some random musings

Just over  a year ago I wrote a post about how much I hated being pregnant, but how I loved how my body bounced back and how much breastfeeding helped with the weight loss. I had found that after each of my children I had dropped a dress size without really doing much different, except running around after more and more children. I even speculated as to how many I would have to have to be down to a size 10.

How times change. I am now that fabled size 8-10 and have been since October. I hate it. I still look in the mirror and hate what I see. I look ill and drawn. I look tired and no amount of amazing make up or BB cream is going to improve that, especially when my body has me up and down several times a night and regularly waking in pain at 5.30am as all my medication starts to wear off.
Add in the 3 children under 6, who wake in the night because they are ill or who don’t go to sleep because they have had a nap during the day at the wrong time and I am permanently exhausted. 

Of course, I don’t show it all. I try and put a confident, friendly brave face on it but inside I am falling apart. 

The palliative care I am receiving is excellent, but while sometimes the pain relief is adequate sometimes it just isn’t enough. I see the consultants and have to be honest that sometimes I feel the pain relief is adequate and sometimes i am swearing and squirming in pain. If you took one look at me you probably wouldn’t guess it though.

At the moment though, as the weather warms up I am waiting for someone to congratulate me. 

Why? You might ask. Well I told you that my tumour hadn’t responded to treatment and hadn’t shrunk. The truth is, its not just bloating, but I look as though i am 5 months pregnant at the moment and I can only imagine that it is going to get bigger and bigger. 

Now that I have had time to come to terms with the fact that my tumour is growing I have been thinking about what the options are. I wonder whether surgery to remove part of the tumour might now be an option as it makes my stomach so tender and uncomfortable. 

I struggle with lifting my children and cuddling them. rolling over in bed can be painful and no matter how many wheat bags or heat packs I use, how many paracetamol I take I cannot seem to manage the pain. What i need is liquid paracetamol which works incredibly fast and well. but no one seems to believe me, when I have been in hospital i have had to fight for the liquid stuff as it works so much better for me than capsules or tablets. 

Anyway back to the matter at hand. I am slowly coming to terms with what has happened over the last week. But make no mistake I am still coming to terms with this momentous moment. So, i’m sorry if having a coffee or lunch is not a priority for me right now. I need to focus on my health and managing expectations over the next few months. 

Sacrifices

When you first pee on a stick and get that positive reaction you know your life is going to change beyond recognition. You know you are going to have to make sacrifices. 

No more long Saturday & Sunday lie ins with the papers and a huge bar of dairy milk. No more spur f the moment walking weekends to Scotland or the Lake District. Things need planning. 

However having a baby does not mean you have to sacrifice everything. 

Flicking back through thus blog will show you some of the amazing things we gave done with our children. Imogen went to her first music festival at 6 months old, we've been on scout & guide camps. Weeks in the open air with no distractions. My children gave  a healthy respect for outdoor cooking on open wood fires, they have been caving & to the home of scouting & guiding. They have celebrated girlguiding uk's centenary at he top of the London Eye. 

They are also well versed in British steam railway history, they love nothing better than the smell of coal and the slower pace of life illustrated by a steam train.

This is something you accept when you make the monumental decision to have children.

What I cannot accept at the moment is all the sacrifices I am having to make because of bloody cancer.

Everyday I have on this planet is now so precious to me, I am edging ever closer to that moment when my children and my husband will have to move on without me. The time I have left is all about creating memories. 

I did not ask for this. I did not ask to have my lifetime taken away from me. I did no ask to have to listen to unsympathetic doctors who have no idea of what you are living with, have no idea about the realities of living with death being just around the corner and the balancing act you play dealing with that and the demands of a running a household, with a very young family. 

Your life is no longer your own, it is dictated by hospital appointments, district nurse appointments, making sure you have enough pain relief or other drugs in the house or on you to ensure that you can get through another day without weeping in pain or snapping at the children because everything is just so exhausting. 

So today we created some beautiful memories for Imogen. I truly cannot believe that she has been in my life for 4 years. She is a whirlwind of tantrums and determination, of tenacity & love. Her smiles and intelligence are second to none and I would not have missed a moment of her life so far. 

The absolute delight I have experienced in being her mummy is incredible, from the way that she saved half her birthday presents on Thursday so that she could open some when daddy got home puts a lot of grown adults to shame. To the way that she chose her birthday party so carefully. Who would have thought that a group of 3 & 4 year olds would respond so positively to making & decorating biscuits and cupcakes this afternoon, but they did and I am pleased to say that there are some definite GBBO winners out there!!

