Before I left the hospital on Sunday, Klaus made arrangements to take me back on Tuesday so I could have a last cuddle and goodbye. We met the social worker in the hospital foyer and she took us up to the little viewing room that has been beautifully decorated and is just like a nursery in someone’s home. Our darling Nicholas was wrapped up snuggly, laying in the bassinet in the middle of the room. He looked so peaceful and it broke my heart all over again. I wanted to rush to him and beg him to please wake up; that it wasn’t too late and we could all go home right now and I promise I would be such a good mum if only he would just wake up.

The social worker said that she had taken the liberty of already making hand and feet impressions into clay and that the clay would be sent to the art department of the local university for firing in their kiln. She further explained that it was something done for the hospital because the man responsible for running the kilns had also lost a baby and he did it to help other families in the same situation. How on earth can we possibly repay all of this kindness??? She made sure we were ok to do what we needed to do and left us then to do it.

After initial cuddles and cooing, and a few more tears we set about to do the things we hadn’t already done. There was a very large hard covered book on the table in the viewing room, and it was filled with letters, prayers and memories dedicated to so many babies that were lost over the years. I had seen it during my admission and wanted to add my own story to it but I just couldn’t find the words and really didn’t want to waste my limited time on that when I could be using the time to cuddle Nicholas. At home on Monday night I sat down at our dining table and wrote two letters; one for each of my little lost boys. I’d brought some glue to the hospital with me and used it to add my letters to the memory book.

I wanted to keep the outfit Nicholas wore in hospital but I hadn’t thought to bring another outfit for him to wear after that. I didn’t want to strip him naked and leave him there, and although the hospital offered me a beautiful smocked gown to dress him in, it just didn’t feel right. I’d left him on Sunday in his hospital outfit and on Monday, we went out and bought an identical romper (love those little hippos and giraffes). We carefully removed his old romper and gently redressed him in his clean new romper. It was a very slow and difficult process but we got through it without any problems.

Nicholas was born with beautiful light brown hair that glowed golden brown in the morning sun. It was almost an inch long in one area at the back of his head and we were able to tease a lock of it together, tied a piece of blue cotton around it then we clipped it away with a small pair of scissors I’d brought with me. With his precious lock stowed carefully in a little envelope, we set about making ink prints of his hands and feet. It was right at this moment that midwife Kate arrived bearing more hugs and more sweet words of encouragement and hope. She commended me on “labouring Nicholas beautifully” and said that it was the way in which I had birthed him that helped him to live for so long. I tried to tell her that I didn’t do anything, I was just there. She disagreed and said I’d been very controlled and that the birth, being flexed breech, was very difficult and that these little babies are usually born with bruises etc. Our little Nicholas didn’t have a single mark on him.

Although Kate hadn’t been expecting us, she still gave us over an hour of her morning to help us make lots and lots of hand and feet prints on the white card I’d brought from home. Our little boy had the biggest hands and feet! She cooed and soothed the entire time, then lovingly washed the ink from his skin. I was so glad to have seen her again and I showed her the pages I had added to the memory book she’d made. When she gave it to me on Friday morning, she’d said that she had made the first few pages for me but that she had intentionally left some pages blank for me to work on. Late on Monday evening, I had scrapbooked the pages reserved for his cot card, wrist band and baptismal remembrance. She loved it.

Kate removed Nicholas’ cord clamp along with a tiny piece of the cord and showed me how to dry it out so I could add it to the memory book. She had even included an organza bag for it in the memory book. We switched the spare wrist band I’d taken away with me, with the one that he had worn up to that point and carefully wrapped him back up in his blankets. Kate left us at that point and we sat together on the sofa with Nicholas in my arms. I held him close and told him how much I love him and kissed his creamy forehead and the bridge of his nose over and over. I delayed leaving for as long as possible but everything must come to an end. Klaus paged the social worker to let her know that it was time for us to go and she returned to see us off and to move my little Nudgie to the mortuary. We stood next to the bassinet and talked about the arrangements to follow and I continued to steal kisses and tummy rubs and gently squeezed his little piggies until there was nothing left to say or do except walk away.

I had such a nice day at home on Wednesday, making ice-cream, cleaning the house and all the while chatting happily away to Nudge. Shortly before the husband was due home, I had a quick shower, straightened my hair, put on a little make up and a clean dress in an effort of doing my very best impersonation of a 1950s housewife. He loves that stuff because usually the exact opposite is his reality!! We enjoyed a nice dinner and a few hours together on the couch in front of the telly before going to bed.

