Journey of a Soprano

TRIGGER WARNING: this blog details arrest, resuscitation and medical procedures which readers may find triggering and distressing. On June 12, 2019 we welcomed our second son Timothy into the world, by planned caesarean at 39 weeks. The start was promising, he was alert and curious and vocal, weighing in at a solid 8lb 3oz. My pregnancy had been uncomplicated, despite flying to Australia and New Zealand around 25 weeks for a fortnight, suffering unbearable and persistent Braxton Hicks from 21 weeks, awful itching of the soles of my feet and palms of my hands, and two occurrences of "elephant foot" which earned me lots of poking and prodding, hours on the hard seats of A&E and MAU, two scans for thromboses, and shots of Clexane. Mental health is another post all of its own. After experiencing a very non-vocal baby when our first son Christopher was born by emergency caesarean, it was quite the shock to hear this little guy expressing himself. Whilst adjusting to the...

4 September 2018 Today is one of those days where the blog title is both a figurative and literal description of events. I am well aware that my openness about this topic will likely raise eyebrows and possibly unleash a load of derision and judgement, however it is also the state of my own mind. A topic which I question even being able to pull apart in my head; whether I am right to give it any attention at all. So here we are, pulling gently into the intersection of ideas and feelings, proceeding with caution. May it be said at the outset that I am not writing this in the pursuit of sympathy. It is my intention to break down the barriers which prevent people from feeling free to speak about these so-called taboo subjects and leave them suffering with the burden of the “unsaid”. I have talked in depth about miscarriage in past posts, documenting our painful experience in the aftermath of the initial scan in 2015. Three years since the loss of that pregnancy came and we...

Sunday, 12 March 2017 It's been quite the time between writings. Much has happened. Many maps have been traversed, pages turned, dog eared, smeared, pencil markings in the margins, chapters closed, and new ones begun. Even now, approaching two years on from the miscarriage, there are still days where it hurts. It's fresh again, and weeping around the edges. It traverses each cycle of the moon behind my eyelids, in that darkened space, healing but never forgetting. In September 2015 we were blessed with a second positive pregnancy test. We didn't dare to hope too hard. After being lulled into a false sense of security by all the symptoms the first time, it was impossible to relax. Every twinge, every tug, every wave of nausea on my morning bus trip, every painful ligament stretch could mean everything or nothing. I obsessively checked for blood, and yet was still afraid to breathe when nothing appeared. We had gone in for a reassurance scan at 7+6 weeks to make sur...