Turmoil
My Biggest Fear explained the feelings I have had recently and the worries I have about pregnancy this time around. Although the diastasis doesn’t concern me, the impact on my pregnancy certainly does. I have been in turmoil for a number of weeks now. Sharing exercises in prehab is just a distraction. As useful I as I hope it is to others, this is the side that you don’t and won’t see in any of my videos.
It was getting to the point that any feeling of anything, I was convincing myself it was nothing to do with the baby, but what would it even feel like if it was? Feelings like muscle spasms which I would have considered like kicks in later pregnancy last time around, were happening too early I felt and surely it would start with flutters like with most pregnancies? I was driving myself (and probably my husband) absolutely crazy. One night, I decided to call maternity assessment. I had figured there would be no one who could really help, but my midwives are responsible for checking the baby, so I thought they would be my best option.
Maternity assessment were not overly helpful. It was after 7pm and tried to explain using plain language. I had a massive separation after my last pregnancy, and it wasn’t healed when I fell pregnant again. Whilst I appreciated it may be too early to feel movement, it concerned me that something was wrong and I wouldn’t know. First of all, the midwife’s response was, ‘You had a what?’ which wasn’t the most reassuring. She then told me she’d pass a message to my community midwives and ask them to call me. When I asked what would happen, she said they might offer an antenatal appointment to check. Fine I would take it.
The next day it was 4pm and I still hadn’t heard. Not convinced that any message had been passed on, I decided to call the community midwives myself. There was a note on the system but no one had been told. All midwives were out so one of them would be asked to call the next day. Okay 48 hours later - again, not very reassuring.
Typically, I was on a work call when I had a call from my allocated midwife. Every area seems different, but my midwife that I will see at my GP surgery after the 20-week scan until I have the baby is the same as last time, but she is not the midwife I’ll have for labour and birth, as they are based at a different hospital. I will see her after the birth – if I’m lucky. Of the 4 appointments I had over the 10 days after Cailean’s birth, I saw her once.
She didn’t recognise my notes or so it appeared and it took me a minute to realise it was her. I reiterated about my separation and explained my fears. The issue was she seemed a bit caught up in the separation. “Are you seeing a physio? If not, I could refer you?” It took all my willpower not to retort ‘shame no one did that when I needed one first time.’ I told her I’d been seeing physio for over a year and was continuing to see my physios. I said, “the gap isn’t the issue, it’s the impact that has on my ability to feel movement and know if something is wrong.” I.e. let me and my physios worry about the gap – my concern is the baby. Next question, “have you got a tubigrip?” I genuinely do not know how I survived that conversation without blowing a gasket. My midwife is lovely and I have no complaints, but a tubigrip is a sore subject for me. When you’re given one the day after you come out of hospital when you’re told they can feel all the way down to your bowel, and that ‘will sort you out’ and if not, you can go to physio after your 6 week check, you don’t appreciate it being lauded as the solution to all your problems, as if it will somehow miraculously cure your massive diastasis. Oh, if only it was that simple. Funnily enough, Gráinne had already given me one but for functional purposes – support when the bump got bigger, but in particular, support during my prehab exercises. I told the midwife exactly that.
She told me she had spoken to the midwife in charge and they would not scan me. Even if something was wrong, they would do nothing at this stage. A sobering thought. She said they could offer me a check in which they would try to find the baby’s heartbeat, but there was a chance they wouldn’t hear anything at this early stage. This was why they didn’t listen for the heartbeat until after the 20-week scan. It might not mean there was anything wrong with the baby, but that wouldn’t obviously do anything to allay my fears. She was willing to try if I wanted. I knew in my heart of hearts that just wasn’t what I wanted – I would be beside myself if for any reason they couldn’t find it until I had the scan which is still well over two weeks away. I made the decision not to bother.