Coming to terms with my changing body

I have posted a lot about the factors that led to me nagging my GP for every test under the sun to find out what was wrong with me. 

One of the big factors was weight loss. 

I have always been comfortable in my body. I have never dieted or religioùsly weighed myself ( apart from the 4 months before I got married when I used slim fast)

When I conceived Isaac in 2007 I was a size 18/20. I probably weighed about 100kg. However I was happy, I had no desire to loose weight, I did a lot of yoga, walked a lot and ate healthily. At 6' (1.8m) tall I carried it well. Ok, I was overweight but not scarily so.

After Isaac was born I lost some weight through breastfeeding. Yes, really, I did loose weight and then when Imogen was born in 2010 I lost more through breastfeeding and running around after a toddler. I was then between a 16/18, probably about 85-90kg. Still doing the yoga, not so much walking but eating a lot more healthily.

Fast forward to 2011 - more weight loss, people were starting to comment on it. I was doing nothing differently except for running around after 2 toddlers and using the car a lot less as petrol prices crept up and the Volvo drank fuel like it was water!!

I now know that the 2011 weight loss should have been a wake up call to get things looked at. I had a tumour growing inside me which was causing the weight loss. I was down to 80kg and a size 16.

Once I was diagnosed and started treatment things seemed to stabilise. I was a comfortable size 16 and celebrated getting the all clear with some new clothes. I felt good in my body, it had beaten cancer and survived 8 cycles of chemotherapy.

Then 4 short months later, even more amazingly I found out I was expecting baby number 3. At my booking in appointment with the midwife I weighed in at 81.2kg. However I did not have an easy pregnancy and clothes that fitted at the start of the pregnancy seemed to get bigger rather than smaller as I struggled to eat 3 meals a day due to a combination of sickness, pain and exhaustion. 

Once Hope was born I was back in my pre pregnancy jeans within days. I took Isaac to a birthday party on April 14th wearing size 18 jeans, that were too big.

Within a month of her birth I was buying jeans in a size 14. I was thrilled. According to my scales I was 75kg, and this meant I was no longer overweight. I was healthy. 

But the weight loss didn't stop there. By the time Isaac finished his first year at school the size 14's were too big and I was down to 70kg. I couldn't afford  to buy more new clothes. When you are as tall as me, you can't just nip to primary and pick up a few cheap pairs of jeans unless you want them to end mid calf. Charity shops are out too, there aren't generally tall ranges in them. 

Over the summer I tried to eat better. But I couldn't keep the weight on. By the time Isaac went back to school I was 60kg. I had lots of positive comments from people about how lucky I was to be loosing so much weight, how well I looked and what was my secret. Luckily these were people who didn't know me well. The people that know me knew how worried I was.. The tests weren't showing anything. Clear colonoscopies, clear CT scans, clear blood tests. But something was wrong. 

I hated my body now. Clothes hung off me. I looked gaunt and, to me, ill. The Ruth looking back at me was not someone I knew.. I was half the women I used to be. I joked a lot about feeling like a Trainspotting extra, a drug addict. I could fit my belt around me twice. The only benefit was I could occasionally go bra less (not that I did, I was still breastfeeding, but I did not need the support offered by my 38GG feeding bras, I actually got re measured in Debenhams as a 32E and had perky boobs again).

The cancer reappearing has been a blessing in disguise. I knew what was wrong. I was not imagining it. I really was proper poorly. This raised new issues for me. I started to realise that I wasn't going to put all the weight back on. 

In my new Box of Love was an envelope. I picked it up when we went across to Cardiff as I thought I might need cheering up. When I opened it on Friday night I was stunned. Several people had clubbed together a got me a voucher for Next. I couldn't wait to spend it. Imogen, Hope and I went shopping in Cardiff. We got something for each of the girls and then gleaned directions to Next. I'd decided I would get at least one pair of jeans, which I did, in a size 12. They were a little too big but I hoped I would put some of the weight back on. I also got a scarf and some long sleeved tops for layering as I knew that the chemo, cancer and weight loss were going to mean I was cold a lot. To the people that bought me that voucher, you know who you are. The thoughtfulness was amazing. You made me come to terms with my changing body.

