it was the parsely that worked for me
Yesterday we had the big scary 12 week nuchal translucency test. And I am overawed to say we passed it. Actually we freakin' ACED it.
I cannot say how amazingly truly wonderful this is. Despite being a 'recurrent aborter' (don't you just love medical terminology?) we now have the same chance of losing The Peanut as any other pregnant couple. It still hasn't sunk in. After the scan we went shopping (we both needed new work shoes) and we slunk into the baby section of David Jones'. We looked at a few things and then slunk out again without buying anything. I still can't shake the feeling that one day I will start spotting again. But I needent. There are good odds that, come February, we will be encumbered. Happily so.
The funny thing is, that when we asked obstetrician supervising the scan (not my regular) about my risk given that I had had 3 miscarriages, he said "I wish you could have spoken to the lady I have just told has miscarried her first pregnancy. She was so sad, she had to leave the place with tears all down her face" my first reaction was to have told that woman "Hey I have had three, you can do it too!". That is PRECISELY the sort of thing I HATED hearing after a miscarriage. (In fact, I am wondering what I will do once I become obviously pregnant and I have to anaesthetise for a miscarriage D&C. Ask to do something else? Probably.) The best thing that my counsellor did for me was to acknowledge my fears that I would never be successful. I didn't want to know about all those other women who fell pregnant after their third, fourth or seventh miscarriage, I wanted to know what would happen to ME.
So, what should I say?
1. You did nothing wrong.
2. I really really really know what you're feeling. I'm truly sorry you have to have this pain, I know how awful, crushed, alienated and lonely you feel.
3. Hibernate. Or not. Do what ever you feel like. Howl. Moan. Shout at the cat. Eat chocolate. Excercise compulsively. Go for a long drive. Stay at home. Your own feelings will tell you what is right. Don't let anyone tell you how to feel or what to do.
4. Get counselling
5. Plant a pot of parsely next to the back door. It doesn't matter if it is curly leaf, flat or Italian, any kind will do (although I planted all three). My dad told me this; it's a folk remedy never known to fail. Given my grandmother spoke fluent Gaelic (despite being 4th gen Aussie) I am guessing it's Irish in origin. Keep it well watered, and healthy. You can use it for cooking if you want, so long as it is there.
It worked for me.
GASNEWS: Me and T have both got Viva invitations for the exam. Anybody know which herb to plant for that? I'm guessing Papaver somniferum, maybe be Digitalis or perhaps whatever Curare is from.
Speaking of medical euphemisms, I reckon 'muscle relaxant' would have to be one of the biggest porkies we use. To the layperson, 'muscle relaxant' sounds akin to a nice deep muscle massage, the kind that leaves you floppy and relaxed and kind of Zen. Bollocks. Try 'paralysing agent'.
I cannot say how amazingly truly wonderful this is. Despite being a 'recurrent aborter' (don't you just love medical terminology?) we now have the same chance of losing The Peanut as any other pregnant couple. It still hasn't sunk in. After the scan we went shopping (we both needed new work shoes) and we slunk into the baby section of David Jones'. We looked at a few things and then slunk out again without buying anything. I still can't shake the feeling that one day I will start spotting again. But I needent. There are good odds that, come February, we will be encumbered. Happily so.
The funny thing is, that when we asked obstetrician supervising the scan (not my regular) about my risk given that I had had 3 miscarriages, he said "I wish you could have spoken to the lady I have just told has miscarried her first pregnancy. She was so sad, she had to leave the place with tears all down her face" my first reaction was to have told that woman "Hey I have had three, you can do it too!". That is PRECISELY the sort of thing I HATED hearing after a miscarriage. (In fact, I am wondering what I will do once I become obviously pregnant and I have to anaesthetise for a miscarriage D&C. Ask to do something else? Probably.) The best thing that my counsellor did for me was to acknowledge my fears that I would never be successful. I didn't want to know about all those other women who fell pregnant after their third, fourth or seventh miscarriage, I wanted to know what would happen to ME.
So, what should I say?
1. You did nothing wrong.
2. I really really really know what you're feeling. I'm truly sorry you have to have this pain, I know how awful, crushed, alienated and lonely you feel.
3. Hibernate. Or not. Do what ever you feel like. Howl. Moan. Shout at the cat. Eat chocolate. Excercise compulsively. Go for a long drive. Stay at home. Your own feelings will tell you what is right. Don't let anyone tell you how to feel or what to do.
4. Get counselling
5. Plant a pot of parsely next to the back door. It doesn't matter if it is curly leaf, flat or Italian, any kind will do (although I planted all three). My dad told me this; it's a folk remedy never known to fail. Given my grandmother spoke fluent Gaelic (despite being 4th gen Aussie) I am guessing it's Irish in origin. Keep it well watered, and healthy. You can use it for cooking if you want, so long as it is there.
It worked for me.
GASNEWS: Me and T have both got Viva invitations for the exam. Anybody know which herb to plant for that? I'm guessing Papaver somniferum, maybe be Digitalis or perhaps whatever Curare is from.
Speaking of medical euphemisms, I reckon 'muscle relaxant' would have to be one of the biggest porkies we use. To the layperson, 'muscle relaxant' sounds akin to a nice deep muscle massage, the kind that leaves you floppy and relaxed and kind of Zen. Bollocks. Try 'paralysing agent'.
posted by jen at 10:44 PM
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