Barren Mare

Whew

And the results are in...a risk ratio of 1 in 8,743 for trisomy 21.  I didn't get the other numbers for the other trisomies but was told categorically not to worry.

I think we're going to be OK without further testing.

Annnnd, I haven't thrown up once today! It's all good.

Onwards.

Bite down on this

We had the private scan on Tuesday, and all looked great. Nuchal fold measuring 1.1mm at 13 weeks 4 days. Nasal bone noted. Lots of wiggling and twirling and what appeared to be a bit of thumbsucking.

Results from the combined blood work due tomorrow- I'll get a phone call later in the day to discuss with the doctor. I've been completely calm, calm, calm about the whole thing and then today began a slow decline into nervous, nail biting wreck. Meanwhile, morning sickness continues pretty much unabated- my entire lunch was revisited this afternoon and some extreme lightheadness coming on in great, alarming swooshes (doctor says low blood pressure for the latter.) I finally gave in today and lay down under my desk with my feet up on my chair for a couple of minutes until the worst of the grey zone had passed, really not caring who might see me. In short, I continue to feel like hell most of the day, leading me to conclude that if getting through the first trimester resembled a zombie death march, the start of the second is proving more of the same, only with slightly more meat on my bones.

Too much information

To celebrate getting through the first trimester, my internet decided to throw intermittent tantrums and go on strike altogther for awhile. No matter, I remain almost completely unable to stay up beyond 9.30 pm in the evening which leaves time for approximately nothing beyond maybe reading a few pages of my latest book.*

I posted, um, elsewhere, about my dilemma regarding whether to get two rounds of nuchal translucency testing-one available for "free" on the NHS and one privately. Since it may help someone in the same confused state, I'm going to post here as to what we went with in the end.

Just to summarise- I really like the doctor who did the early private scan and had some reservations about doing the test on the NHS, since it has only been offered since January in this area. My last experience with the sonographers was that they were a little on the...abrupt side, shall we say. So I was keen to have the nice doctor do it, albeit niceness and skill comes with a price tag. However, she warned against doing two tests, on the basis that this could give conflicting results. But since my NHS scan date was before the private test date, I began to swither about actually turning down the option to get an opinion, especially on the NT measurement when we were right there having a look anyway.

I asked around and I asked the internets. Some folk thought that two tests could do no harm, really, or even be better, since surely more data is preferable, right? Especially if the results turned out to be basically the same. Well, the view I came to in the end is probably no. Google yielded two examples of women who had ended up with a private scan result and an NHS result that were wildly different. Interestingly, in both cases, the private results were good and the NHS ones terrible, although I'm not sure that is a reliable benchmark of anything.

What did happen- in both cases- is that despite having excellent private results, both women felt compelled to then go get an amnio. After some further pondering, I can see why. Sure, you may get a great result but then a long shadow of doubt could be  cast and how do you ever completely remove that from your mind? It strikes me as the perfect formulation for headfuckery- and there's plenty of opportunity for that elsewhere in pregnancy without paying over £200 for the privilege and still ending up on the pointy end of a an amnio needle.

So, I was resolved going forward to forego the NHS testing altogether, but we could still have the scan for further dating purposes since why not take a look and see how Caveat was doing in there as long as it was on offer? Then, prior to the scan I had what they call a "booking-in" appointment with my midwife. This appointment is basically to get details into the system such as height, weight (arggggh! It was the clothes, I swear, heavy clothes!), information about previous pregnancy and birth, general health, allergies, family medical histories, favourite colour, preference for the window seat or aisle...etc.

The midwife quizzed me about my NT scan preferences and I explained going private yaddayadda, then she quizzed me some more about why. I thought at first she was going to be me a hard time but in the end quite the opposite. She knows the doctor and likes her too and ultimately, it's my choice so fine and dandy. She did, however, suggest that maybe while we could skip the blood test, we could just get a NT measurement on the NHS scan date and then we could file that away for future reference at the private scan if we wanted. And despite my prior self assurance that no, no, no, no peeking allowed, I said, sure, why not, since this is pretty much what I had been hoping they would say all along.

Then we went along to the scan yesterday and the sonographer (who was as no-nonsense as I remembered from the last time) flat out refused to do any such thing. "All or nothing," she said. I hadn't ticked the right boxes on the consent form, and the midwife was wrong to have said that- and just no. So I lay there with the baby doing somersaults before settling down to what looked like the perfect position for taking a measurement, feeling completely belittled and kind of stupid. That said, the capacity for NHS staff to reduce me to this sort of state is one of the reasons I wanted a private test in the first place.

