Spoke too soon

7 weeks tomorrow, and the nausea is kicking in more now. No actual visits to the great white telephone yet, but I daresay it's only a matter of time. I've felt more or less nauseous pretty much all day today; but then it's Sunday, and I've been fairly peaceful at home. It's definitely better when I'm busy.
We told the children yesterday: John's idea. They were gobsmacked - literally refused to believe us at first, but when they realised we weren't winding them up, they were both delighted. Told my father today, too - Mum felt that, once the children knew, he should too, so that they didn't let slip by mistake. He seemed pleased as well. Now we have to strike a difficult balance between optimism and realism. We were finding it so hard to keep it a secret, and I'm glad we've told them and made life easier on ourselves, but it's going to be 4 or 5 weeks before a nuchal crest scan, which is so, so long to be cautious and subdued about the possibility of a baby.
"If there's a baby." "If there's a baby", I keep saying, but I am trying very hard not to let myself think about how just bad it'll be if there isn't.

Afternoon sickness

In the mornings, so far, I feel fine. It's at about 3 to 5 pm that I feel nauseous and tired, although, so far, I haven't come anywhere near actually vomiting, which I certainly did with previous pregnancies. Interestingly, there is far less of a problem on days I'm working; I spent three hours helping my boss plate a cat's broken leg today, on an almost empty stomach, which should have been a recipe for disaster but for some mind-over-matter reason, wasn't. I've told her, which was good: she was cool about it, and will let me bring the baby with me if I do the odd session for her soon after the birth. If there is a baby, and a birth, that is. So far not the slightest suggestion that there might be a miscarriage; all symptoms are gently but steadily progressing. I make it 6 1/2 weeks, currently.

I still seem to wake at 6 am most mornings, which is not all bad, because I have enough energy at that time to do the washing up that I should have done the night before. Otherwise, I am generally managing to sleep through the night from about midnight onwards. My mood swings dreadfully; yesterday I was almost hoping I wouldn't end up with a baby, because the level of change and complications to our lives just seemed insurmountably high, but today I don't feel like that at all. I think that if I get past the first trimester with a good testing result, it'll all be fine, mentally, but I just daren't let myself get emotionally involved before that, and that's very hard, and a lonely place to be in.

Thinking of the tadpole

I've spent quite a lot of time with my medical embryology textbook from old anatomy days. You have to be brave to read this book while pregnant (or at any other time), because of the horrible photos of poor babies with dreadful congenital deformities. But it's nice to see the exact stage of embryo that I am, I presume, currently harbouring; a grain-of-rice sized tadpole with little knobbles down each side, like a baby dinosaur. And with a tail. I always wanted a tail, myself.
Either this is continuing to be the easiest pregnancy I've ever had, or else I'm about to be surprised by further developments. My uterus has stopped twinging - it doesn't hurt at all now; the nausea is extremely mild, almost non-existant; my breasts are tender but not agonisingly painful any more. I still feel pregnant, largely because everything tastes and smells different. I love the heightened sense of smell I get when pregnant; it's almost like becoming a werewolf or something, being able to detect the faintest taint in water, the slight hint of metal in beef, etc. It makes me wonder what it would be like to be transplanted into someone else's body: if altering my hormones can make everything taste different to me, using the same taste buds and brain cells that I had 5 weeks ago, how much more different might things taste with John's taste buds, say, or - I don't know - Nigella Lawson's?
And still not a trace of blood, either. I very much doubt this is an ectopic pregnancy - I'm almost past the risk for that, at 6 wks, I'd think, and don't have any risk factors for it. So it looks as if I may need to phone the doctor next week and arrange an initial appointment. I still don't want to get too involved with the pregnancy, though, not until I've had an early scan. At the moment, it's easiest to think about it as something interesting that's happening to someone else, on the whole.