The husband woke me at 1am because I had been whimpering in my sleep. I quickly realised that I was having contractions but it really just felt the same as the Braxton Hicks I’ve been having for the last six weeks so I tried to dismiss it. He had started timing the contractions and thought they were about twenty minutes apart. It was clear that me laying there whimpering wasn’t going to help him get back to sleep so I decided to get up and walk about the house for a while.

By 2am I thought it was time to start writing down the contraction timings (2.15, 2.20, 2.25, 2.30, 2.37, 2.45, 2.55, 3.01, 3.05am) and by 3am I thought it might be a good idea to contact the birthing unit and let them know that I was probably in early labour but mostly just in denial. Given the anhydramnios and the birth defect as well as the distance we need to travel to get to the hospital, it was decided that I should go in sooner rather than later. I updated Klaus and announced that I was just going to take a bath and shave my legs, but Klaus wouldn’t let me because I’d gotten a little bit stuck in the tub last time and he didn’t want a disaster on his hands if it happened again! I took a quick shower and didn’t bother with my legs (too hard), threw on a dress and checked the contents of my hospital bag. Klaus was turning off lights and carrying things to the front door when I decided I’d just unpack the dishwasher - the look of disbelief on his face was hilarious but I did it anyway.

As he locked the front door, I stood on the foot path and looked up at the night sky. There was a gentle breeze; not warm but not cool either, and the sky was very clear except for the all of the stars.

There was no traffic on the express way and we arrived at the hospital at 4am. After sorting out some initial paperwork, the midwife settled me into my delivery suite and after a few more contractions she did a quick examination. I was only at 1cm. Bugger. The obstetrician popped in and did a quick ultrasound to check that the baby was still breech (he was flexed breech). We discussed going home again but with the hellish commuter traffic that blocks both directions of the express way between the hospital and home, we decided it would be better to stay at the hospital. While they prepared a room for me in the antenatal ward, the midwife organised for some panadeine forte and temazapan so I could relax and get a little sleep between contractions. It was shortly after 7am and I decided it was a reasonable enough hour to wake my sister and let her know that things were happening, though very slowly.

The shift changed at 7.30am and my new midwife Tessa introduced herself to us. We discussed the birth plan and my desire to avoid an epidural if possible, and showed me how to use the birthing ball without falling off it! The contractions had been a little sluggish and were really just more of a nuisance than anything else. I decided sleep wasn’t going to happen, so I got up and started walking the length of the suite and back again, over and over.

My beautiful, wonderful outpatient midwife Kate (seriously, this woman is the Mary-Effing-Poppins of Midwifery) arrived and we had a chat. The obstetrician was consulted and it was decided that rupturing the membranes wouldn’t make any difference because there was no fluid and the baby was still breech. It was decided that they would help things along with a little prostaglandin gel, so Kate prepared the gel while Tessa checked me again. It turned out I was already close to 4cm, my cervix was thinning and she could feel the baby’s bottom. The prostaglandin went back in the cupboard, they cancelled my bed in the antenatal ward and predicted that we’d have a baby in our arms shortly after lunch. That’s where everything slowed right down. The contractions were very irregular and often quite mild. My belly bump was still high up under my boobs and I did my best to stay upright and walk-walk-walk-walk the length of that delivery suite to coax him down onto my cervix but he just didn’t seem to want to budge. My feet were a little swollen and tired so I did sit down a couple of times but eventually I moved to the birthing ball between Amanda and Klaus, and we just talked crap while I rolled and swayed on the ball.

Tessa came back to examine me again at 3pm and found that I hadn’t made any progress at all. She popped a canula into the back of my hand, gave me two panadeine forte to top up the earlier dose and started me on 3ml of Syntocinon. Klaus’ parents arrived at the hospital and he went down stairs to talk to them. The Syntocinon was increased to 6ml at 3.30pm and by this time my body was really making some decent contractions. The birthing ball was fantastic and I swayed and rolled against each contraction. The Syntocinon was increased again to 12ml at 4pm and Klaus came back into the suite at 4.15pm and asked if it was ok if his mum popped in to say hello but the labour had gone from virtually non-existence to DEFCON2 in the short time he was away. His mum realised from the noise that it wasn’t a good idea. :/

My memories of this time onwards are very hazy in parts and I’ve only been able to piece together the following with a lot of help from Klaus and by using our massive collection of photos to create a fairly accurate account of what happened.

