Come on, first trimester.

Go away. Go away and take all of your anxiety, exhaustion, over analysis of every little thing and nerves with you.

I did wind up going to the early pregnancy unit because of some spotting. According to the scan report, the sac is measuring perfectly. According to my bloodwork, my hormones are measuring perfectly. So why am I spotting? Who knows? Not the ultrasound techs, or the doctors, or the wonderfully stereotypical Afro-Caribbean midwives populating the ward.

It's just one of "dem tings." Same as last time, when The Stoatling was on his way.

The spotting's since stopped -- please God it stays that way -- and I feel fine. Tired, but fine. I just want this trimester to be done, although now I know that getting past 12 weeks isn't the end to worries at all...this is just the beginning.

Roll on, May!


So...Tired.

So very, very tired.

I can't rest. My home just isn't very restful. It's a disaster, and covered in cat hair, cat litter, cat wee and -- as I discovered on my way out of the shower -- cat poop. It smells. There's laundry everywhere. The dust is horrendous. It makes me cry.

I would love to clean, but A: cleaning with a toddler around is like brushing your teeth while eating Oreos, it doesn't work and your mom always catches you anyway (okay, maybe not the last bit) and B: I have no energy, all I want to do is sleep.

I want my US home back, preferably with the ability to afford a maid every two weeks like we had then.

Is it any wonder I can't relax?

Here I Go, Again On My Owwwwwn (or not)

Or cor, blimey, and indeed bloody hell!

Who has two thumbs and wasn't expecting to be...expecting?






We'd just had a conversation about my getting a full hysterectomy (there's a long history of various ovarian cancers in my family and I've already got markers indicating I'm not exempt), a conversation that included maybe, possible TTC over the next few months and then drawing a line under it on my next birthday.

But then this hit me. And this time, it's very different.

For one, we're in the UK. While I have some (rather positive) experience with the UK maternity system, I didn't give birth here last time and frankly, I know that the attitudes of doctors, nurses and staff towards their patients is far less...I don't know, 'sympathetic' seems to be the wrong word, but 'groveling' is too strong. As in, my OB and the nurses in the US were willing to do just about anything I asked, especially regarding pain relief, because patients there are really customers and the customer is always right, even when they have a head trying to squeeze out of their hoo-haa.

Not so. I love the NHS, don't get me wrong, and it was a large part of why we moved back (after a $1200 bill for routine vaccinations AND we were insured!) but I've sort of been psyching myself out about giving birth here. Even if it's 248 days away!

Another difference is that it's not a pregnancy that happened under an RE's care, so I'm not being monitored any more strongly than anyone else. I did go and have a blood beta drawn, privately, for a cost of £90, just to reassure myself, but hCG betas aren't a matter of course over here. You only get them if you've been through fertility treatment or you're having complications -- which of course I do not want! The lack of monitoring is frightening. I've never been "normally" pregnant before. I can go do another beta any time I like, but I settled for a Clearblue Conception Indicator home test, the digital one up there. At 2-3 weeks, the minimum threshold (according to their patent) is 200 iu, so my beta has obviously risen acceptably. I'm cool with that.

And of course, I'm stressing over being symptom-free. That goes without saying!

I've dug out my pregnancy books. I've even dared going into Mothercare and looking at all of the adorable clothes for newborn squishies. I've told my mom, Kristyn (she's a nurse), Cheryle (she takes care of my horse and I need to find a sharer now), Joosh (because that needed to be handled with kid gloves, I didn't want to trample her emotions), and Johanna (well, duh!). And of course, the Foxy Stoat, and my parents. I know that's way too many people for this early, but I can't help it. I'm excited!

I have my first scan April 10th and my first midwife visit on the 19th. This is going to be a big year!


About this blog

The Stoatette, wife of the man known only as The Foxy Stoat, has embarked upon a strange journey during which she has to conquer her fears of pain, loss, heartbreak, and needles.