I've been picking up a few more bits and pieces now. Mostly PJ's as they are comfy and multi purpose. I tend to put them on as soon as I know I don't have to go out again in the afternoon.

I still have a way to go before I am comfortable in my body though. Being slim, makes me feel taller and seems to make people more aware of my height. Today I went into Next and thought I would try some skinny jeans. I was not ready for that. A size 10 gaped at the back and was baggy around the thighs, as well as making my legs look like matchsticks. 

I'll be sticking to cosy PJ's and boyfriend fit jeans for now.

My body has given up

Since December 2007 I have either been pregnant, breastfeeding or battling cancer and as a result I think my body may have decided it is time to throw in the towel.

No, no, I am not dying but there are a lot of things wrong with my body and I am annoyed that in this quick fix era there is no quick fix for the human body.


Before Hope was conceived I was a comfortable dress size 16. I was happy with this and had started running and doing yoga to try and tone up some of those Mummy Wobbly bits, but was not planning on loosing any more weight. Fast forward to today. I am wearing a pair of size 14 jeans that I bough when Hope was 6 weeks old and they are too big. I have lost at least 15 kgs since she was conceived and I am worried. 

I know that this statement puts me at odds with the vast majority of my sex. Most women would kill to loose weight without having to watch what they eat and excersise, but not me. I have never worried about my weight. Other than 3 months before my wedding where I used slimfast to try and loose a few pounds I have never dieted. Yet, I cannot keep weight on at the moment. I look in the mirror and see an ill looking stranger looking back at me. According to the NHS BMI calculator here I am healthy, but I was also healthy when I was 15kgs heavier and I was also a lot happier.

Add to the unexplained dramatic weight loss all the other health complaints I am suffering and you would be forgiven for thinking that I am on a one woman campaign to use every bit of the NHS!!

I am still having physio for the back pain which came on when I was pregnant.

Then there is the bowel stuff

If you do not like poo related discussions you might want to stop reading now :)

Since having Hope my bowels have become somewhat unpredictable again. I almost feel like I have regressed to how they were acting post surgery. It is explosive, unpleasant smelling, urgent and frequent. Combined with incredible bloating & stomach cramps like I have never experienced before my GP has been able to refer me for another colonoscopy (on Monday so I am starting my preparation tonight) and I have seriously considered cutting things out of my diet.

No, scratch that I have cut something out of my diet. On Wednesday I made the decision that the agony I have been suffering after a sandwich is something not worth the pain so I have decided to cut out gluten/wheat. Actually I do feel better for it. But it is unscientific as I have no diagnosis to confirm whether or not I need to do this. But it does help. 

What doesn't help is this TV advert which has me crazing a large slice of hot buttered home made toast and marmite.

But hopefully come September we will have some answers or some tablets and I will be able to move further away from the toilet!!!

Everyone needs to have Hope

So, you all know I was due to have a baby.

Well, I did, 

Hope Kathryn Hayllar arrived at 17:12pm on Friday 12th April 2013, weighing a tiny 6lb 2oz (or 2.78kg) and is amazing. 

I will post more about her induced arrival in a couple of days, there is something I need to get off my chest first.

Although my pregnancy started off fairly easy with far less sickness and general 'feeling crapness' than the other 2, as it progressed I felt worse and worse. There was the permanent backache that I was discharged from physio for as the physio could do 'nothing else'. I ended up taking cocodamol & tramadol to try and control it (unsuccessfully) and sleeping for no more than 4 to 5 hours a night as the pain would wake me up.
I also had a chest infection at about 30 weeks which led to me coughing so much I would be sick. During the last few weeks, some days, I was bringing up breakfast, lunch & dinner and was feeling so run down it was unbelievable.
Then the piece de resistance. At my 35 week midwife appointment I had glucose & protein in my urine. There had been some traces of glucose in my urine before but this seemed to send my midwife into a panic. Off the back of this appointment she booked me an extra scan to check the size of the baby, despite the fact that I was measuring fine for my dates & an appointment with a consultant.

The scan was lovely. Its always nice to have an excuse to look at your baby. At 35 weeks the baby was guestimated to weigh 5lb, so based on the common assumption that foetus' put on about 1/2lb a week I thought I would be having a baby smaller than my previous 2 (Isaac was 8lb & Imogen was 8lb 7oz). The consultant appointment was another matter all together.

WARNING THIS MAY NOW BECOME RANTY, I DO NOT APOLOGISE FOR THIS, I NEED TO HAVE A RANT!!!

