Well, I have taken to my bed. Thankfully, I had changed the sheet not 24 hours beforehand, but the pillow cases and duvet cover are… of older vintage, and a whole day of spilled drinks and melting snacks haven’t improved the general festeringness. It’s looking like that thing of Tracey Emin’s. I will have to ask for John’s help later to change the cover: it is a superking monster, a two-man job, and I always feel that the task would be ideally suited to a trained set of C18th sailors, with masts, spars and rigging available. A great deal of arm agitation seems necessary to settle the new cover into place; unfortunate, as the change is inevitably undertaken at bedtime, when John’s domestic fires burn at their absolute lowest. He has a tendency to lacklustrely poke his side vaguely inside the cover, dive swiftly under the resulting lump, and lie there looking smug, while I fuss over my own, compromised-by-lump, side, like a cross hen.

I digress.

The bleeding, although still very red with the odd small clot, has been tailing off this afternoon, and could no longer be classed as heavy – at least, not by didelphic, menorrhagic me. The pain, however, is becoming a little worse, which leads me to suspect that there is still active bleeding taking place in there. I am rather worried that it is quietly building up behind my cervix to stage a repeat of yesterday morning, and emerge in half-pint quantity all of a sudden. It really was so alarmingly sudden and… haemorrhagey. I am extremely worried, of course, that the pain indicates that the area of bleeding is extending northwards, and is currently dislodging Turbo, hanging on for grim life in there.  

After doing battle with the never-answered telephone system at my clinic, I finally lost patience, rang the nurse helpline, and bleated to a Real Person, even a friendly and useful one. She intercepted my (since-superceded-by-holidaying-Professor) Consultant mid-corridor, related my woes and current distrust of heparin, and brought back a message endorsing temporary discontinuance of them. Recommence upon cessation of bleeding was her advice, although I think I will wait until Monday, regardless, when I have an appointment with my Prof. (The two-week appointment referred to in previous post was simply to ensure I have weekly scans booked for the time being.)  Still, even Monday seems like a long way off currently, what with the whole increasing-pain-and-copious-blood thing, so even if I have nothing sinister to report, I shall go back for a check on Friday.

Thank you, most sincerely, for your support, handholding, and skillful application of duct tape. It is very greatly appreciated and consoling, because I am miserable. If I am to actually miscarry, I would greatly prefer to do so before Turbo starts looking distinctly humanoid, which will be soon. I would like, if I cannot have another living child, a rapid, merciful close for both the foetus and us. To have Turbo cling on bravely in the face of a hostile environment – and the fault here seems blatantly not that of Turbo, who has been textbook perfection since fertilisation – and then lose the battle with the uterine elements further on down the line, would be torment added to distress. Do Not Want, etc. I am desperately hoping for a better outcome than my current discomfort tells me is likely here.

Still. I have books. I have internet. I have highly unusual amounts of peace and quiet (only excepting my wretched, moronic geese, who are making my supposed rest a honking travesty, and, given that my temper is currently lethally short, risking imminent transmogrification into a large pot of goose fat).

So. Mustn’t grumble!

27 Responses

  1. Many things crossed, and if I were a praying person I’d do that too.

  2. Grumble away. How else can you entertain yourself?

    Thanks for the update. Duct tape is a fine cure-all. Whoever suggested that is brilliant! Hoping that your northward pain is more like Turbo digging in for the long haul rather than anything else.

  3. Mustn’t grumble, she says. Good God. If your upper lip gets any stiffer, you could use it as an ironing board.

    Many hugs.

    Poor little Turbo, beloved little thing, please please stay and grow and be healthy. Please please please.

    Though oh, how I relate to wishing that if Turbo can’t stay, he or she goes quickly. Oh, my darling. I’m going to go and have a little cry, and then I’ll be right back and will recommence Flapping and Hovering.

  4. Feet up, legs firmly closed and relax (ha!) Hope you are all hanging in there.

  5. Another crying woman here. I hope, I hope, I hope for all that you would hope for yourself.

    I have to say: “Mustn’t grumble”??? What??? Dear heart, you have every right to, and if you need to then do, please.

    Also, if it is to cheer you up at all, we have epic duvet battles in this house. I like a nice crisp, clean white duvet cover, where the duvet is perfectly placed within it. If there is too much flapping empty duvet cover, I become distressed, and have even been known to get out of bed in the middle of the night and remake the bed in an attempt to sort it out. My husband, on the other hand will quite happily never make the bed, and sleep with a fetid, unwashed duvet cover with the duvet crumpled up into a ball within a corner of it for months. When we first started going out, I used to have to wash and dry the sheets in a single day because I couldn’t sleep in them anymore, and so that he didn’t think I was a weird, sheet-washing bunny-boiler when we’d only been dating for 2 weeks…

  6. Sending warm thoughts as I sit listening to the tornado warning sirens in Western USA. I’d rather a tornado (swift, remarkably, mmmm, DEFINITE) than the agony of waiting you are experiencing. Every good wish to you and yours–

  7. You go right ahead and grumble for England, you are enduring a perfect storm at the moment, I see grumbling as mandatory.