From this point on, I remember each contraction as being a bit fuzzy to start with (probably because of the panadeine forte), gradually increasing to regular painful-ness then a new sensation of pressure appeared which had me almost screaming (the actual screaming didn’t really happen for ten more minutes). I was still on the birthing ball, rolling with each contraction then leaning right back as the insane pressure part of the contraction occurred. Klaus and Amanda had been holding my hands and rubbing my back during this part, though I am sure they were doing a lot more too that I wasn’t aware of. I know Amanda was also updating and coordinating family members by phone and providing regular sips of water as well.

Kate and Tessa came back at 4.30pm and between gritted teeth I told Klaus and Amanda not to let them touch the machine! Everyone laughed and I remember wondering why they thought it was funny - I was serious!! Klaus tells me that, at this point he asked Kate if we could get me something for the pain and Kate said I would tell them when I needed pain relief. I wasn’t sure if I needed pain relief yet; I was actually waiting for the contractions to get worse! He explained his background as a pallative care nurse and said that he didn’t like to see anyone in pain, and Kate said it was ok, that this pain was good pain and for him not to worry. Kate suggested that Klaus move to sit directly in front of me and I straddled his knees with mine, and pressed against his knees with each contraction. That counter pressure was great but I had started to tremble a lot after each contraction.

Tessa and Kate said they would examine me again at 6.30pm but I was adamant that they should check me again right away because I felt things were much further along. I left the birthing ball and moved to the bed, but the contractions were right on top of each other so Tessa turned down the Syntocinon to 6ml. She examined me again and said she wasn’t sure. She asked me if it was ok if she consulted with the obstetrician and explained that she doesn’t normally do this but she wanted to get it right. Klaus thinks she was concerned about something but that’s just reading between the lines.

I rolled onto my right side and clung to the edge of the bed and my husband who had positioned himself to keep me from falling. With each contraction, he hugged me tight - I clearly remember feeling as though the ceiling was falling down on us and he was protecting my body with his. The contractions were huge and right towards the back of each contraction was this excruciating pressure that made me scream and terrify my poor sister and husband.

The senior obstetrician arrived but I’d had my eyes closed for some time now and was only aware that there was a new male voice in the room. Apparently I barked “Why is (brother inlaw) in here??”, much to the amusement of everyone else. The obstetrician introduced himself and examined me. With the next contraction, I really really wanted to push and up to this point no one had said I could. I really felt I wasn’t doing anything, I was just “there”, secondary to the contractions and everything else in the room. I knew from my readings into breech deliveries that it’s best to have an epidural so you don’t feel those early urges to push because pushing a breech baby too soon can hurt the baby and/or yourself. I didn’t want the epidural so I knew I needed to be careful and I’d resisted the strong urges to push since the last few contractions on the birthing ball but I really really felt I had to push now.

The obstetrician told the midwives that I was 8-10cm but there was one side of the cervix hadn’t completedly thinned out. I asked if I could push and he said I could push if I wanted to, but the midwives ushered the obstetrician out the door and Kate said she would tell me when to push because the contractions were doing such a good job of moving the baby down and out, that I didn’t actually need to push. Although I was told all of this I really don’t remember it and was still wondering when I should push! At this point someone, probably Tessa, took away the Syntocinon drip and turned on the nitrous oxide (90% gas, 10% oxygen) and Klaus held the hose to my mouth and gave me “breath in, breath out!” instructions. I continued to do a fair bit of screaming during those contractions and made useful statements such as “he’s coming!”, “help me!” and “do something!”. My poor sister will probably need years of intensive therapy to get through the post traumatic stress disorder of this part of the labour but she was brilliant, staying right by my side, holding my hand and administering sips of water between contractions. By now it was almost 5pm and everything really went very fast. The contractions were very intense, as was the pressure of the baby moving down the birth canal.

Klaus kept right on holding me and telling me to breath in and out. My eyes were still firmly shut but I remember being in the dark and just spinning in an anti-clockwise direction. Kate got right into my ear and told me that Nicholas’ gorgeous little butt was out and she moved my hand to touch him. I still hadn’t pushed and was screaming against the intense urge to push with each contraction. Klaus kept right on with the gas and the breathing instructions. I was breathing gas between the contractions as well now and went into a really dark, spinning place. I remember Kate saying that she needed to clean up some poo then she quickly added that it was baby poo, not my poo!! (TMI?!?!) Kate and Tessa rolled me onto my back but in my head I was just spinning around and around and around and around in that total blackness for what seemed like a thousand years - the only sound was Klaus’ voice. They were trying to take the gas away from me but I wouldn’t let it go. Kate flipped the gas off so I was getting oxygen only and I accusingly told them that I knew what they were doing!! Suddenly Kate’s voice boomed loud from somewhere in that darkness and brought me back into the room; “Tamara, it’s time to meet Nicholas”. Her voice was urgent and authoritive. Everything was happening so quickly and I was really punch-drunk.