Dawn chorus again

Those birds are very cheerful outside; it's 5.41 am, and I've just finished the ironing.
No news here; still gentle, entirely dealable-with nausea, sore breasts, no bleeding at all; have told John's sister and one of my best friends from school - both are supportive and envious. I don't know when to tell the children; if I get as far as a nuchal crest scan, then I think I'll need to tell them before that, because if I end up losing the baby at that stage it'll be so traumatic that I don't think I could conceal it from them anyway. But I don't want to tell them too soon, a) because they may tell the rest of the universe and b) because I want to minimise their risk of disappointment. It feels as if I have already been pregnant for several years; I can't believe it's only 8 days since I did the test, and 10 days since I firmly suspected what was happening.
I'll be at a veterinary conference for the next 3 days, which will provide a good level of distraction, anyway. I just don't feel I can relax and enjoy the first trimester, until I've had a scan and got a better idea of the risk level for problems. I'd rather be cautiously pessimistic and have a nice surprise, than the other way round.

I can't remember when the nausea hit with my previous pregnancies, but I suspect that my almost nausea-free time so far is just because it's still really early. Certainly I remember lots of desperate dry heaving and ginger biscuits when pregnant with the girls, and so far there's been none of that. I do, however, have all the other symptoms of early pregnancy to alleviate any miscarriage worries I might otherwise be enduring: ravenous, frequent hunger: frequent urination; super-sensitive sense of smell (smelling in technicolour, one might say); and last night, staying with friends, I had my first night of extraordinarily vivid and realistic dreams, which I also remember from before. I must say biology is fascinating. Who would have thought that hormone levels could influence dreaming, only 6 days or so into a pregnancy? Breasts also continuing to gently inflate, and I think now look visibly bigger even through clothes. Fortunately, nobody else is a thousandth as interested in my body as I am (with possible exception of husband, who knows anyway), so unlikely to be noticed by others.

We told the friends we were staying with (had to, to explain suspicious lack of alcohol consumption, etc), and they were calm and pleased, which is good as they are currently trying to adopt after facing infertility; makes me feel very guilty. Are seeing John's sister and family tomorrow, and will prob tell her too.

Settling in

Well, this is the fourth day of known pregnancy, and both I and my body seem to be getting used to it. I'm gently nauseous now and then, my breasts feel subtly fuller and different, tender in a slightly different way - before a period, they have sharp, stabbing pain when pressed or suddenly jolted (say by a child's elbow); now they are just tender all over, and my bra already feels a little small. Occasional uterine twinges, but they feel normal too. I am not at all worried about miscarriage, for some reason - and I hope that's not hubris - I suppose it's just I've been lucky enough never to have one. I am, however, worrying about chromosomal problems and other birth defects. At my age, I have a slightly greater than 1% chance of a Down syndrome baby, which is not that high, if you think of it in terms of lottery numbers, but still of course a worry. I am spending a lot of time thinking about that, I think largely because it would be such a hard decision. If the baby had something dreadful and imminently termimal, like Edward's syndrome or anencephaly, then I wouldn't hesitate to have an abortion, because I would be certain it was the best thing for the baby. If it had something severe but livable with wrong with it, such as achondroplasia or a cleft palate, I wouldn't dream of not having it just because it wasn't Baby Perfect. But where is Down syndrome on this continuum? I just don't know. I gather from Google that about 600 Down babies are born in the UK every year, but that 90% of women who know about one beforehand decide to terminate, which must mean that there are several thousand women in the UK alone making this decision every year; but what a lot of hidden tragedy those figures must represent. Anyway, I suppose I should shelve all this for a while, as I can do nothing about it for now anyway.

I told my mother yesterday, who took the news pretty well; she said "That's all we need!" - which, given my father's incipient dementia and her imminent hip replacement, is fair enough - but basically she was very supportive and not judgemental at all, and I'm glad she knows. She seems to have acquired the mantle of my insomnia, as I spent all night in bed last night for the first time in 4 nights, and she was apparently awake most of the time.

Ah well. Easter weekend and family stuff, and with luck my universe will expand a little beyond the immediate confines of my navel (or pelvis, to be more accurate, as navel-gazing is outside the area of interest, at present).

