A tale of 3 pregnancies.

I'm almost 41, and 25 weeks pregnant. This is my third pregnancy; it was planned, hoped for and will be well-provided for, in a stable and loving relationship.

In 1995, when I was in a long term relationship but using a IUD / coil as contraception, I had a miscarriage of an ectopic pregnancy that I did not realise had occurred. Did I mourn that pregnancy? No. It was over before I made any kind of idea it had even happened - that baby never existed to me.

In 2003, I got accidentally pregnant from casual, fun, protected sex. I had cyclical bleeding which corresponded to my usually erratic periods, so by the time I realised I was pregnant, I was at about 10 weeks. I was not in a relationship, I was a year and a half out of 6 years of regular psychiatric care, I had no job. I was not in a stable place. I had put all the money I had into a long-held dream ticket and was a month away from 7 months of travel around the world. All of these things individually made me decide that having that baby was not the right path, for both of us. But it was not an easy decision. I was aware of my pregnancy for a further 4 weeks, I lived with it constantly, with the knowledge that I might never get the chance to have another child. It was a dreadful feeling, that still echoes in me. But it was the right choice, and it completely cemented in me the knowledge that being a mother was something I really wanted to do, if possible, but to do well, at a better time for me and hopefully my partner, and definitely for my child.

Had I not made that choice to have a termination back then, I sincerely doubt that I would be carrying the baby that I do now. I would not have met and fallen in love with her father, we would not have built a life together that is a loving and stable framework to raise a child in. I would certainly not have learned the lessons that will help me to raise our daughter well.

There is no way of knowing for sure that I would not have made a good Mum back then - but I know I can be now, I have the best chance of my whole life to do so.


Last evening I spent about half an hour talking with the pro-life protesters outside the Calthorpe Road clinic in Edgbaston, Birmingham, which is where I had my abortion in 2003. I'd driven past it after work and been outraged to see the emotive poster displays on the pavement of a 21 week foetus (almost all terminations happen before 10 weeks). I wanted to stop then, but I knew I'd be incoherently angry, so I went to fill the car up as we were almost out of diesel, and as I sat in a pump queue with all the panic buyers, I mused on what it was that I actually wanted to say to them. And then I went back past them, stopped the car, and had a word.

There was quite a lot of shouting to start with, but in the end, it crystallised my thoughts about this issue, and people's right to deny the choice of their destiny to others.

There was a big debate about "when life begins" - they insisted that it was at the moment of conception. I disagree. At that point, an individual's life is not definite. The natural miscarriage rate is estimated to be at least 20% of all pregnancies - so even though that event of a sperm meeting an egg has occurred, that life is not definite. We lose millions of eggs and sperm that do never make it to be a person. Why does this event confer upon that collection of cells the right to decide the fate of the donors of its DNA? Why does the power shift at that instant, the rights exchange? Had the same people performed the same act a day earlier or later with the same DNA, then this conception might never have occurred.

I believe that until a foetus is able to survive outside of its mother, off the umbilical cord, it is not an individual, it is an extension of the mother (and a tiny but vitally important bit of the father). Therefore I feel that it is the right of the mother to decide what happens to her, and what is growing inside her. She must weigh the evidence before her and her feelings and do what is right for her and any children she may have - now or in the future. And it must be her decision, because it will affect her life forever.

The pro-life protesters did not agree, they said it was murder, that I should have carried the child to term and given it up for adoption. This option is frequently waved in the face of anyone considering abortion. Having got to 25 weeks, I cannot imagine giving this child up when she is born. It would scar me deeply, even if I knew I could not look after her myself and it would give her the chance of a better life. The loss of my own flesh and blood, that I had grown inside me, would be a dreadful burden to bear. Had I been forced to continue with my second pregnancy, I'm not sure I would have been able to go through adoption at the end of it, despite the knowledge that I was in no position to give my child a good life. The idea that people feel they have a right to force me to undergo such misery due to an unfortunate accident astounds me.