Tessa explained later on that they could see Nicholas’ chest and he was trying to breathe but I hadn’t delivered his shoulders yet. Kate tried to get me to focus and push - I was aware of someone pushing on my stomach to help him out. His shoulders and head came out, Kate cleaned his face and put him straight onto my stomach. It was 5.17pm on Thursday 25th February 2010.

I was still very much out of it and unfortunately I don’t remember this first hand but I have now seen the photos and video, and will treasure them forever. Beautiful little Nicholas was the most greyish-purple baby I’ve ever seen. His APGAR score at 1 minute was 2, and at 5 minutes it was 3. (The same chart recorded stage 1 of my labour as being 7+hrs and stage 2 as 22 minutes!). I held our adorable little boy on my belly to keep him warm while the midwives clamped his cord. Tessa handed me the scissors and held his cord for me to cut. A female registrar obstetrician arrived then to deliver the placenta. They cleaned me up and said I had a small tear but that it didn’t require stitching. Kate placed an oxygen tube to blow across Nicholas’ face and I just kept on holding him and trying to keep my head in the moment (I really was still very out of it). Everyone knew that time was short so they cleaned me up quickly, Klaus and Tessa pulled me up the bed and Kate covered me with a fresh sheet. Kate told Klaus to unbutton his shirt and they moved Nicholas onto his chest and found a little hat to keep his head warm. His colour gradually improved until he was almost pink, though his hands and feet were still greyish-purple. Nicholas had wonderful cuddles on daddy’s chest, he cried and grimaced and my brave beautiful little boy did his very best to breathe.

Kate and Tessa went back and forth a few times, and in the next couple of minutes two pediatricians arrived to assess little Nicholas. They listened to his heart and to his breathing but it was obvious that he had such a small amount of lung development that there was nothing they could do to help him. They offered us some oral morphine and some glucose to help keep him comfortable but Klaus and I decided we would try the glucose syrup first because we were worried that the morphine might shorten his time with us. Kate returned with a syringe filled with glucose syrup and gave it to me. I squirted a few mls of the clear liquid onto the side of his tongue and his little face screwed up in response.

We think at this point Amanda must have gone out to get everyone because a moment later the room filled with our family. Nicholas continued to squawk while daddy gave him warm cuddles on his chest. We spent the next little while getting to know our little boy, exploring his beautiful hands and feet, kissing his face and sharing lovely cuddles. Everyone had a little hold and before much longer the priest arrived to conduct the baptism. I held Nicholas in my arms while the priest performed the service and my brother Adam and his wife Jennifer became Nicholas’ godparents.

My dad and his partner arrived, but knowing the end was growing nearer, I just couldn’t let Nicholas out of my arms to let my dad hold him. Dad said he understood.

Nicholas didn’t feel as warm inside the blanket so I tucked him inside my gown and held him against my chest to keep him warm. Gradually our beautiful little boy became quieter and sleepier. His little eyes grew heavy and each breath became more difficult. I rubbed his body and held him close, fighting back the huge wall of tears that I knew would come very soon. Klaus picked up a stethoscope from a counter and listened to Nicholas’ heart. It was slow, perhaps 50bpm. He moved the stethoscope to my ears and held the other end to our baby’s chest but I couldn’t hear anything. He listened again himself and said he couldn’t hear the heart beat now at all. Our baby had passed. It was 7.20pm.

Eventually our family left us to be alone with Nicholas and I was at last able to get up, pee, shower, dress, etc as up until then I’d been wearing only the hospital gown and was covered by just a sheet. While I sorted myself out, Kate filled the baby’s bath and arranged the various things we needed to clean up Nicholas. He was weighed (2.51kg or 5lbs 9oz) and measured (45cm). Klaus and I gently rubbed his beautiful soft skin with J&J Top to Toe (the scent that will forever remind me of our baby), then lovingly gave him his first and only bath. The warm water made his body feel so lovely in my arms and I will treasure the memory of him feeling so warm. We dried and dressed him in his blue romper (covered in hippos and giraffes) then wrapped him in the beautiful blue cotton blanket that his lovely HAPL aunties gave him.

