Who Am I?

One preggi mom in a wheelchair

I have a menagerie, three dogs, a hedgehog, a bearded dragon, an African grey parrot, two boys (Numbers 1 and 2), and Mr Stubbles (Nicholas), and a Bean (the future Number 3).

Number 1 and Number 2 are aged 15 and 8 years old respectively. Having been a single mum for several years, I was more than surprised when a second chance at love walked through my door… well, more accurately, walked his dogs in the park…

I never imagined that I would be pregnant at forty. Mr Stubbles and I chatted about it, I chatted to my doctor who said that this was my last chance, and knowing the complications and difficulties involved, decided to go ahead and try anyway …and here we are!

At 5½ weeks, we found out that I was pregnant… though Mr Stubbles had guessed about a week before as I was so horribly moody. 

Our best moment by far was at 11 weeks and 1 day, when we saw Bean for the first time. An oxymoron moment: that surreal feeling of finally knowing that Bean was truly real…watching the little arms moving and the little legs kicking, seeing the face that was already the profile of a baby, and hearing the gallop heartbeat. One of my favourite memories to date has to be looking over at Mr Stubbles, during the scan, and seeing the sparkle light his eyes, and the gentle smile on his lips.

Every good story has a twist…My complications are that I was in a car accident 10 years ago.  It has rather obviously affected my life in many ways, most visibly by the wheelchair that I use. It has made me more vulnerable and fragile in many ways, but I refuse to allow it to define who I am, and make a conscious decision not to let the accident rule my life.

So far, this pregnancy has had huge effect on my life. Through my previous pregnancies, I worked, so in that respect nothing has changed. Only this time, I’m self-employed which makes my life a little more complicated. I had Number 2 after my accident, though I was eight years younger, so I have pretty good idea of what to expect, such as a Bean sitting on the screws which stick up into my pelvis.

But now, I’m also older. 40. I live with well-controlled high blood pressure, physical disability, nerve pain, and depression. The first few weeks were horrendous when I came off some of my anti-depressants and migraine medication. I now inject myself daily with Clexane, courtesy of the bilateral pulmonary emboli (blood clots) that blocked my lungs after the accident. So far, I have completed a month of injections… I don’t like doing it, but for the safety of Bean and Mummy I will persist.

At 14 weeks, the debilitating all-day-sickness that has plagued me, finally started to ease. However, I do still have the odd twinge. At 15 weeks, I’m feeling a little less aversive to some food and can even cope with the odd glass of water and an occasional cup of tea.

Even though we have entered the second trimester, I am still totally exhausted. My body isn’t what it once was, and I need rest much more than I usually do.

Mr Stubbles has been an absolute star throughout the last three months. He has put up with sudden bouts of tears, crazy mood swings, the incessant need for frozen food, backache, having to scratch my back in spots that I just can’t seem to reach, and porridge brains. And loving me through all of it.