I told the pro-life campaigners that I did not think they should be hanging around outside an abortion clinic, pressurising distressed women into feeling even more guilty about the decision they had come to. I explained what it was like for me to go through the process of making the choice to end the life of the potential person inside me, how much it had affected me, how much it had stayed with me, and how much it had haunted me afterwards, not knowing if I would ever get the chance to be a mother again. But still being convinced that it was the right decision to make. They claimed that all the women they had talked to were distressed about their decision, which they felt was proof that it was the wrong choice. I asked them if they had considered the fact that it was a difficult and awful decision to make, so it should be distressing, even if it was right. I also pointed out that I had at no point been directed one way or the other, I had been given information and offered support to make my own decision, by unbiased healthcare professionals - and didn't that seem fairer than approaching me at a time when I was distressed and forcing me to feel their judgement of my perceived guilt?

I asked them why they were so focussed on the lives collections of cells that were unable to survive without maternal support, of these potential people who may not have made it to term anyway, when there were children and adults living in poverty and deprivation on the streets of Birmingham barely a quarter of a mile away? I asked them why they did not take their laudable desire to protect and help others and direct towards helping people were here, now, and definitely needed their help?

They had stopped arguing back by this point. They claimed to be Christians, and yet they were there, judging the actions of others despite that being against the guidance of their faith, bringing further misery to others, not comfort.

I really wish that we were able to reduce the need for terminations through better education and proper use of contraception. I hope one day to live in a world where abortions are not necessary. But I genuinely believe that my own experience demonstrates that they can help women to achieve a better life for their families and themselves, and thus to society as a whole.

Girls rule, boys drool (25 weeks)

It didn't take me too long to get used to the idea of having a girl. Now I'm just really looking forward to meeting her and to watching her grow. To loving her. And helping her to be happy and fulfilled. My kind of girl. I'm not going to repeat a pattern because circumstances are different, I am different. My Mum didn't choose to struggle with motherhood, it's just how it happened, because of what happened to her, and wasn't her fault. She did the best she could at the time. The good far outweighed the bad, and that's all you can ask for.


We are now fully excited about the arrival of our daughter. I am swelling like I've swallowed a football, but all checks are fine, and the only real change to my life as yet is giving up cycling to work due to a sudden outbreak of nosebleeds.

T has become fascinated with the growing bump. He keeps rubbing my stomach like I am a lucky Buddha, which is lovely.

Almost as exciting is the fact that after a small outbreak of bargaining, we have convinced our landlord to sell us the house we live it, which has the potential to become a brilliant family home.

Everything is falling into place.

Definitely maybe

Rosa Frances Trobridge.


Frances was my Dad's mum's name. She was the person in my family that I resemble most, in many ways.

Rosa, well, that's partly for my first cat, and partly because of Rosa Parks.

And Sparks. Rosa Sparks.

Mid(term) life crisis

So, on a chilly and miserable drizzly day, we went for the 20 week scan at Birmingham Women's Hospital, and I had a bad feeling about it before we even got there. Snippy ultrasound woman was not welcoming, and told T off instantly for taking a photo of the scanner, with a sharp "We do not allow photography or video of these scans - how are you going to feel if I find something seriously wrong with the baby?" - which just made me more uneasy.

Most importantly, the baby's development is absolutely fine. Stomach, kidneys, bladder, spine, brain, umbilical cord all where they should be, and working fine. Sparks was curled up tightly asleep, at the back, so it was not possible to get a clear image of the heart valves, so prissy but thorough woman said we should come back in 2 weeks to complete the scan. T had told her that we wanted to know the sex of the baby if possible, and just at the end, she said that "there is something indicative of it being a girl". But didn't say what, exactly. She's put it in the notes, so she's probably sure.

I'm under consultant care because I'm an "elderly primagravida" aka first baby at 40 and my BMI is 33 (I'm carrying a bit of weight but I'm just sturdy - I can run 5k in 28 minutes). Saw the registrar and he said he didn't think I needed to be with them any more, so has discharged me back to community midwife care. Which is nice. I did say I wanted to have the baby in the birthing centre which is attached to the hospital, but nicer than a delivery ward, but I'm slightly too old to be allowed to, as I'll be 41 by 2 months at that point. He said that if all goes well, and I don't put too much weight on and remain fit, then it should be ok.

So why have I been in tears since we left the hospital, pretty much?

It's most likely a girl.

I didn't want to have a girl. I wanted a boy.

There are so many reasons that I can think of for this:

- I'm not a girly girl, I hate Barbie, and princesses and dolls and beauty and the whole pink culture that pervades out society that your worth as a female is based on how pretty you are and how good you are.