Kate eventually left to go home at around 10pm (!!!) and Rowena took us to my private room in the antenatal ward (far away from the maternity ward with all the mums and their crying babies).

The following morning Kate visited and brought with her a hospital memory book for Nicholas. She had taken it home the night before and scrapbooked it into the most precious and beautiful keepsake. I will forever be so grateful for Kate. She gave me such strength and support to continue with the pregnancy, as well as during the labour and in the days following Nicholas’ birth. I wish I could do something for her in return.

The geneticist came to see Nicholas on Friday morning. He was very sweet to Nicholas, gently cooing to him as he did the external examination. One thing that we had noticed while Nicholas was still alive, is that he seemed to have one blue eye and one brown eye! The geneticist had a little look and felt that actually both his eyes were blue but that there was a definite area in the iris where the pigmentation was brown. The geneticist went away to discuss this with his colleagues and eventually returned to tell me that he was thinking that it might be a retinal coloboma. The thing with retinal colobomas is that they are often associated with the same genes that touch on renal development. We might actually get some answers after all.

The rest of the day was quickly consumed by obstetrician and midwife visits, and a lengthy visit from the social worker. There had been some talk of me going home on Saturday morning but by 5pm on Friday I felt that I hadn’t had a single minute alone to be with my baby and a little meltdown followed. Klaus spoke to the midwives and it was decided that I should stay a while longer.

I slept barely, spending most of the time holding Nicholas, exploring his feet and hands, kissing his delicious neck and committing the perfection of every part of him to memory. Kate had mentioned that it would be ok for me to go for a walk outside with Nicholas and that provided I kept him wrapped and walked with purpose no one would look twice. We showered and dressed, wrapped Nicholas in his lovely soft blanket and went for a walk to the fairy garden at the Children’s Hospital. It was quiet and peaceful, and just so lovely to sit together as a little family with our precious baby. I’ll forever be so grateful to Kate for telling us about the fairy garden; it was a very special time for us.

By Sunday morning I was really really dreading having to leave the hospital - I still needed more cuddles with Nicholas but I knew we couldn’t do this forever, no matter how much I wanted it. We walked outside and sat on a bench, sipping hot tea and watching the morning unfold around us. There were still a few things I wanted to do but I didn’t have the means to do them and the midwives rostered to care for me over the weekend were very different to the ones that worked during the week. I didn’t feel that I could ask for their help - in fact, asking one of them for my breakfast when the food services lady had forgotten about me only created massive problems which is why we were sitting out in the sun with a cafe bought breakfast. I wanted to cut a lock of Nicholas’ hair but I didn’t have any scissors. I wanted to take hand and feet prints but I didn’t have any white card (the hospital uses blue card for that which won’t scan very well). It probably doesn’t sound like much but it was a very big deal to me. Klaus spoke to the right people and arranged for me to go back to the hospital on Tuesday to do these things and we sadly repacked my hospital bag and prepared to leave.

I hated leaving him there - the midwives wouldn’t let me place him in the box they use for angel babies; I was only allowed to put him in the cot and go. It hurt a lot thinking that each kiss might be the last unless I could steal just one more. I patted his tummy and rubbed his feet and kissed his forehead again and again but then it was time to leave. I cried the entire way to the car park and then the whole way to my sister’s house. We’d decided to stop there first to get a copy of the photos she had taken. I’m so glad we did because my wonderful amazing sister recorded lots of video of our beautiful little boy as he lay snuggled and warm on his daddy’s chest. Nicholas cried and kicked and looked up at us both. Yes, our baby died but our baby also LIVED and that is more than we’ve ever had before. We are both so heart broken right now but watching the video of him squawking and squirming is so uplifting and does so much to take away the pain of what followed. It’s going to be a long time before either of us are “ok” but we’ll get there eventually.

I skipped my appointment at the hospital this week because I’ve had a cold and really just wanted to stay in bed instead.  The midwife was great, she asked all of her normal questions over the phone and is happy to wait until next week to see me again.

