes so so so much food :/ so he just can't get his head around it sometimes.

And also we've had to shift my diet to be more protein, I now recognise when I am protein hungry. This was not compatible with his vegi cooking 🙁 We are sure there are ways of doing it but we can't seem to find it (bare in mind I can't have too much soya and no gluten and they were my main protein before).

If you have suggestions for high protein that's not fish then bung below 🙂 And yeah it is mainly fish I crave, I ate lots and lots of fish during my pregnacies as well - so I have a cupboard full of tuna to try and deal with this. But for joint meals it makes things a bit carni smelly for him which isn't really fair.

My birthday is on Wednesday - I'll spend it at the hospital having cognative stuff done and then it is Scouts night so half my family will disappear. I'm doing a krav one off workshop thing at the weekend which I'm kind of wondering why I agreed to it - I mean I'm just going to flab everywhere and trip over my own feet!

Planking... so I was letting Al do the timings and so I know I can go over a minute but I do not want to do that at the mo. Jan is about doing the minute planks due to c-section scar still complaining. Current pattern is 2 days of 1 min planks and then a couple of days off other wise the scar goes "oi!!!" and then I can't even do my kind of pull up things.

I trying to keep in my head how far I have come, how I origonally could not reach the pull up bar, how I can now wear heels instead of stooping over a walking stick....

Still no idea how I am actually going to celebrate my birthday, the kids are both adimant that I must but what with the krav thing and what not I'm kind of running out of dates to do stuff on!

And lastly - I miss cheap pizza and crusty white bread especially when the two collided. Sigh.

Confessions and Sadness (by )

I have a confession, last year was mainly spent pretending that I was ok and everything was fine. But they weren't.

In the summer of 2015 I hit my head, it was a daft stupid accident that was very me, I was dancing and having a good time with Jean as we awaited a band I had stayed late at a festival to see. I work at festivals but due to the physical illnesses I've had I have rarely stayed at them late we have either gone home or slunk back to our camping.

Something happened, not sure what, weather I went dizzy or slipped or passed out etc... but I remember feeling weird and falling. I feel off of the grass and hit the back of my head on the concrete path. My head rang and I thought my eyes where closed.

Jean says they were open, she thought I was dead. I was a pool of pain but remember thinking a) I'd killed myself and thinking "oh know" and b) when I started seeing people standing around me that I needed to get up other wise there was going to be a palava. I then discovered I could not get up...

Several hours later after x-rays and what not I could move again and due to scary people in A&E threatening to kill us all, and police and nurses having to reassure us it was all fine, we just wanted to go home. I could move again by this point so they let us go.

They gave us a leaflet on concussion saying it would last a couple of days and what to do if various things happened. Now my memory is that we met up with Al's parents the next day but apparently it wasn't and I'd just slept for a day which for me doesn't exist.

We went for a meal with Al's parents, I was glazed but coherant, like I was when they were questioning me, I knew who Jean and Al where I just couldn't recall their names, and struggled with my own initially, but I knew why I'd been at the festival. It of corse did not help that medical personal did not believe I wasn't drunk, this has actually left me with a resentment though the medical treatment was great there was definately dismissiveness due to the assumption that you can't be having a good time without intoxication.

So the few days passed and I woke up and things suddenly got worse my speech slurred and I got slow. I posted on FB in dispair about how long was concussion supposed to last, and got a phone call from a friend who heard my speech and spoke to Alaric. The up shot being we called on the medical insurance he had and they were horrified I'd just been left and sent me to A&E with a list of scans and things I needed.

Interestingly going to A&E on a weekday morning meant no one thought I was drunk, I got the scan and there were no major bleeds but I had bruised my brain and it had taken a couple of days for the swelling to act up. It was not bad though and there is basically nothing they could do.

They also found I had growths in my sinuses, they are none cancerous polyps and would be expected in people with food allergies etc... as the allergies being acted up makes them grown (or this is what I've understood).

So basically it was a waiting game, the polyps/sinuses could have made me dizzy, my migraine medication could have lowered my blood pressure, I could have slipped... the festival was fantastic at looking after me when it happened as where Churros Bros.

There were oppointments and things, I don't really remember about 3 months, I know I did stuff, I know I posted to FB and twitter etc... I know I was mainly using speech to txt to do so. I thought I suddenly got brilliant at sudoku but I hadn't I was just filling the grids in randomly and my writing was garbled.