The scan was otherwise good-now measuring 13 weeks which is several days ahead of where I thought we were but obviously Caveat is keen (and something of a show-off, too. After performing some flips and rolls, s/he gave us a big wave and put its feet up for a little rest.)  And we came away with some good quality scan photos, one of which clearly shows what looks to my admittedly untrained eye as a relatively slim nuchal fold and some nasal bones. So that at least was encouraging. On to the private scan early next week- and hopefully a risk ratio to mull (obsess?) over by Friday next week.

*Florence and Giles by John Harding, thus far a deliciously Gothic delight.

One day

So, I went to London to see Anna H. and Thalia, just for the day. Due to numerous and varied logistical complications, staying over wasn't much of an option. Normally, I would never attempt to go to London and back in one day, unless it was for work- and even then, under the circumstances I would almost certainly decline. However, when Anna H. comes to town, all kinds of exceptions are to be made, and for good reason.

The itinerary involved my getting up at 4.15 am to dress, wash and drive self to the airport in time for a 7am flight. Landing by 8.30 am, on the Gatwick Express to Victoria by 9.30am and then by sitting down with friends to Sunday brunch- a soup bowl sized latte and basket of fresh baked bread in a charming little restaurant in Marylebone High Street by 10am.

Despite our long internet association, none of us had ever met in person before and yet within about half an hour we were dissecting our marital relationships, our varying bouts with infertility, parenting, what happens when parenting doesn't happen, career paths, plans for the future and a little bit of gossip about ye old blogosphere of old.

Having made time to come and meet us that day despite having other things on, Thalia endured a certain amount of grilling about the state of her marriage and even paid for our meal afterwards, which was extremely nice and good natured of her. She is delightful, in a measured and searingly intelligent way. Very kind. Very perceptive. And we both marvelled at how she manages to juggle all she does, and we are selfishly wishing she had time to blog more about it all.

We parted ways with Thalia after a couple of hours, with Anna and I heading off to make our way the East End and Spitalfields market. It was somewhat astonishing that between the diversionary tube works and the amount our mouths were running that we didn't end up completely off piste in, say, Hackney, but with the aid of a bit of old fashioned and Google mappage combined, we made it to our destination. Proceeded to wander and gab and sometimes pause for breath in what had potential to be total sensory overload. We wandered the stalls with no particular agenda- I hoped to buy Botany something shiny but nothing caught my fancy. We drooled over stylishly cut dresses and covetable fabrics. Trinkets and baubles, retro cameras and old classic Penguin edition books. We bought more food- Anna partaking of a delicious, savoury Caribbean flavoured dish and me a chocolate cream filled donut item aptly named "the Kong".

Rounding a corner, we came across a stall selling skirts- and a wonderful coat with a pig patterned inner lining and circular embroidery up the back, which I instantly fell in love with. After much swithering and a further wander before returning to try it on and then an endless wait at the world's slowest cash machine and no doubt testing poor Anna's patience, I bought it. It's a kind of wrap-around cut and should be serviceable as a winter coat to fit me for the duration of my (caveat) expansion right through to December- or so I hope. I usually have all sorts of guilt pangs about buying myself expensive stuff these days. But each time I look at it hanging up next to my bed, it reminds me of my day with Anna and all I feel is joy.

Sated on the market (and now out of money) we hopped the tube again for a wee detour to look at something in John Lewis in Oxford Street. Afterwards, carrot cake and tea in the coffee shop. It started to rain a little and it was time for me to start to make the long trek back to Gatwick. We parted at Oxford Circus station and the whole way home I thought of the 1,001 other things I meant to ask Anna. I think we could have quite honestly filled a whole week and not scratched the surface of things to discuss. She is hands down some of the best company I have ever enjoyed- warm, gorgeous, bright, witty, easy going, kind and entirely worth the effort of traveling for one day in London.

Tube. Sweltering in the relative London heat. Back to Gatwick on the overcrowded train. Exhaustion starting to set in and realising I urgently needed to eat something other than cake and cream donuts. Rushing through security, only to have endless wait in terminal. Loitering by seafood bar watching people swilling bubbly and eating £395 caviar. Made do with £1 Boots chicken salad sandwich. Flight finally called, mad dash to the gate. Boarded then sat for over an hour on the runway while overtired baby in back treated us to operatic wailing. I won't tell you how many times I nearly threw up. An hour flight, then finally back on home turf, stagger to car, drive home. Circle the block endlessly unable to find parking space. Park miles from flat. Limp in the door, bedraggled and utterly wiped out at 10.30pm.

To sleep, smiling.

Tryingmester

Nothing much new to report here at 10w3d. Still queasy, occasionally outright sick. Still unfeasibly exhausted and good for absolutely nothing by 8pm. Still craving random foods though not quite as much. Still expanding in the waistline at an alarming rate. Looking rotund, in a "hey, who ate all the pies" way rather than pregnant. Work has gone bonkers, with my desk piled high with crisis but all I want to do is crawl into a dark place and sleep for three weeks.

I am really, really looking forward to being done with the first trimester.