- I am really dreading having a child I cannot relate to - there may well be years ahead where despite all of our best efforts, she becomes a princess, and that will be hell for me to live with, not liking my child - and she will surely pick up on this.

- I get on so much better with boys than girls - we understand each other, have so much more in common. Girls don't really like me much, as a rule. And I don't like them either. We don't speak the same language or have the same sense of humour or ideals.

- it's difficult being a girl, much harder than being a boy. You are more judged, more at risk, you have to fight harder to get what you want and be who you want to be.

On the way back from the hospital we witnessed a car accident where a young woman had driven out across a road because she hadn't seen a man coming along it without his lights on, and so he t-boned her. We waited with her until her husband arrived, because I was worried about her. If she had been a lad, I would not have waited for his help to arrive. I will worry about my daughter more than about my son, for the rest of their lives.

I tried to explain this to T last night when we got back, but I don't think I got it across, he seemed to think I was disappointed because it wasn't a boy. I talked to my Mum and Dad about it (separately, they have been divorced for longer than they were married). My Mum said "Oh well, never mind", and then proceeded to tell me how I was like her mum, not wanting her "because she wasn't a boy". I tried to explain it wasn't like that, and she spoke of how it was good that the baby was healthy, but a shame it wasn't a boy since we have so few on our side of family (3:1, now 4:1). And then she reminded me how horrible I had been to her as a kid. Not my brothers, they were fine. Just me. Hmmm.

My Dad said that it was fine, that he was only kidding when he said that he wanted another boy (he has, by marriage, a further 3 girl grandchildren!). He was sure that my daughter would be a girl like me and that was great because I was better than any boy.

Couldn't sleep well, full of guilt about how upset I was. Just unhappy. Dragged my arse to work where I dodged all the questions about the scan, and carefully told everyone that the results were not conclusive, so we had to wait another fortnight to know. This included T's family, although unbeknownst to me, he had told them separately that it was a girl. Everyone at work very disappointed, but I couldn't tell them it was probably a girl because I just felt the tears welling up every time I thought about it. And then I felt the guilt for begin such a bad person that I would feel this way about my child before I even met them.

I am so worried about voicing these feelings to anyone female, that they will judge me as a bad mother, but I managed to leak a bit onto a gaming forum I am part of, where there are virtually no women, and so they invited me to join their Dad's group. Somehow it was ok to wail at them about this mess. In the process of letting out my despair, amidst their reassurance that all would be well once the baby was here, I had a revelation.

I'm not disappointed in the baby for being a girl, at all.

I'm just terrified that I am going to fuck up being a mum to a girl like my mum, and her mum before her. Contribute to the endless tunnel of failure.

That I will warp their view of themselves, feel threatened by them, and be unable to fully support them because of my own insecurities as a woman. None of this comes into play with a boy, in fact, I'm so comfortable with men that I would probably end up begin super indulgent and spoil a boy, if we have one. But a girl - I have no good idea as to how to bring a girl up - I'm not a normal girl, I'm basically a boy with breasts and girl bits. So a) I don't want to mess her up, and b) what if she thinks I'm weird and not cool, because I do not stack up against the cultural identifiers of womanhood that she will be inundated with throughout her life?

I'm already threatened by my daughter and she isn't even here yet.

This is so stupid.

But it's how I feel. I don't know how to change that.

I hope she likes me. I hope she is like me.

I'm bloody glad I didn't wait until the birth to find out, this is going to take some getting used to -these feelings would have been a first class ticket to PND if I'd waited until I was exhausted before facing them.


Having said that... it's still not 100%...

I'm so confused.

Healthy though. That's the important thing. And 50% me, so maybe we'll get on ok. Maybe...

Calm down dear, it's only a baby

Panic over, for now. After a tearful few days, I found a lot of people to talk to who all underlined they fact that although it's a massive challenge, it's worth it. I can visualise all of the difficulties and stresses, but the benefits are hard to imagine, because they are so novel, there is a connection waiting for me that I have never experienced.

So, I'm trying to stop worrying so much.

It's hard. Distractions are useful. Talking to people helps.

In 6 days we will know if we have a girl or a boy. Eep.

