Oh Baby Baby…

1 Mar

So the other week I was checking Google reader for updates on my favourite blogs, when I spied a post entitled ‘happy news’ and I clicked on the link, intrigued.  The big news was that the blogger had quit her full-time job to focus on her blog, and that she and her husband had adopted a cat. You know what I thought her happy news was? BABY. Yes, my thoughts went straight to ‘she must be pregnant!’ which is clearly because I am mad. Or obsessed.

About 6 months ago, after three miscarriages and two years of confusion about exactly what the problem is,  the hubs and I were about to embark on a very different approach to my healthcare.  At the time, I was regularly consulting with a nutritionist who recommended acupuncture. Lie on my back for an hour after a 9.5 hour workday? In a dimly lit room, calmed by incense and burning oils? Well alright then. If I must. I went along weekly and always felt calm and relaxed afterwards, I liked the acupuncturist and even though I wasn’t really sure of how it was helping, I was open minded when she suggested a course of herbs which are supposed to introduce order and regulation to your periods.  One of the issues caused by miscarriage later than 8 weeks is that your cycle often fails to readjust, making it even harder to try the next time.

The condition with taking the herbs was that we wouldn’t ‘try’ to get pregnant for 2 months, to give the herbs a chance to work. At once, my (otherwise pretty quiet) religious conscience kicked into gear. Not try? At all? All kinds of halachic issues popped into my mind, and my conclusion was – this isn’t right.  I am not one  – in fact, I am the opposite of one – for getting rabbis involved in my personal life. It’s never been that clear to me why religious Jewish adults can’t make decisions for themselves instead of calling a rabbi for help every 5 minutes. Really? Your knife fell into the wrong sink, so you’re going to call your rabbi? But suddenly I understood a small part of what it’s about. For the first time ever, I wanted to call a rabbi just to have them – a much more knowledgeable, if not wiser, them – decide this for me. But within a day or so it was sparklingly clear to me that this was a very personal decision, one that D and I needed to make together. Except, we didn’t really know how to call this one.

It went down like this. We ordered the herbs (not cheap), I did all the necessary preparations, I gathered all the advice I could find about taking them.  I reconciled myself to taking them, just for 2 months we wouldn’t try and we’d see if it helped. Day 1 – sitting at my desk at work, I checked the timing was right, I measured out the correct amount of herbs, mixed them with a tiny bit of water and swallowed. And then promptly SPAT it all out into my bin, choking. You know that teaspoon of Cinnamon test? It was like that, without the funny YouTube upload. Vile. Horrendous.  Upset, I emailed the acupuncturist who advised taking with more water. Day 2 – tried again. Almost vomited.  Why was it so hard to swallow down some herbs? Gross tasting, ground up herbs, but still.

After drinking down a litre of water to get rid of the taste, my conscience woke up. Not just woke up, but gave me a good slap round the face. We couldn’t make the decision for ourselves – so I decided to believe that a higher Force had made it for us.  Was my body rejecting them on purpose? How was I supposed to NOT try for a baby for two months? It didn’t feel right, or natural, and I didn’t want to stop.  Even knowing the cycle of pregnancy-hope-miscarriage-disappointment-surgery-recovery that potentially awaited me every month we carried on trying, I didn’t try taking the herbs again.  I told the acupuncturist that as much as I loved the treatment, I was taking a break. And the next month – a positive test.  A positive test?! Two strong, purpley pink lines. In the bathroom of an Aroma near my office, I cried. Hesitancy. Anxiety. Wait a few more weeks. And a few more.  A scan. Don’t say anything yet, don’t be excited yet. The stirrings of subdued hope.

24 weeks+5 days later (yes, I like to count the days too) baruch Hashem! I am pretty much still experiencing the same feelings – hope and anxiety, but also (finally) excitement. This is the first time I have ever carried past 13 weeks, 16 weeks…20 weeks. I thank Hashem every day that we didn’t stop trying, that I couldn’t swallow the herbs.  I pray that this baby is healthy, that he (yes, he!) continues to grow and thrive and kick and hiccup and that he is SUPER cute, because this heartburn is seriously killer.






3 Responses to “Oh Baby Baby…”

  1. Gabi March 1, 2013 at 13:33 #

    Makes me so happy 🙂 xxxxx

  2. Katie September 2, 2013 at 13:50 #

    I only just read this, can’t believe I missed it. Made me cry (but then I am a bit of a wreck right now…) – such a happy ending – and beginning of the life and times of Ozzie!

    • danniibee September 2, 2013 at 14:50 #

      Yes,it was Ozzie all along! How’re those late stage pregnancy hormones treatin ya!

Please leave a reply! Thanks - Dannii x

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