Two perfect little kidneys.

Two perfect little kidneys.

We received a letter from Liverpool women's foetal medicine unit, they had made an appointment for us the following Thursday. So I went back to my old routine of lying in the sofa, something that an active person finds increasingly difficult, I can tell you!
I couldn't just lie around and do nothing the whole time. If I was able to venture out it was somewhere where I didn't have to walk far and I could rest. I remember going to the Point of Ayre with Alfie, Mum, Dad and the dogs. Upon arrival, Dad pulled a sun lounger out of the car so I was able to lie down while Alfie played and the dogs chased around like crazy!

Sometimes people who are in charge of your care forget that, this is everyone's baby; child, grandchild, niece/nephew, great-grandchild, great niece/nephew an addition to the family that would be welcomed by everyone. It's not just the parents who feel this, it's everyone. Everyone feels it as the ripple spreads. Close friends and family did their bit to help when they could. And as an fiercely independent person part of me hated being the patient, but another part was so touched to see how supported we were.

Another trip I made was to marks and spencer. Because I had been told repeatedly that my child would not survive, and that when in Liverpool women's I would be offered a termination. It was like everyone had written him/her off and made me realise that at any point the baby may be able to fight no more. I felt like I needed to get something for him/her because all hope seemed lost even though we were all doing everything in our power for the baby to hold on a little longer.

I chose 2 small rabbits. There was so much choice, some toys were overwhelmingly big for a baby that could potentially be born so small. Two simple rabbits with pink noses. One for us to keep and one for the baby to keep regardless of the outcome. It was something I had to do to be prepared.

It's a strange situation to be in, being able to envisage two comes simultaneously and attempting to prepare yourself for both too, because at the drop of a hat either could be possible. Of course you hope for the best, but when your situation is so dire you have to prepare yourself for the worst. For your own sanity.

The week before our appointment meant many conversations had to happen. And most of them conversations you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy in their darkest of days.

Liverpool!

It's funny being put in a different place and not seeing a familiar face, even if it's a glint of familiarity. Nothing. It's unsettling when you're from a small place and you would definitely have recognised a face or two.

Everyone in the foetal medicine unit is there for a reason, and never normally a happy one. Don't get me wrong, they have lots of positive outcomes, but in those waiting rooms there are lots of brows furrowed with worry. All high risk mothers or babies. I don't know how we did it, but after a mammoth wait in the waiting room, we were finally called through. I don't know where my mind had been, but I had managed to put out of my mind the real reason I was there!

Until, that was, I lay down on the bed in the room waiting to be scanned. Everything can be completely unfamiliar, a completely different city, hospital, room, but when you see that bed, with the universal white roll, the bottles of gel, the scanner and those screens, you can pretend no longer. Everything is the same. Unless a miracle has happened, there's going to be no drastic reprieve.

I cried before the doctor (who I know now is a professor, not a doctor) set foot in the room. He was different though. He put me at ease immediately. He even joked about the fact I had tears streaming down my face and he hadn't even spoken.

As much as I wanted the scan to check everything was ok, I dreaded it. I didn't want to hear again that my baby wouldn't make it.

Especially with the less than 1% chance we were given at our last one and the fact we had been told we would be offered a termination. I did not want to be asked that question. Those words sent shivers down my spine even thinking them.

The professor put us instantly at ease just by his manner. He scanned me in silence. Taking in every detail throughout his thorough examination of the baby, to see if the baby really did have problems with their kidneys and if they had stopped growing, which had been mentioned at the last scan too.
Even in the blackest of times a change of face, opinion and experience can reassure you the tiniest bit.

There was a small pool of water.

The membranes had visibly broken.

The baby was perfect measurements.

The baby had 2 perfect, fully-functioning kidneys.

The baby was perfect.

A termination was not offered.

Someone believed in our baby and was willing to give them a chance!!!

There were still lots of ifs, buts and maybes. I could still go into labour at any given time. The baby's lungs may have not developed enough to survive, but we had something.
I would be scanned again in 2 weeks in Liverpool at 24 weeks gestation, if I got there. And if I did I would be admitted to Liverpool women's to give my baby the best chance.

There was hope. There was a plan.

Two things that had previously been missing in action.

Baby bump the day we went to Liverpool for our scan. ❤️