Nearly the entire three weeks before my 20 week scan I bled. Not the bright red blood I had been warned about but that didn’t matter. My mentality didn’t discriminate between colours; red, pink, brown it didn’t matter- blood was blood.
All my stressed out brain could process was that I was pregnant and I was bleeding. Every. Single. Day. Two things that should not go hand in hand. Every time my stomach cramped my chest tightened. It got to the point where I refused to go to the bathroom, too afraid to see the results of the horrible cramps.
Fortunately, I had amazing support from my family. Thanks to my husband and my mother I managed to pull my positivity back from that fiery pit and get it back on track. By the time my 20 week scan rolled around, I had regained so much positivity and been bleed free for 3 days that I was 100% sure the haematoma was gone. That’s what all the bleeding had been, the evil haematoma getting out of my baby’s way.
Which is why when the doctor eased her probe over my bump and said
“So there’s the haematoma,”
I felt like the bed had disappeared from under me. It was still there. Still looming over my baby- a constant threat.
Why couldn’t it have just gone, left my baby and l alone? Let me try to relax for at least a part of this damn pregnancy?
The logical part of me knew I had probably over done the optimism in an effort to compensate for my sharp drop into despair the weeks before. There was little chance it would have fully disappeared over those few weeks, but had it shrunk, at least?
It had! It was down to a (hopefully) much more manageable 1.5cm. Still there, still a potential risk but it was definitely better than having a giant 9 cm clot lurking around in my womb.
I had to keep taking things easy- as much as could be possible with a toddler- and at 32 weeks I’d have a growth scan to see if the baby had developed OK despite the haematoma.
That was something new to worry about. I had spent so much time worrying I would lose my baby it had never even occurred to me that the haematoma could have affected her in other ways. Something new to worry about.
Where was that fiery pit of doom again?
My Mam called to me every day. She helped me around the house, entertained my toddler and distracted me from my worry- something I will forever be grateful for.
I had my 32 week scan and all was good. Baby was measuring spot on. I finally began to relax and as my pregnant belly got bigger and bigger (and bigger and bigger!) I felt more and more confident that everything was going to be OK. I just needed to take things easy and coast into the labour ward. I had never before been so excited about the prospect of excruciating pain before.
And then my Dad had a heart attack- his second! Getting more stents into his already over-crowded heart he went into cardiac arrest. Turns out, however, that one of the best places to have a heart attack is in a hospital. Go figure! Thankfully he was resuscitated and given another precious chance to look after that heart of his! (You reading this, Dad?!)
He needed looking after now too.
There was only one thing for it- My Mam spun around at phenomenal speed and in a burst of light was equipped with a golden lasso and transformed into Wonder WoMAM
She juggled helping me, looking after my Dad and, in true Wonder WoMAM style, she even drove my Dad’s truck to make sure his deliveries were kept up to date while he was recovering .
Times were tough, times were busy but times were manageable.
And then Mam was called for a routine mammogram with BreastCheck. Some how she managed to fit it in- and it saved her life.
Turns out even Wonder WoMAM isn’t immune to breast cancer.
There was something soul-destroying to, at the same time, fear losing my baby and my mother.
But despite everything, 3 days after my due date, 3 days after my Mams second round of chemo, my beautiful little girl arrived safe and sound.
And for the first time in 9 months, holding her in my arms and knowing she was safe, I could finally relax.