That night I booked in for a private scan. I hadn’t planned to, but I knew I had to know and nothing would reassure me more. It was booked for the week after my call with my midwife – the earliest appointment I could get. Aptly named the ‘reassurance scan’ – it is designed for 16 – 24 weeks to reassure parents who had concerns or who just wanted to check. It was reasonable in terms of cost, but I’ll be honest, I would pay a small fortune for the opportunity to know my baby is okay – no price is too high.
Out of the blue I had another call from the midwives. Another midwife in the same team spoke to me and said she understood I had concerns and offered me an appointment at the antenatal clinic over the weekend. It didn’t seem like my notes had been updated and she was unaware I had already been spoken to. When I explained, she agreed with my understanding and reasons for not booking an appointment, however, she did say, “what I’m going to say to you Claire may confuse you even more, but it’s likely we would hear a heartbeat and I would be happy to have you in to check.” Well if that didn’t just send my head into a spin. I told her I’d think about it and speak to my husband before making a decision. My husband told me he didn’t think there was harm in trying, and it might just give me the reassurance in the meantime until the scan the following week. From my point of view, it was an opportunity to explain properly, in person, what my concerns were. Not only that, but someone would finally see what I was talking about – my big tummy which looked like all bump and baby, was actually my diastasis as the tissue was soft – they would be able to feel properly and know what I meant. I needed someone to understand where I was coming from and that wouldn’t happen unless I was seen physically, in person.
We made the decision I would go to the appointment. My husband was working, so I asked my mum to come early and watch Cailean while I went to the hospital. They obviously had a clinic to run so I was to go first thing. The night before I wasn’t feeling well at all. I had a sore head, my neck was sore, and my tummy had started to get sore. It was almost like round ligament pain but I’ve given up trying to understand what the hell my tummy is doing now. It’s baffling. I hadn’t been sleeping great but I’m guessing the worry was playing into that. I went to bed anxious but I ended up sleeping reasonably well. I know that because I dreamt about my dad. That only happens now when I’m in a deep sleep. When I first lost my dad, I used to not know he was gone in dreams and would wake up only to be heartbroken all over again. Now, as the years have passed, even in dreams I know that it’s not normal that he’s there. I woke up with a feeling that was his way of letting me know he was there – that either meant everything would be okay, or everything wasn’t going to be but he was there for me.
After everything that has happened to me, I am not religious, I am an atheist. I truly admire people who have faith to rely on, but I was never that religious to begin with and the loss of my dad; my gran two years later; and my best friend two years after that, was enough to tell me I actively couldn’t and didn’t believe in God. When I worry about something, it’s my dad I ask to help make sure everything is okay. That’s exactly what I did that day.
The hospital was more or less deserted and I walked the long corridor to the antenatal clinic. The sound of my footsteps seemed magnified as there wasn’t a soul around. There wasn’t even anyone on the reception and I had to ask at their office door. The midwife I had spoken to on the phone took me to the treatment room and I explained what had happened. She said she would start by trying to find the heartbeat and then we would do other checks on me. My heart was absolutely pounding and I was terrified. She examined me first of all and remarked ‘Oh you do have quite a big separation, don’t you?’ I told her it was probably close to 9cm when I had Cailean, if not possibly wider. She asked what size he was but I said he was only 7lb 10oz. Finally, someone knew what I meant – this tummy was just soft tissue lying down and not uterus and baby as it would appear when in standing. It reminded me of what Antony said in one of our consults – ‘you just standing there Claire, puts more pressure on your abdomen than you doing a chin-up.’ It’s pretty clear to me, that that means there have been significant changes in my diastasis since I last saw Lyndsey and Gráinne. Time and the ultrasound will tell if I can get to Gráinne in a few weeks, but I just have a feeling the way things are going prehab wise, and the look and feel of my tummy, that this process is happening and fast.