As you can see from the photo, my little Nudgie-bear still hasn’t dropped.  And I’m still wearing my regular bellybutton bar because I still have an innie!  Besides plenty of braxton hicks contractions, there’s really nothing else to report.  I’ve been feeling sad with the inevitable end of this journey getting closer and closer, and I’m finding it rather boring to be just sitting around at home all day.  I spent the first week of my maternity leave cleaning.  I cleaned everything that needed cleaning and everything that didn’t, then went back around and did most of it again.  The highlight of my day today was making a raspberry and honey semi-freddo.  It was a bit fiddly but dead easy.  The best part was getting to lick the bowls myself — that’s a treat usually reserved for the husband!

My grandmother came to stay last week and we spent a lot of that time visiting with other family, celebrating my niece’s second birthday and working on our family tree.  My brother and I have been working our way along different branches and have discovered all sort of interesting things.  Firstly, we’ve discovered that we are 6th generation Australians, and have some interesting connections to explorers, convicts and a bigamist but so far, no long lost inheritances!

I started my maternity leave on Monday — it’s weird being home during the day. Yesterday I put a massive effort into a client’s website redesign and only stopped because my feet and legs became so swollen. It’s hard to make fluid retention look sexy. I did try to rest and put my feet up but that’s a whole lot easier said then done. By the time my husband arrived home from work, I’d done some laundry, polished all the timber furniture, cleaned the kitchen cupboards and the fridge, made a pavlova and had dinner in the oven. No wonder my feet were so swollen.

My husband made me promise that I would try to relax today so I scheduled a mani/pedi for 9am then met with a friend for coffee (tea for me) at 11am. While waiting for the salon to open, I stopped in at Big W and found the most adorable baby mobile to hang over the cot. It has safari animals on it and plays “It’s a small world”. Of course I bought it, because it’s a perfect match for the nursery and because I am obviously mental. Why did I buy a mobile for a baby that won’t be coming home from the hospital???

Anyway, my toenails are now the most shocking shade of candy floss pink and I am full of tea and hot chocolate. Gillian and I started our catch up with a quick stop at Lindcraft. I bought two knitting pattern books (both baby clothes because, as already mentioned, I am frigging mental) and the press-studs I need for Nicholas’ burial gown. Meeting with Gillian was good but I was a bit miffed that she didn’t ask at all how I am, or about the baby. We’re both in pretty shitty places right now — a month ago she was diagnosed with a brain tumour and underwent surgery to remove it. She’s now having radiotherapy and chemotherapy but ultimately has a 25% chance of being alive in 18 months and 10% in 24 months. I understand that what she is going through is horrible and harsh and completely unfair; it just would’ve been nice if she could’ve asked me how I am, you know?

I have a hospital appointment this afternoon and came home to have a quick lunch and write this update. And now I have something else to mention. I’ve just started spotting. It’s super super light (two tiny bright pink spots on a liner, but nothing on the toilet paper) and I have absolutely no pain or cramping and I can feel some light movements from the baby. Egads. I am really not ready for this to be over. I phoned my husband at work earlier and he was telling me that it’s horrendously busy there so I won’t bug him with this new development. I’ll just go to my appointment and see what the midwife makes of it all.

Wish me luck.

__________

Edited to add:

I’m home from the hospital.  I saw both the midwife and the obstetrician; neither were impressed by my tiny two blood spots and neither think I’ll be going into labour before my due date.  This week the baby is measuring a perfect 37 weeks so the chunky monkey has bulked up a little since last his last measure.  He hasn’t dropped at all which explains the dreadful reflux I’ve been having - my stomach is basically somewhere over my left shoulder!

We invited ourselves to my brother’s house for dinner on Saturday night and my adorable not-yet-two-year-old niece was in her high chair, just finishing up her dinner when we arrived. I stood in front of her and we chatted, mostly about how her daddy was going to fix the puppy dog when he gets home (she had dropped one of those bobble-head toys, and broke it’s head off). She seems to get stuck on a particular event and uses it as a conversation starter for the following week. Last week her big conversation starter was “mummy fell in the bath!”. Poor mummy!

She was pushing pieces of pear into her little mouth when she looked me up and down, cocked her head to the side and pointed straight at my belly and said “Baby?”. Whoa. We’ve never mentioned it to her but the perceptive little miss worked it out on her own. I said yes, that it was Auntie Tamtam’s baby. She raised her chin at me and said “Show me the baby, I want to see it”. Umm? My sister-inlaw quickly explained that she just wanted to see my tummy, having been through a similar thing with her little brother (he is now six months old already). I showed her my tummy and she gave it a rub and exclaimed “Baby!!”. Happy with that, she finished her pears and I cleaned her up before bringing her into the lounge room with the adults.