Insomnia

Three days I've known I was pregnant, and I haven't been able to sleep for 3 nights. The first night, I put it down to stress, although I normally sleep well, even when stressed. The second night, I slept well till 4.30 am, then woke up as if a switch had been turned on in my head - and I wasn't particularly tired during the day. The third night - well, I am writing this at 3.14 am, having been asleep only from 12 till 1 and awake since; I've just finished the ironing. I don't remember any early pregnancy insomnia with the other pregnancies, although there were plenty of disturbed nights later on, with indigestion and suchlike. Oh well. I've never had severe or prolonged morning sickness previously, and I see (thank you again, Google) that early pregnancy insomnia is a recognised thing, so I can hope it'll pass after a couple of months. Two months of lying on the sofa in the sitting room listening to the hamster on his wheel? Oh dear...

Blue line day

I suppose it's all that scientific training that meant I felt I had to use a test kit to confirm that I am pregnant. I already knew. I don't remember being this sure with my other pregnancies, but then I don't remember all the tiny details from either, which is one reason for writing this. My period was due yesterday (Monday). On Friday, I lay in the bath and wondered if my nipples looked slightly different; a Google for "Montgomery's tubercules" reminded me what I should be looking for, and I wondered some more. Over the weekend, the painful, tender breasts that I get before every period gradually morphed into alien structures possibly imported from Barbie; they're not visibly bigger, and they don't hurt more than usual for premenstrual symptoms, but somehow they just feel different. There are various twinges going on in my uterus, and, as if from a textbook, I woke up on the day my period was due with mild nausea and an instant aversion to coffee (had that last two times, too). The nausea has been very mild so far, but I'm only 48 hours into it, after all.

For some reason, I can't sleep properly - emotional turmoil? hormones? I got almost no sleep Sunday night, went to sleep quickly on Monday and woke up at 4.30 am with a hot flush, which is the first time I've ever experienced one. Bizarre - as if spontaneously combusting inside. I suppose everything will settle down with time. Anyway, I did the preg test I'd somehow felt it necessary to buy, and, sure enough, it was positive.

Positive. I didn't think I'd ever be looking at a positive pregnancy test again. Whatever happens from here, I've been pregnant three times now.

John knows, of course, and I'm going to tell my mother tomorrow (goodness knows what she'll say), but I don't want to tell the children for a week or two. They will be delighted. They both want a baby, for some reason. Out of the blue, J (who's 11) said to me this afternoon,

"If someone gave you a million pounds, would you and Dad have another baby?"
"Oh, sure," I said. "Absolutely."
"Then all I need to do is work out how to get a million pounds", she said.

Mmm. That's going to be an interesting conversation, if we get that far, given how often I've told them it's not going to happen.

Apprehensive, not smug

I'm 41 years and 3 weeks old; and I'm 4 weeks pregnant (two weeks past conception). This wasn't exactly in the plan; it wasn't exactly an accident, either. We already have two daughters, who are 11 and 8, and I'd thought that I'd managed to nail down the lid on the desperate rattling of my biological clock. I've always wanted three children, always thought of the absence of the third as a gap; when I heard that JK Rowling (who's 12 weeks younger than I am) was pregnant with her third, I envied her more than I envied her her writing success (and I speak as an unpublished and apathetic intermittent wannabe writer.) But I'd resigned myself to two. And I fully realised how very, very lucky I am to have two healthy children. I've toured the round of the infertility blogs, which has given me some slight persepective on how smug and insufferable I may seem to be pregnant at all at the age of 41. If you are reading this and you have fertility problems, please accept my apologies for any offence caused, and perhaps stop reading - I don't want to annoy you further.
My husband didn't much want a third child, but was less opposed to it in the last few months than in the previous 7 years. And so, twice in the last three months, we've had unprotected sex at the right time in the cycle. 5% chance of conception per cycle, over the age of 40, right? I thought of the gamble as a sort of closure on the third child thing; I didn't really think I'd get pregnant, not with just a couple of possible chances.

But I did. Like an irresponsible teenager, I gambled and got caught. And now the third child is not a daydream, an escapist fantasy, but a very real and physical possibility. And part of me is delighted, and part is horrified that I've upset our cosy status quo with all the issues that go with pregnancy over 40; and part of me still doesn't really believe it. My period is only due today, and I've not done a preg test yet, but I know, know beyond all doubt, that I'm pregnant. And so I want to write about it, because, whatever happens, whether I have a miscarriage or a loss or a baby at the end of all this, I want to hold onto my memories of this.

And I do know how lucky I am to get pregnant so easily at my age. I really do.