Almost halfway... (19 weeks)

Last week I had a full body horror panic about the child growing inside me.

A few days later, I sleepily rolled over onto my stomach and had first contact in the firm of two definite kicks to my abdomen from inside, as if to indicate displeasure with the internal pressure. This really freaked me out. There have been several other movements since then. I guess it will become mundane in time.

It's sometimes intriguing, and I'm biologically curious, but right now, it's really unnerving, it's such a weird feeling. This is compounded by the fact that I've been seeing babies everywhere and I don't go "awww", I just don't feel any great connection or excitement with other people's children. I think about the practicality of what lies ahead and see only the difficulties, with dread - I cannot fathom the benefits. I keep wondering if we are making the wrong decision, if this is going to change our lives in a bad way, if I'm going to be able to cope. What if I don't bond with my child? What if I get really depressed? It's happened before, how do I know it won't happen again?

In 9 days time, we have the 20 week scan, we will see our child again, and we may well get the chance to find out what we are getting. I should be excited, but right now I'm really not. The closer we get, the more anxious I feel. But it's basically too late to turn back now. I'm so scared that I'm going to fail at this and it's just too important.

16 weeks, starting to fill up

Still not in any way obviously pregnant, but I'm starting to notice my clothes are getting fuller. Not so I can't wear them, just less room, especially after eating, and if I get constipated (often).

I think I can feel the fundus (top) of my uterus just above my pelvic rim, but I'm not completely sure. I'm a very deep person, it seems. Lots of room inside.

Things I like about being pregnant: fascinating process, 5" long now, 5oz, the size of a turnip (Baldrick!) . People wanting to help carry things.

Things I do not like about being pregnant: people telling me how everything is going to be for me, when really they are just telling me how it was for them. People telling me I can't cycle any more - which is bullshit. I am very careful anyway not to have accidents, why should that change? Cycling to work and back is 30 mins of useful, valuable exercise every day, which should help with birth and recover fitness, as well as potentially help my child to avoid obesity. So I'll be keeping on pedalling

I told work, and they are all pleased, well, the ones I have spoken to, anyway. Not sure all the senior management will be too keen on me sodding off for a year. But there you go. Turns out that I do actually get some (6 weeks) maternity pay too, which is great news. My boss is very pleased, which is lovely. I had feared she might be upset as she had tried very hard to conceive herself and was not able to carry to term, and I know singer of that awkward pain that comes when reminded that someone else gets what you want so much but cannot have. But she is long past that, apparently - she is just pleased that I get the chance.

Still not counting my chick yet though. One of my best friends lost her baby last week at 18wks, incompetent cervix. She tried to hold on for 5 days but couldn't. They made her deliver it, and there will be a funeral. It's so horribly sad, everything seemed fine, but for whatever reason it was not to be. I am so sad for her and her partner, they are trying to accept it and move past it but it seems impossibly hard, such bad luck. Stoic as ever, she says that she had rather this happen now with a definite end than be delivered of a premature baby with terrible difficulties. I have tried to help as best I can, by doing what she asked of me and letting people know so they don't ask her about the baby by mistake. It's hard for her to have me about in some ways, which I do understand, but I want to help if I can. Her 18month toddler is helping her as well I think. He's a good distraction.

On a purely selfish level, I am also upset because we had planned to be mums together, to see each other daily as we live 5 street apart and she was only 4 weeks ahead of me. I did not fear the year ahead as much because I knew I would have her to help me through it every day. Now much of that is lost, and I am facing the daily learning curve more alone. I was really looking forward to spending that time together. Oh well.

Tomorrow I have my 16 week check up with the midwife. This is a very good thing as the further I get from the 12 week scan, the harder it is to believe that it's all real until there is more to show for it. Sometimes I find myself half-convinced that it's all some crazy illusion and I'm not pregnant at all.

I dare say once I'm bigger I'll look back on these days with envy.

T is telling me I am not allowed to start thinking of names until we know what flavour we have. Would it be cruel to name my baby girl Serendipity?

I have bought a few baby things but am trying not to get carried away. Things are also starting to arrive from others. I really need to get this house sorted so there is space. Out with our crap to make room for the baby's. Assuming they ever arrive. One thing I have learned from this past week - assumption is the mother of disappointment.