That's possibly the only way to describe the weekend that just passed.
Last Friday night, and less than a week after our six-week ultrasound, I had a bleed. Those are possibly the worst words an excited mom-to-be will ever say.
I had finished work for the day and not long after I got home I noticed bright red blood on the tissue after a trip to the bathroom. It looked like a regular period but I knew all too well it shouldn’t be happening. I screamed but no one could hear me as I was home alone. I gave myself a minute to calm down and rang my husband.
”Hey, where are you now” I asked with a shaky voice. ”I’m around 20 minutes from home, why, what’s wrong?” he quizzed. He knew by the sound of my voice something was wrong. ”I’m in the house and I had a bleed. We need to go to the A and E, but please don’t drive like a maniac. I’ll get ready and we can leave as soon as you get here.” I hung up and sat on the floor. I can only imagine what that time in the car was like for him, but it was an agonising wait for me.
He arrived and we hugged. Not needing to say any more we went to the emergency department. Thankfully it didn’t take the doctor long to see me and I recounted the horror story to him and my husband. He took bloods and checked my stomach for pains. As it was Friday night and nobody was available to scan me he told me to come back on Monday.
I couldn’t believe my ears – come back? How could we wait two more days to find out if our baby was slowly slipping away? I begged for a scan on these grounds alone and was refused. We were advised we could get one done privately. We left the local hospital in a state of shock and disbelief.
We were alone.
Friday night at home was awful. On every trip to the bathroom I prayed for the bleed to stop, to no avail. I scanned the internet for information, which was possibly the worst thing to do. Almost every scenario I read ended badly for baby.
My husband was amazing and patient. The following morning the bleed was no better so we decided the best thing for it was to try get a private scan. Easier said than done - most Saturday clinics are booked solid. My husband found a sympathetic ear in a receptionist and about an hour later she called back with an appointment for that afternoon.
It was hard to know how to feel, I was both relieved and scared. I didn’t want to deal with bad news and felt if it were to be that, it could wait until Monday. However, I knew it was the best thing to do and thank fully we had the money to pay for the luxury of getting it done.
This time around, the wait for the ultrasound at the clinic was an anxious one. There were no pleasantries exchanged with the radiographer and I moved straight to the table. I was so nervous it took me almost five minutes to follow her commands just to get my pants down and get covered as requested. The gel was smeared on my stomach and the search began.
And then, there it was. The baby was moving around and its heart was beating. I cried with happiness and as I looked over my husband was doing the same. The relief was like nothing I had ever felt before. The radiographer advised us not to worry – the bleed was not coming from the baby.
We took the cherished evidence of our baby and hugged outside the clinic for what seemed like an eternity. The photo showed our baby was alive. We were in love all over again, this time with the pea-sized creation with tiny limbs that had shocked and surprised both of us.
It’s now Sunday night and the bleeding has subsided but not enough for me not to worry. I’m keeping my appointment for the EPU tomorrow where, hopefully, I’ll get some answers.
Stay with us every week for more from 'Big Belly' as she continues her pregnancy adventure. 