Before I rant, I would like to say this.

If you miss, or turn up late to an NHS appointment you know that there will be consequences. I think that it is disgusting that in this day and age you can book in for your appointment and not be told that the clinic is running 60 minutes late and when you finally get in to see your consultant you are offered no apology for the clinic running late. Not even a polite 'Sorry you were kept waiting.'

So, I drove to East Surrey Hospital for my consultant appointment, which was at 10.30. I arrived about 10.15. The midwife took my blood pressure & sent me off to produce a urine sample and then I waited. Now with the lower back pain I had been having, sitting for a long period of time was really quite painful, but you can't walk around a waiting room too much as their isn't much space for that kind of thing.

I was finally called in to see the registrar at 11.40. So 70 minutes after my appointment time. She told me to sit down, I quite politely said that I would prefer to stand as after so long sitting in the waiting room my back was really quite sore and I needed to be able to mobilize and stretch. At that point she could have apologised for the wait that I had had. No, not this women. Instead she launched into an attack about how she would be unable to examine me if I refused to sit down. I said that I wasn't refusing to sit down, I was uncomfortable sitting down and would be able to lie on the bed to be examined. She told me to get up there then. She offered me no help to lie down or after she had finished examining me to sit back up again.
She then asked me if I had doing my BM pricks. I had no idea what she was talking about and told her this and also told her that I didn't know why I was at this clinic. At this point I'll admit I was quite upset, I was hormonal (& pregnant) but also genuinely confused as to why I was at this clinic and why she hadn't looked at the blood test results that I had had 3 goes to try and get (a whole other story there) and I ended up crying and asking her why was I here and what was she talking about, again. She kept repeating that I needed to be doing BM pricks (still no explanation) and why wasn't I. 
Then I lost it - I told her (again) I had no idea what she was talking about, that I did not appreciate being kept waiting with no apology, that her attitude towards me was quite appalling and (very rude I know) why was I 'only' seeing a registrar rather than a consultant. At this point she went and got the consultant.
I tried to calm down while she was out of the room, but all the pent up fear that this panic had generated was hard to ignore. I have a history of depression & although I tend not to google health symptoms I am a member of mumsnet and spend too much time reading pregnancy and childbirth threads and had panicked my self that I might have a problem with my fluid levels or something else. 
When the consultant came into the room she was not a people person. She called me a silly girl (!) and told me that if I had seen her at the start of my pregnancy rather than the consultant who had signed me off as low risk I would have been deemed high risk due to all my history. I was furious. The women had not even spoken to me and was now making me feel even worse, like I was putting my unborn baby at risk. I told her that I did not appreciate this kind of panic at such a late stage in my pregnancy and that I still did not know why I was here, I told her that I thought it was unacceptable to talk to me like that, to not apologise for keeping me waiting for so long. I also told her that I would have appreciated someone actually looking at my blood results and telling me what I was doing here. 
finally, I got an explanation. There seemed to be some assumption that the glucose in my urine demonstrated that I had gestational diabetes. However this was not backed up by my blood results, from my Glucose Tolerance Test at 28 weeks or the BM prick test they did next or the scan that I had had on Tuesday (& I now know what a BM prick is). But they wanted me to see the diabetes nurse & consultant again.


So, we had Easter, mine involved 2 false labour scares and an Easter Egg hunt with an Easter Bunny and a Butterfly at Standen, a gorgeous National Trust property near East Grinstead.

So, the diabetes nurse. 

Well, she was 30 minutes late, but apologised as she had been called to deal with an emergency. Not a problem, SHE APOLOGISED. Then she had a look at my results. Shock Horror, she thought that it was all a bit of an over reaction. All my blood results were normal, the glucose in my urine was not a concern as it might be that that is the way that my body processes it. There was no reason for me to see her again and she wished me all the best with my pregnancy.

And then back to the consultant ( I was now almost 38 weeks). She was not happy with the diabetes nurse. I had to relate to her (the consultant) that there was nothing showing in my bloods that concerned the diabetes nurse and she was of the opinion that the glucose in my urine was how my body processed it. Again the consultant took her anger out on me. She said that it was not the nurses remit to be telling me that there was nothing to be concerned about and she should have been getting me to monitor my blood sugar (this is what a BM prick is all about) for a week to see if there were any indicators. At this point again I was unhappy. How was I supposed to know that this was what the consultant had expected? I am not a mind reader, and I told her that and maybe she needed to work on her communication with her colleagues (I really can be quite rude when upset and being blamed for things I have no understanding of or control over). She then told me that due to her not knowing whether I had gestational diabetes or not I would need to be induced at 38 weeks.
That turned out to be Thursday, so I had a date and knew that I would be meeting my baby soon.