The first thing she heard was the chord. It’s amazing how that can sound like a heartbeat but in reality, it’s the blood pulsing. My heart leapt initially until she clarified. She asked if I had moisturiser on my tummy as it seemed to be causing interference, but I didn’t. She tried to find another position and finally confirmed what I had been desperate to hear – my baby’s heartbeat. My eyes filled with tears as I heard it, I was so relieved. She counted 150 beats per minute which she was happy with. My own pulse was fine too, although I’m pretty sure if it was my heartbeat she was measuring, it would have been going far quicker than normal. She asked me if I had been anxious in my first pregnancy and truthfully the answer was no – I had the usual worry to know everything was okay, but nothing like this. This pregnancy is just so different I feel completely out of my depth.
She then took my blood pressure, which although low for me, was normal. She asked me if I had felt anything at all. I told her I had felt what felt like muscle spasms, but I am convinced it shouldn’t be as strong as that to begin with, so was probably my abdominal muscles given everything. Finally, someone agreed with me and said ‘it might be difficult to feel the same way given your separation.’ Weird that I would find that reassuring – it’s not in the slightest, but it has confirmed my suspicion since I started worrying about this. There is a chance I won’t feel movement the same way – it may be harder to feel, it may take longer to feel, and it might not feel the same as my previous pregnancy or any normal pregnancy. She told me not to worry about it just now, and even if I struggle to feel it, I will of course be getting my checks. However, once I did feel it, any change I was to call maternity assessment.
Not for the first time in that hospital I held it together, and then got to the car and dissolved into tears when I called my husband. I was just so relieved but the pent-up anxiety, frustration and worry had come to a head now that I finally knew things were okay. I was still crying driving home (thankfully only a five-minute drive) and started again when I saw Cailean and my mum. That wee innocent face running towards me with a big smile, happy to see his mummy just broke my heart. I am just so incredibly lucky and grateful that I was able to get that reassurance.
The reality of my situation now, is that when (hopefully) I start to recognise and feel the baby’s movement, I will just have to make sure I monitor it way more closely than I did with Cailean. Thankfully, there is an app that has a kick counter so I’ll just have to use that and if I have any concerns, I’ll call maternity assessment. It may be the case that I’m on the phone more often than I ever was with Cailean, but to make sure my baby is okay I couldn’t care less how often I call.
I’ve made a promise to this baby that I will try to be less anxious from now on. I said to the midwife I knew stress wasn’t good for either of us, but I can’t help it. I do feel though, I’m almost putting this baby at a disadvantage and it’s just not fair. From now on I’m going to make a conscious effort to try and relax where possible. If there’s something to worry about, I’ll usually worry, but for my own sake, and most importantly, the baby’s, I have to try everything I can to avoid that.
On the prehab front, it may be regressing quicker than I thought, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s not at the forefront of my mind. I apologised to my physios for not holding up my end of the deal and I truly meant that. If this is going how I think however, it may well be no amount of prehab could slow down the rate of what’s happening. It pales into insignificance in comparison to the health and wellbeing of my baby. I know my physios would absolutely agree.
It took me until now to realise the worst part was not the significance of my diastasis, or the fact that I will end up getting surgery – it’s the way it’s impacting me in my pregnancy. Forget the progress; forget the size; forget the depth; and forget the tension. Forget any expectations I previously had on what this would be like, particularly in pregnancy. This has affected me far more in almost 18 weeks of pregnancy, than it did in the 18 months prior. Yes, I have already shed tears over this; yes, I have struggled mentally and physically; but in pregnancy, I am losing the battle mentally and emotionally with what is happening to my body because of my diastasis. No physio or surgery can cure that. No amount of weightlifting can lift the weight of anxiety that is currently a recurring theme in this pregnancy. I do not have mental health issues – I know people would understand if I did – and this is not a cry for help; this is raw honesty about all aspects of my journey which is what I set out to be when I started this blog. I have people I can talk to, it’s just that it’s hard for anyone to understand. That’s why this is my outlet. I am sharing some of the most private and intimate details of my journey because this is warts and all. As I’ve said before, my hope is that one day this just might help someone in the same position.
My body let me down massively after giving birth, but the main thing was it kept my boy safe until he was ready to meet us. I just have to hope that after all the ways it’s failed me since, it provides the same safe environment for this baby until the time comes.