She dug around in her toy box and pulled out a little dolly and brought it to me. “My baby”, she explained. Then she pointed at my tummy again and said “Auntie Tamtam’s baby” then she pointed at her little brother and said “Mummy’s baby”. That kid has it all figured out and isn’t even two yet. Un-freaking-believable. The next part just about killed me; she put the dolly up under her shirt and grinned like a fool before announcing that her tummy was the same as my tummy. Indeed.

I’m not sure how we will explain when Auntie Tamtam’s baby is gone. I hope she just sort of forgets about it…

I’m still pregnant (36wks today) but have been having some pretty horrible cramping. I was back at the hospital today for my routine checkup and the ob/midwife were both “happy” with the stabby-cramping - it’s not labour, it’s just my body getting ready for the inevitable. I had another ultrasound today because at my last appointment they really couldn’t tell which way the baby was pointing. As it turns out, he is firmly breech. He’s also measuring quite small; about 2kg (4lbs, 5oz) though the ob said these measurements are very rough because of his small chest and tummy circumferences, and because of the no-fluid thing so he may be a bit bigger though not by much. I’m due to finish work on Friday and am so glad for it because my feet and legs have been really swollen from the heat. I have a long walk to and from the staff carpark (about a kilometre each way) and that walk turned into a trudge around 32 weeks and now it’s exhausting.

My husband started a new job last week. We are both employed by the same organisation but now we both work within the same facility. It’s been a bit weird having him on my turf but I do really love driving to and from work with him every day. We’ve only managed the one lunch date together because his job is very very busy and quite high stress (he made me promise that if he keels over with a stroke/heart attack while doing this job, I’m to sue the organisation!) but it’s nice to know he’s just a few minutes away. My department is due to be relocated to the new building (there’s been some major redevelopment and construction going on since the middle of 2009) later this year but until then, his office is just one level above mine but on the other side of the building. Anyway, I only mention the new job because it kept him from coming to the appointment with me so he missed out on seeing the baby again. My feelings were hurt when he said he wouldn’t be there but I understand that he can’t just bail out early whenever he likes (even though he’s the damn director, whatever!).

So… a breech baby. I’m pretty sure the midwife said he was head down just recently but that was through feel and she did say that my stomach muscles are quite hard which makes feeling the lumps and bumps a little trickier. I don’t know whether he turned around or whether he’d just always been breech. Regardless, the obstetrician said that she wouldn’t do a c-section because as we don’t have any living children, she recognises that it is likely we will want to try again soon (either on our own or with donor tissue) and she doesn’t want to create other risks for us in the future. And to be honest, I’m not concerned about the prospect of a breech vaginal birth (even after reading a particularly blunt article on suturing, ugh). In reality he is very little (5th percentile) and I strongly feel that I’m in very good hands at this particular hospital. And one thing I have learned through each of my losses is that there is no point in stressing about things that haven’t happened yet.

I went back to the hospital on Tuesday for a check up.  Every is ok; fundus height is 31cm, blood pressure is fine, baby is moving about and his heart rate was good.  I saw both the midwife and the obstetrician, and they want me back next week for another check up and ultrasound.  They poked and prodded a lot but couldn’t tell which way Nudge was pointing.  If he’s breech on ultrasound then the midwife said she’d run me through the nuts and bolts of a breech labour.

I bought the fabric for Nudge’s burial gown on Saturday and am trying to get my shit together enough to start sewing.  It’s harder than you could imagine.  I also contacted the funeral home and have sorted out some of the finer details for his funeral.  We can’t do anymore until we buy our burial plots, but the husband has just started a new job and it’s virtually impossible for him to get any time off right now to go and look at patches of ground.  We’re not even sure if he’ll be able to leave early next week to come to the hospital for the ultrasound. 

Tonight I’m trying very hard to ignore some fairly full-on low cramps.  I’ve done a stack of googling and it seems that the pains are just more Braxton Hicks contractions.  The husband keeps looking over at me with this very worried look on his face.  Poor love.  Neither of us want this to be over yet.

I should be planning Max’s first birthday party or picking out a stroller for Nicholas but instead I’m planning a funeral and picking out a burial gown.