Al says unless we were out I slept, I had lucid realistic dreams that seemed like reality. I was stuck in a mash up of Mad Max films and Water World when I was lucky, at other times it was old sitcoms like Friends and soaps such as Eastenders, Neighbours etc... Alaric run my workshops for me whilst I mainly sat and coloured in but by September I was drastically improving, my speech was mainly normal though I still kept just nodding off and having periods of slurred speech.

I started doing stuff again, I think there was a Science Show Off, a few poetry events and my first acting job which Al was very nervous about and used his lunch break to check I was where I should be etc...

Then Christmas hit - from about mid november I started struggling again. Slurred speech, random times in Bristol where I was taking part in an art initative pop up shop and exhibition, my parents had taken me in for the set up and day shifts and that was fine but I thought I was well enough so I went in by myself on the train, it got dark whilst I was traveling, I was supposed to meet my friends for the launch and my shift. I ended up in the completely the wrong bit of Bristol on the pavement, a worried lady thought I was drunk or something and helped me find my friends and then right bit of bristol.

It slowely became apparent that I was having over load of some sort with all the lights in contrast to the dark nights, the more the contrast and the more flashy the worse it got. Just sitting in the carvery with my parents with multiple sets of christmas lights made my speech slur.

Damn concussion.

Then I went to see the star wars film - this was last year so it was the Rey film. We had free cinema tickets at the time. I didn't remember the last half of the film, so of course I went to see it again with my dad... there are flashy fight scenes. My dad was so worried about me, he said if he hadn't known about the concussion he would have thought I was having a stoke, my speech slurred, I was falling and stumbling as we left the cinema, crashing into people.

Now my dad is a skin flint with money, so I knew something was very wrong when I became aware that I was sitting in the posh coffee place in the Docks with posh coffee. It was the nearest place and he thought I needed to sit and rest.

Flash photography also, including at the comic book festivals cosplay, I have huge guilt over this event. My family where all in the crowd watching I'd managed to find someone to cover my stall so headed up to watch but could not get to them. I stood watching planning to take some photos but... but I started to feel weird and dizzy and realised I was getting over loaded so went to walk away. Coordinating walking was hard, my arms were pins and needles. I saw a young man/boy collapse into a fit and being first aid trained I instinctively went to help except I could not coordinate and kind of just collided with someone who asked me what the matter was, I tried to say the boy had collapsed but found even slurred speech was not happening I think I made some sort of noise.

They looked where I was looking and rushed over, there was lots of help now and I knew I was useless so I got to the hand rails and waited for the vertigo to pass. I then had to have a sneaky nap/eye close at my stall. I still feel so bad I didn't help.

Through out the year there have been other incidences including lasers light, airports and other parents thinking I was drunk at kids parties.

My left hand side doesn't work properly - Alaric says you can't see it until they do the cognative tests and then it becomes obvious I am putting so much extra effort into controlling my left side.

It mucked up my drawings prespective went out the window faces where distorted, drawing took an age.

Sustained concentration made my speech slur. But hey I wasn't sleeping all the time anymore.

Now obviously I've still managed to do stuff and physically I am as fit if not fitter than I have ever been. But numbers... I can't always do numbers and if I am not expecting to see people I don't recognise them, I even lost my friend in a cafe because she put her coat on so she didn't look the same as when we'd met up.

This is a scary position to be in as it means if someone realises this they could pretend to know me. I can't even find my own way to our allotment though I did manage to find the Drs so I should try finding the allotment again!

I'm on a new rest regime as basically my brain is still healing and can't cope with large sustained load, there are no information filters. So lights etc... are a tsumani which floods me.

The seizures are more likely to happen when I am tired and take 3 days to 2 weeks to get over though I'm sort of normal as soon as I've rested I'm just abit clumsy and mentally slow afterwards.

Sustained writing and reading are hard it's like all the coping mechanisms for the dyslexia and ADHD have vanished, the nurologist says this is because they take up more brain power and I just don't have the capacity for that at the moment. I still have voice to text but my god it's an editing mess!