This has turned out to be longer than I anticipated so I shall let you know about baby Hope's lengthy arrival in a new post very soon.

6 weeks to go

This post will contain irrational ranting and is probably best not read by anyone thinking of becoming pregnant for the first time.

Now that that is out of the way I can tell you a couple of things. 

Pregnancy and me do not get along. 

This time last year I had taken my last dose of capecitabine and my follow up appointment was about 6 weeks away. That was scary. I knew that they had removed all of my tumour and a large amount of lymph nodes around my bowel. I knew that the tests had confirmed that the cancer hadn't spread. I knew that the 6 months of hell I had been through in the form of chemotherapy were over and were only preventative rather than curative (?). But I was still scared. You can't help it. You're only human and however hard you try to focus on the positive the negative always creeps in.

In the same vein this pregnancy has been like this for me. I have seen the healthy baby twice on scans and, although scans are not infallible, know that there is very little likely to be wrong with this baby. I know that going into hospital to have a baby is very different to being refused an ambulance, having to wait 4 hours for an out of hours doctor who diagnoses appendicitis and calls you an ambulance to take you to hospital in the middle of the night. This doesn't stop me being terrified of the prospect of having to go into hospital again.

Childbirth represents a loss of control. You cannot predict when you are going to go into labour. I have had one child born at 40 weeks and 6 days and one born at 38 weeks and 6 days. This one could turn up at 36 weeks or 42 weeks. You genuinely live in the dark. When you have two other children to consider along with school and pre school runs this creates a dilemma. Add into that mix that your husband is starting a new job at the same time and you can see why there is a loss of control here.

For me at the moment though the main concern is getting through the next six weeks. Ever since I pee'd on a stick and it was positive I have had back ache. I have seen the physiotherapist, although to be frank she was very hands off and gave me a couple of stretches to do, which I could have worked out myself, advised me to sit on hard backed chairs and gave me a couple of massages. When I asked for some advice as to whether I would be better seeing a chiropractor or an osteopath she said she wasn't allowed to recommend either. 

The level of pain I was experiencing was getting so bad that paracetamol didn't cut the mustard any more so I dragged myself back to the GP and got a prescription for co codamol. I have now reached the stage where this is not even effective. 
I have just re read the dosage instructions. 

Take 2 tablets every 4-6 hours. Do not take more than 8 tablets in 24 hours.

I was coping on 2 tablets every 5 hours, but this meant that the pain relief was wearing off before I took more tablets and so had to wait for the next dose to kick in which involves spending at least an hour in pain. I cannot wait 6 hours between doses and need to take them every 4, but this means that I cannot sleep due to the pain. I am fighting a loosing battle. 

This has now culminated in me being awake since about 2am, as I took my last dose of tablets at 10pm. I finally succumbed to take more at 6am thinking foolishly I could try and get through to midday before I took some more. I probably got about 20 minutes more sleep before I was joined in bed by Isaac & Imogen. 

So I am writing off today. I may watch the Australian Grand Prix highlights later as I turned it off to let the children watch cbeebies while I dozed. I will also be making a GP appointment to discuss the pain management situation.

Sunday Crafting

Sorry, things have been quiet on the crafting front here at Knitting Novice HQ recently.

This pregnancy seems to have really taken it out of me. 

Well before Christmas I started a Flower Fairies Cross Stitch. Its a tiny little thing, but I have not had any motivation to pick that up, so it is sitting neglected in a box. This was spurred on by the fact that I had a look at all the Flower Fairies Cross Stitch kits I had (9 or 10 I think) and thinking actually it would be really nice to get them all done so I could sew them into some sort of wall hanging.

You may remember my joy when I learnt to crochet. However that joy has been short lived. All I can seem to manage is flowers and things I can complete in one sitting. Anything that involves counting rows, decreasing or increasing is a massive fail. I have tried and tried and tried. I follow so many bloggers & twitterers that love crochet and rave about how easy and quick it is, and I know this must be true as I have managed to do flowers and Imogens huge Granny Square for her cushion. But to actually make something else - a toy or even a heart seems to be beyond me. I have you tubed, I have ravelry'd, I have followed tutorials for Attic 24 and Mollie Makes and have decided that I will stick to flowers.