I was back at the awesome hospital today for my 33wk check-up with the midwife. I can’t describe just how fantastic this midwife is; she’s the Mary Poppins of midwives - “Perfectly perfect in everyway”. She’s like hot cocoa, sunny days, freshly baked bread, fluffy towels straight from the dryer and every other wonderfully awesome thing you could name all rolled into a warm smiling package.  She checked Nudge’s heart rate (130bpm), and my blood pressure (100/60) and then measured the fundus height which was 30cm.  She was happy with this measurement given the no-fluid thing and thinks Nudge is doing very well all things considered. I’ve been concerned that Nudge wasn’t going to turn, and while I can deal with the possibility of a breech birth, I really *really* do not want him to stay transverse. The midwife did some poking and prodding, and is certain that Nudge has turned most of the way head down. She did say that he could still do a few 360s before his birthday but for now I’m ever so pleased that he’s turned. We talked about my birth plan and she documented my wishes and assured me that the hospital would support everything I’ve requested.  She was of the opinion that everything in my plan was what they would do normally anyway… such a far cry from Westmead Hospital!

She had some time to spare, so she did a little private tour of the delivery suite. I have to say that I am so impressed with the resources available. Each suite is fitted out with these nifty high-tech delivery beds with push bars and so on, there’s birthing stools, birthing balls, bean bags, huge ensuites with a shower and bath as well as a big inflatable birthing pool. There was also a kitchen available for dad to get coffee/tea, ice for mum, etc - they even had a vending machine full of frozen Lean Cuisines and a microwave!

Along the walls of the delivery suite were lots of gold and silver stars, each with the birthdates and names of all the babies born there. The baby stars are part of a program to raise money for sick and premature babies and it was so lovely to walk down the hall past so many names. Our little guy is definitely going to have a star!

Over the last couple of days, little Nudgie has been doing his best to turn around. I was certain that I couldn’t feel his head above my navel anymore and thought he might’ve worked himself into a transverse position. This was confirmed on ultrasound yesterday. Then last night, he was so active I thought he might’ve been rearranging furniture or something! He was definitely head up again during the day but when I woke from my nap this afternoon, he was on the move again. Tonight I’m getting a lot of low kicks and I can’t feel his head up high at all. I’m hoping he’s settling into a head down position, probably with his feet tucked up. I would LOVE to have a little low-tech ultrasound machine at home!!

We had an excellent run to the hospital this morning; it took only 40 minutes to get there. We met with the high risk pregnancy midwife again and she ran us through the plan for the day and went over a couple of questions we had. The geneticist met with us at 11am and he went through our medical history, created a family pedigree and discussed the plan for Nudge. He seemed a little baffled when we said our previous geneticist had ordered subtelomeric testing and he requested our consent to contact her regarding this and to get copies of results of all previous testing. Of course we gave our consent and I will be interested to know if anything comes from this, especially as we haven’t been given those results yet. The best part of all is that he already knew about the recent discovery of the involvement of the RET gene in bilateral renal agenesis (this is the information I received directly from the lead researcher in the UK), and he recommended that we test Nudge for a mutation on the RET gene. This made me so happy, I cannot describe just how thrilled I am to have such a proactive team of doctors looking after us.

The midwife popped in to check on us then arranged to have a neonatal intensivist speak to us. This doctor was lovely but I was much too upset to speak to him and I am so grateful for the husband because he took everything in hand. He said all the right things and asked the right questions but they were all things I had no idea about. One thing that he was definite about was his request that if Nudge is born living then we want him supported to allow for baptism and family members to arrive to the hospital. I didn’t realise this was an option for us but the intensivist was wonderful and wrote up the order in our patient file to ensure Nudge will be given oxygen and whatever else might be necessary. Given the severity of the prognosis we have formally declined any intervention that will cause him pain and request that he just be kept warm and comfortable. The intensivist was happy to arrange these things for us.

The midwife found us again and arranged for the social worker to meet with us. She was a lovely older woman and we had a brief chat about our situation and our wishes. She said that there is a nursery that we’ll be given access to that has been designed for parents in our situation. We’ve requested baptism and the social worker has promised to arrange for the hospital’s chaplain to contact us in the coming weeks.

I am so glad that I pushed to transfer our care to this hospital. Our previous hospital haven’t done anything like this; when they changed the diagnosis, we fell between the cracks. The husband is very keen to lodge a formal complaint and while I agree that there are more than sufficient grounds to do so, I just don’t have the energy right now. If our case had been handled differently, I doubt I would have agreed to interrupt the pregnancy and the end result would still be the same. What’s the point of expending energy on a complaint when I can barely lift my head by the end of the day?