As you can tell by the spat of long blog posts I am finding things alot easier with the rests in place but they do eat the day and any day that I go out is a struggle. The acting in the autumn was fine but lit. it was all I did those days and when I go and perform I have to ask for no flash photography and arties can't seem to help but take flash photography often because they are now drunk and can't remember what I said about it all :/

Also it means I am a pain as I have to ask the events organisers and venues to change the room lighting, I think this is going to plummet the amount of people who want to book me :'(

On the other hand I can now get up and down flights of stairs so all those little venues that where out with the pelvis issues are now accessible to me (if it's not one thing it's another - sigh).

It was this fear of ruining everything I'd built up which lead me to try and hide how hard things where being that and people kept saying things like "concussion only lasts a few days" and "use it or loose it" over brain function.

But I need to be honest because these are the new restraints I am working within and if I am to achieve all I can I need to be working with people who understand and want me still. The summers festivals were more than doable - yes I can't really stay once the light starts to fade so that is the same as when I had the fatigue and pelvic issues it just a different type of fatigue and issue.

And the fatigues are different which is bizar but they are.

Basically I can now get 2 hours of high brain function stuff done a day, this has to be broken up and is still not high high stuff like my maths SOBS. And I spark out into sleep which I awake from and then can do physical house and kid looking after stuff. What I had before was muscle fatigue and inability to sleep due to pain. It is a weird contrast especially as both are called fatigue.

On the plus side - this is all probably transient, in that as my brain rests it heals, the little connections re-grow and retrain and the over loads will hopefully stop and I can have my sparkly flashing lights back.

However there is a sad sad price I have had to pay for this. We were trying to adopt, know when Al attempted to contact the adoption people to explain the head bang when not long after it happened he found that we had dropped off their list and it was going to take ages and I was getting better and a good rate so we spoke to them and started the process again.

And had been moving forward with that and I was improving drastically through the summer, my time lines are a little muddled in that for me 2015 and 2016 are kind of the same year due to memory holes where I just seem to not have put any new memories down :/

So it all seemed fine but then the clocks changed and then nights got dark and the sun got low and flashy through the trees and... well I'm kind of count as a vulnerable adult and it's going to take a while to go away and we made a clanging error in judgement resulting in me having a kind of mini pre-seizure thing whilst out with Mary trying to get her to her Christmas play and the thought of if I'd had a little one with me too was not good. So we decided we'd need to put it all on hold after the last head injuries clinic. Plus it turned out they wanted us to start the process AGAIN!!! Including sending out the stupidly long ref. forms which one of our refs had already filled out twice. I am so sad if the origonal time line had happened I probably wouldn't have been late at the festival as there would have been a small person to look after obv. I might have slipped somewhere else and you know even if my parents had been baby siting them then it would just have been one of those things as they would have already been part of the family. When we thought it was all just going to take a couple of months to get better it was the right thing to continue but we have no idea of time scales at the moment and adopted kids tend to have settling in issues etc... and it just wouldn't be fair. So I am kind of angry at the adoption stuff for being ineffiencent and wasting their chance of finding a home for kids with us. But I also feel guilty because there have been house visits and training courses (we've done twice already as the process keeps changing to make it quicker :/) so I feel we've wasted time and money when all we wanted to do was help.

This is heart breaking for us, we wanted more kids, if/when I am better we can try again but I kind of fear they will be annoyed with us for dropping it this time 🙁 But in all seriousness it scared me going into the seizure stuff whilst out with Mary on my own, I was in the village so like we were bumping into lots of people we know but what if it had been elsewhere?

So yeah I hope we can still adopt or foster in future and I hope that the festivals and events still want to work with me and that I get my shiny lights back. If I don't then I plan to just make winter my creative time and hide in the house as I mostly did this year however that eats into pretty much one of my busiest work periods so is really really not ideal.

Also train travel etc... has been hard as I have to rely on the station staff telling me what train to get on and of course I look normal so sometimes they just fob me off. I was bad enough with trains before due to the dyslexia so if you've wondered why I've not been to see you this is one of the reasons and I am sorry I am not making all the parties and shows and things.

Yeah and shows and cinema, I still enjoy going but do have to spend time looking away and shielding my eyes and I know this is combined with then trying to wine and dine me with my stupid dietry requirements is not brilliant, so I understand if that is not what people want in an outing.

Which is why I am completely failing to organise anything for my birthday.

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