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Week 13 – Monday-Sunday Mon 19th September – Sun 25th September 2005 Finally on Monday the day of our first scan arrived. Hubby and I headed out early, in plenty of time to catch the bus that runs from outside our flat straight into the hospital (into the hospital grounds obviously, not into the actual hospital, that would be silly, not to mention dangerous..) Unfortunately the bus was so packed with school kids it drove straight past us. This meant that we had to make the 20 minute walk into Leytonstone to catch another bus from there. For an ordinary person this isn't a terrifying prospect. It was a fresh sunny morning and the walk is through a beautiful woods. But of course I am not an ordinary person, I suffer from active ulcerative colitis, active severe ulcerative colitis, and walking can set it off badly. This was a morning I definitely did NOT want my stupid tummy to play up. Every second of that walk I was absolutely terrified that I would get those familiar cramps in my stomach and would have to find a log to sit on and breath deeply to make the pain go away. Fortunately we made it without incident and twenty minutes later we were waiting outside Scan Room 1 at Whipps Cross. The scan itself was amazing, there was a second or two where we were staring at a blank screen then all of a sudden there was a baby shaped kidney bean in black and white! It was asleep so I had to wriggle about and bounce up and down on the table to try to wake it up. It woke up for a couple of seconds, kicked around a bit, then fell back to sleep. Don't blame it at 9am on a Monday morning. The nurse was somewhat gung-ho with the proddy-scanny device, this pissed me off slightly as she tried to get the baby to move by attempting to boing it on the head - that's my baby, leave it alone you mad woman, can't you see it's trying to sleep?! The nurse took all the measurements and said it was the perfect size for 12 weeks, we got our photos (see bumpwatch) and off we went. I had about a gallon of blood removed from my left arm to be sent off for scary tests. Then it was back to work after our two week break. I am still getting a lot of nausea, and my ulcerative colitis is fairly restricting, plus the drugs make me feel quite ill too. I am beginning to get incredibly downhearted. I have been ill pretty much constantly since January this year, that's NINE whole months of sickness and pain and drugs and blood tests and poking and prodding. I have to admit that there are days when I feel like storming the hospital and demanding that they remove my intestines all together. There are days when the prospect of spending the rest of my life with a bag attached to my side is the most attractive prospect in the world if it would mean a life without feeling crappy every single bloody day. On Tuesday somebody offered me a seat on the tube. Granted I was bloated with my colitis and was sticking my tummy out whilst reading a copy of Mother and Baby, but I have never been more grateful to another human being ever (apart from the time Hubby brought me home cadbury’s crème eggs and lemon squash after my card was declined in Tesco…but that’s another story.) On Wednesday and Thursday work was somewhat dull and felt irritated when people asked me to do things I’d already done, came up with helpful suggestions that I had already thought of and undertaken myself but nobody had noticed. I do like my job and the people I work with but for some reason this week it’s really grinding me down. Pah! *shake it off shake it off* Friday was a pretty big day for Hubby. He started the day with his driving test, which he passed, and then found out he had been offered an assistant manager post in another office of the company he works for. Good news all round! The job is a bit further away (in Wood Green) which worries me, the journey isn't going to be easy and it's going to cost more, but he says he'll get a pay rise in three months so hopefully this won't affect our aggressive savings plan. I just worry a lot. I worry anyway without the added hormonal craziness of being thirteen weeks pregnant. I'm going to need to spend a bit more on travel myself soon, with my tummy playing up and getting bigger and bigger at the same time I'm going to have to stop walking in from Whitechapel and get to Aldgate East instead, which is closer to my work, but this is in zone 1 so for one extra stop it will cost an extra £50 a month!! For ONE BLOODY STOP! I reckon pregnant women should get travel discounts. We’re dealing with the continuation of the species for goodness sake, surely we should get a little slack from London Underground? On Saturday I wasn’t feeling well at all, my tummy was bad, I was tired and drained, I felt grumpy and hormonal and nauseas. I could have happily just lay down on the sofa watching DVDs all day on my own but we had two leaving drinks to go to: one for my friend Helen who’s off to Bangkok to teach English; and one for Hubby’s friend Gus who’s off traveling for six months. The last thing I wanted to do was get dressed up, slap on make-up and wear heels, but I struggled on and into central London. It was good to be able to bid our friends farewell, but the tube was a nightmare, and full of the obligatory Saturday night drunks, so I was glad to get home to my safe and cosy bed. Sunday finally arrived. The first proper day of the new football season for Hubby! Hurrah! I have my Sunday mornings back! I love Hubby dearly and he has helped me more than any husband has ever helped a wife in the history of marriage, but my goodness do I love my Sunday mornings to mooch about on my own while he runs around a wet field in the freezing cold. I felt like I had a full scale hangover when I woke up, I had developed two huge spots on my chin during the night and my tummy was worse than it has been in weeks, but at least I could lie on the sofa watching Monkey World on Animal Planet and work my way through a big bar of Milka chocolate. Hubby’s brother was playing footie with him so came to pick him up, along with his wife and two and a half year-old daughter Mia. Hubby was instantly running around the flat being Uncle Extraordinaire whilst I was just further reminded of how rubbish I am with kids. Oh dear, I’d better learn within the next six months. I called our landlord to tell him our news and to ask if he could possibly remove the single bed from the spare room, seeing as we’ll need room for a nursery. He wasn’t as positive about it as I expected him to be, which reminds me further that we have a while to go before we can properly settle down into a place we can call our own where we can make all the decisions without having to rely on other people. It’s all just a bit too much for me at the moment: pregnancy, illness, money, work, renting, parents, hormones…I think I shall go lie in the middle of the living room and listen to Simon and Garfunkal loudly…
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