Hello and welcome to my slightly self indulgent pProm Queen blog. If you haven’t clocked it yet pPROM stands for Preterm Premature Rupture of Membranes. My waters broke at 21 weeks 3 days after a long and difficult multiple pregnancy, well, half a pregnancy. Since then I’ve been in and out of hospital for the last few weeks and on bed rest at home so this is really to keep me amused and offer some hope to anyone in the same position who stumbles across it. I’ve found very few examples on the Internet of women who have ruptured early and kept going but it can be you! I realise not everyone is this lucky but I have a feeling people with a positive outcome post less, hence all the sad stories.
I don’t know what the next few weeks will bring. I don’t know if it will turn out alright for the two new lives inside me. But if there’s one thing I can do it’s to remain optimistic and try and stay still. In fact, they’re the only things I have at my disposal and a blog seems a good distraction and a suitable way to mark an extraordinary pregnancy. We’ve beaten so many odds to get this far I wish I’d put money on it. From IVF, to early pregnancy bleeds, to the news that it was one baby, then two, then three and then two again after we made the sad discovery that one of the identical pair of boys had a massive cystic hygroma as a result of Turners syndrome and wouldn’t survive. The remaining twins lasted five weeks post procedure before the boy’s waters went. We thought we’d got away with the triple amniocentesis and a complicated procedure to separate the identicals called Radio Frequency Ablation. Having faced the agonising decision to take a gamble on all their safety by having the procedures, the healthy twin boy turned out, incredibly, to be genetically different to his brother against unfavourable odds. And now my brave remaining boy and girl are soldiering on, keeping each other going with nothing but a leaky, infection-prone, old sac between them and the world outside. The girl, of course, has a luxury penthouse compared to her brother as they are in seperate sacs (I think she will be a bit of a princess) but their fate is tied. If one comes out they both come out. My little peas have been through a lot before they’ve even taken their first lung full of air and I’m so proud of them. There’s no way this can end here. I want eight more weeks and two more healthy wonderful children. Why not? I keep wondering whether this is all happening because I’m just too darn old to be having babies. I’m forty next year and I feel about twenty but nature knows better. Still, it’s too easy to blame yourself and not much use. You have to keep the faith that it will turn out alright.
A blog is a new adventure for me. It doesn’t feel entirely natural to put it all out there for the world to read, and I expect only a few kind friends will bother, but it is already proving quite therapeutic and gives me something to do in hospital on the new iPad which I bought in desperation last time they let me out. Leave a comment or share your story.