So you can see why I have become quite lethargic and mojo less. 

But the last couple of weeks have given me a kick. I was sitting looking at the storage pouffe full of wool and the shelf full of knitting books and realised that at some point in the next 8 - 12 weeks I am going to have a new little life to clothe and care for. I know that when that happens my 'me time' will be severely curtailed and so I need to spend some time using up some of the wool I have. Added to that both of the other 2 have had hand knitted cardigans, hats, blankets and toys from mummy & grandma when they were born. I realised I needed to kick myself (not really obviously) and get knitting. 

I am currently knitting a lovely stripy diamond pattern blanket for bump, have taken 3 books out of the library which have some lovely ideas for using up some of my stash. I have also found the socks I made when we went away at October half term and the hat & mittens I knitted for Imogen after she was born and I was bored stupid in hospital.

And so my knitting mojo has returned. I will stick with crocheting flowers and the occasional ball and granny square and accept that I am far more skilled at intarsia, socks, knitting in the round and generally using 2 pointy sticks than I ever will be at using 1

Happy New Year

Wow, didn't realise it had been so long since I last posted. So Happy New Year and all that that entails. 
But anyway, growing a baby and recruiting for the preschool kind of got in the way. I have spent a lot of time with Google and it is not as all encompassing as it is supposed to be. 

Lets ignore the preschool thing & talk about the baby.

This time last year (January 2012) I had had 5 maybe 6 sessions of chemo and was feeling quite positive about the fact that it was coming to an end. I was also still feeling slightly like crap and dealing with some of the milder side effects.
Now (January 2013) I have 15 weeks (give or take) until I welcome baby Hayllar number 3. 

Since the moment I was diagnosed I have dreamt about this moment (well actually, since I am amazingly rubbish at being pregnant, the moment that the baby arrives). The moment that I can kick Cancers arse and prove that just because I have had cancer doesn't mean that you can't move on with your life and have new experiences. 

I have been doing a lot of comparing this pregnancy with my other two. I have to say that this has been the easiest in terms of sickness & nausea. When I was pregnant with Isaac I vomited A LOT. There were incidences in petrol stations, on Christmas Day and at almost every other opportunity. I threw up almost every day from the moment I got a positive pregnancy test to the morning after I gave birth. 
When I was pregnant with Imogen the vomiting started with the positive pregnancy test and there were first thing in the morning incidences, but there were also after I had dropped Isaac at the childminders by the side of the road incidents, in the loos at work throughout the day incidents. It did kind of tale off after about 30 weeks, but I still felt pretty rubbish. I can remember my last day at work, before I started maternity leave vomiting because a customers perfume was to strong. 
This time (baby number 3) maybe my sickness/nausea threshold is much higher as I have only been sick about 6 or 8 times. I have felt nauseous and am still suffering from the dreaded heartburn, but have actually thrown up very little. I can't tell you why - maybe my body is more receptive to being pregnant. Maybe the combination of antidepressants that I took through my first and second pregnancies contributed to the nausea. Or maybe having suffered the never ending nausea of chemo and oxaliplatin my body has decided there are definitely worse things to vomit over.

So there you go, If you suffer from terrible morning sickness during pregnancy, have cancer, then chemo & suddenly things won't be so bad anymore. 

Amazing

Lets take a second to think about all that I have put my body through in the last 18 months.

Before I even knew I had cancer there was the 'anaemia' & 'low blood pressure'
Then there was the Cancer, and not just cancer, lets not forget I had a stage 4 tumour. The only saving grace was that it hadn't spread and was confined to my bowel. 
There was surgery involving an anaesthetist unable to find a vein to inject the anaesthetic and having a central line put in while concious (something I never want to go through again).
Then there was the chemo - only 4 rounds of oxaliplatin as my body just couldn't take it and 8 lots of capcecitabine. It all took its toll.

And now the most amazing thing has happened. I thought that this would never happen again.

I'm currently 15 weeks pregnant with my third child. Against all odds I have managed to not only beat bowel cancer, suffer chemo and all the side effects but about 4 months after getting the all clear my body felt sufficiently healthy & strong to go about the incredibleness that is creating another life. 

So to quote an incredibly annoying cbeebies programme which made me incredibly cross when I was going through hell last year

Brilliant Bodies