When I agreed to write about my experience with pregnancy and child rearing I suddenly became very unsure about it. I’m no expert and pregnancy issues are often emotive.  I’m rubbish with words and never seem able to say what I mean in a sensible manner.  I once viewed my deceased Granny and said, ‘It’s dead cold in here!’ I probably should have said it was a bit inclement for the time of year.  But no.  Why say something sensible when you can offend everyone around you?

So anyway, I’ll carry on as I usually do. Please bear with me.  This is a PERSONAL account of my pregnancy on both a CF level and a personal level.  I’m not sure how in depth it will be because I often go off on tangents. You could be reading this for years.

Let’s start with some background information. I was diagnosed at 6 weeks with failure to thrive. I think it was a polite way of saying I was scrawny and looked rough.  I had the usual infections when my Mother would pipe up “Ooooh, I think you need antibiotics, your chest sounds juicy”.  Juicy?!!

I had my 1^st set of IVs when I was 11 and then a few more times until I hit my middle teens where I didn’t need them again until my 20s. I left home to where my job took me, which was by the coast. Then I returned back to my hometown to be nearer my parents and start a new job as a Chef, which I loved, once I learned how to stop burning things. It was here I met my now ex husband.

Skip to the bit where we discussed having children. Genetic counselling had taken place. I won’t go into how we came to the decision to go ahead and do it.  I feel it’s too personal and everyone has views on this anyway.  My hubby was not a carrier within the areas they could test.  My health was very good and although I can’t remember what my FEVs were, I know they were high and my SATs were normal. Ok, so far so good. 

I fell pregnant earlier than expected in early 1997 which was a shock to be honest.  We expected to have problems with fertility. I gave my parents heart failure with the news and even the hamster looked a bit surprised.  Funny creatures aren’t they? Parents I mean, not hamsters…..

I needed IVs when I was 4 months pregnant and at the same time was forced to give up work.  My job was physically demanding and to be honest I was exhausted. It was earlier than I had planned.

Towards the end of the pregnancy which till then had run fairly smoothly I  developed a liver condition which made me itch like which made me look as if  I had fleas, this was non CF related though.  I also had to be awkward and develop pre- eclampsia which if left unguarded can be fatal. Not the best of news at this point.  It was ironic that it wasn’t CF that caused me the most problems but pregnancy issues.  I hadn’t accounted for this and I felt more out of control with it.

As a result of all this I was induced 3 weeks early. After an 8 hour labour my son was born.  I was so high on gas and air all I could say was “oh my god, it’s a baby….… what is it?”   I was good though and didn’t ask to swap him for a Westlife CD.

He was beautiful, very hairy but beautiful.  I’d seen programmes where after giving birth, the Mother would be crying and everyone would be crying and it’s all emotional. Trust me NOT to be like that, I was almost disappointed.  I think I was too much in awe of what I saw to feel emotion in this way.  All I know is that I didn’t put my son down for 4 days.  It was surreal.  I was 23 and suddenly in charge of not just a baby, but a whole new person. A person I didn’t even know but yet the love I felt for him blew me away.  It still does to be honest, but more of that later.

The months following the birth were both amazing and extremely hard work. The routine seemed never ending and my health took a distinct battering. I needed home IVs when Adam was 8 weeks old which was an interesting addition to the routine.  Before the IVs I breast fed which resulted in some spectacular weight loss that would make the most hardened dietician tremble.  I was getting thinner and my son was getting fatter. As a result I was forced to give up with the breast feeding which for some reason I found very upsetting, not least because I knew my impressive upper half would shrink.

The first year was very difficult at times. It wasn’t helped by the weight loss, night sweats and a manky chest which I hadn’t experienced before at this level. Then I had chicken pox 6 months after the birth which resulted in pneumonia.  It was very scary because it became my first experience of needing oxygen.  Despite being fairly healthy I had ended up seriously ill with a 6 month old baby to look after.  I thought I’d covered all aspects and I was thwarted by a non CF illness which in turn made my CF kick up a bit of a stink. I think I was more annoyed that for a few months I had to take it easy and accept help which I hate to do. I put all my energy into making sure my son didn’t lose out and he probably still had 100% of my attention even though I had to nap more than he did.  He must have thought I was a lazy old codger! However after a few months I annoyed my Mother by insisting I was back to normal and to show I was, learned how to swim which helped me get back on top form.

Unfortunately when my son was little more than 15 months old I had a bit of a shock when my marriage disintegrated.  Not that I’m wanting the violins or anything  but it was probably one of the roughest periods  of my life.  When planning for my/our child, I’d thought about al the CF aspects in great detail but had never thought  what would happen if something else went wrong.   Well, you wouldn’t would you?  My glass is usually half full, not the other way round.

Cue a few months of fogginess.  It was here that my health really suffered. I think it was partly down to the stress.  Luckily for me, it was at this point that I was put on DNase.  What a miracle that stuff was. That and Fortisip.  Month by month I would put the weight back on and my chest improved.  I had hit an all time low of 7 stone and I remember sitting in a changing room and crying because a size 8 skirt was too big for me (ooops, fancy crying about that).  My son was now 2 and more and more demanding but luckily he started playgroup for two mornings a week which helped a lot. 

My parents are wonderful people but they both work full time and so the playgroup sessions gave me time to catch up on treatment or housework.  When I say housework, I mean sit and watch Friends that I’d taped the Friday before…..

 Now my son is 8.  I’m er… older too.  There has been the odd set back health wise, but the set backs have been more normal and a lot less aggressive.  When my son brings home germs from school I tend to get them too, but now I am prepared and armed.  I’m still a single Mum, in that it is just him and myself at home.  We traded the defunct hamster for a dog and I can safely say I have never been happier or more relaxed with my life.  My son knows all about my CF and I have never been nagged so much by a child in ALL my life. I think it’s my Mum who has taught him to do this.  Typical. He knows that I sometimes get tired and might need a sneaky kip on odd occasions. He calls Creon ‘crayon’ and if I forget them I get told off and he tuts at me.  Who needs teenagers when you have an 8 year old? If I need IVs then he insists on helping administer them as we watch The Simpsons or something. Luckily I’ve not had IVs for over a year.  He is involved as much or as little as he wants to be with my CF. We have a normal family life with rows, laughs and madness.

 He is extremely happy, balanced and even his hairiness cleared up in the end. 

I can’t get over the fact I have a son.  I feel this every day.  You’d think I’d get used to it, but I haven’t.  I know I’m lucky.  I know I’m spouting cliché rubbish. I hate cliché. However, loving my little boy is the best cliché that I have ever felt. Two days ago my son said to me “Mummy, I’m so glad I was born because I’m so happy”. 

 Maybe he watches too much American TV….