    Still aqua, and still wearing the rah-rah skirt for you and Turbo. Strength and courage dear girl

  8. Bloody computer posted my comment without my conscious input (Sleeve and touchpad took it upon themselves to help)

    What I was intending to say, before ending in mid sentence, was:

    Strength and courage, dear girl, you have them in spades! xx

  9. *Brings more tea and the really good biscuits* I think howling loudly at the skies would be perfectly acceptable, let alone grumbling.

    Hoping for the best.

    B counts getting the duvet cover on as an engineering problem, and therefore entirely his department. This would be excellent, if he wasn’t of Mr Wombattwo’s disposition regarding frequency of changes.

  10. Rest well and so glad you are going back Friday. Sending more hugs. And these hugs are the extra squeezy kind that really mean something!

  11. Thank you for updating us. If you want any Chocolate Kimberleys sent back to you with HRH Liz, just yell and I’ll slip them in her handbag with the tiara.

  12. Dearest Turbo it is not yet time for you to leave the safety of your mother’s innards. Hang on in there you have lots of growing and developing to do still.

    Oh Ann I am sending many virtual hugs your way. I may even make you a hug similar to the one I made for May although I’ve no idea how I would get it to you.

    Many positive thoughts are heading your way. I really hope that everything sorts itself out soon.

  13. Grumble and grump as much as you need to get through, I’ll do the clucking and fussing. With luck the pain is Turbo barricading him/herself in for the duration, raffishly attired in a miniature tin hat.

    Being somewhat older and as I am the veteran of multiple assorted surgeries we now have separate beds. One of the big benefits is the separate duvets – it is blissful. I get to keep my covers on all night and as a bonus they are in the condition and weights I prefer. The benefit to husband is that he is no longer kicked and sworn at as a regular part of the night-time ritual. We class that as a win-win result 😉


  14. Mustn’t grumble??? As a 12-weeks-of-bedrest veteran I think grumbling is not only encouraged, it is Required. Laying still while in terror of losing the life within is no fun. Grumble away.

    I think I shall need an address. Must send things.

  15. Grumble as much as you like, I say.

  16. I’m with everyone else: you now qualify for extreme and extensive grumbling whenever you jolly well feel like it!

    Hope that everything is settling down internally today.

  17. Awww…. am posting some Hobnob Creams (BOGOF in Sainsburys) down the internet.

    I know that a lot of people think the stop-start nature of bleeding is actually a result of the bedrest, with the underlying pattern being slow and (hopefully) harmless.

  18. Grumbling is essential, I would have thought.

    A lot of hugs for our beloved HFF.xx

    That giveamonkey list.. is that up to date, at all?
    A book or two perhaps?

    • Oh GAWD, I’d forgotten I’d left that up! I bunged it up, hopefully, before Christmas, and left it up for my birthday and mother’s day (even more hopefully), so that John has no excuse for not knowing what I would like, and it also forms a handy repository for anything I see on the net which sparks a ‘Now THAT would be useful!’ thought. In reality, only my mother ever looks at it; John’s gift buying is… eclectic.

      You are absolutely beyond kind, my sweet. But I am well-stocked with books – the Old Man of Hoy pile is still tottering – and I think I have DVDs a plenty on their way.

      • Ah. Foiled again. Now, what to do with the Urge to Spend?

        *Drums fingers, looks out window, imagining Stuff.*

  19. Oh, surely we can allow you a moan or two. Perhaps even a fraction of a complaint?

    Fingers crossed for you and Turbo.

  20. You were joking with the “grumble” comment, right? Because really, if not now, when?

    Take it easy, as much as you can (I know… I can’t think of a much less relaxing time, lying down or not) and get John to put some clean sheets on that bed. It’s in service of your mental health, after all. Many hugs.

  21. Baton down the hatches and rest up.

  22. Just posting to say I am checking in every day to see how you are – with my fingers crossed.

  23. […] In a return to my former Champion Doppling form, I have just picked up 8+4 weeks Turbo on my doppler, chugging away determinedly at 175 bpm still. Probably IS wearing a tin hat. […]

Comments are closed.

%d bloggers like this: