Burlesque - The Graded Unit

Let me explain the Graded Unit. 

First rule about Graded Unit, you don’t talk about graded unit.

It takes over your life. 

It takes over all other classes.

It’s a personal project of your own choosing, that needs to fit into one of six categories, dictated from the college.  Each student gets four, twenty-minute mentoring sessions to discuss their ideas and progress on their project.  Each meeting the student is awarded points on their progress.  It’s a bit like a game show because you need to get the maximum amounts of points as once the meeting is over any points you didn’t achieve are lost.  The points are converted into a percentage and that dictates whether you leave with an A, B or C final grade for the year.  You must juggle this project and its deadlines while still handing in the work for all other classes.

The meetings are held at three-week intervals and when I said you get twenty minutes, I mean there’s a timer ticking away just to add to the anxiety of it.  The whole year had to attend a seminar to get an explanation of the points system.  You were actively encouraged to pay close attention to the marking schedule when planning and producing the work.  One lecturer said, “we know already who won’t pull their socks up”, meaning they knew which students wouldn’t be able to step it up a gear for the graded unit, which is totally self directed.

Students had staggered start dates and I was one of the last group so I had 5 weeks to think of a project and my mind went blank.  I knew I wasn’t going to complete second year and I just wanted to make my life as easy as possible.  I was into week four and still had nothing lined up.

Then I went to a Burlesque show with some friends.  I never usually take my camera to events, as it’s so heavy.  It’s also usually really dark and my off camera flash skills wasn’t the greatest.  I arrived a bit early, the dancers came on stage for a rehearsal and I took my camera out just to confirm to myself that yes it was too dark and I wasn’t going to get anything worth keeping.  Just as I put the camera up to my face someone spotted me and starting asking questions.  Did I have permission to take photographs?  I explained I was a student and without a flash I’d get nothing of any interest, which I sort of knew before it left my bag.  Turned out the guy that was chatting to me was the tour manager!  Oops.  He said he tried to get someone to volunteer to take photographs but had no luck.  He said the tour was back next month.  I was trying to dig myself out of my awkward hole and said if he wanted I could put a notice up in the college to see if anyone was interested.  Then he said, "you could come back'.  And, there you have it, that’s how my project was born.

I started doing my research and printed out images from the internet that I wanted to try out.  I was crapping myself about the actual event because I’ve never really learnt anything about using my off camera flash, so I booked a course.  I really thought I’d done so much work and that I would get a fair amount of points.  I was back on IV antibiotics again and my head was a bit up my arse with remembering things and I missed my first mentoring session.  I was not popular. 

I explained the situation and how my medication exhausts me and managed to re arrange my meeting, but this is something they don’t usually do and I felt my card had been marked.  I got four points for my first meeting and was totally deflated.  I needed 51 points just to pass with a C.  I was okay with that, I just wanted a pass but was beginning to think I wouldn’t get there. 

My mentor said I would need to photograph some other shows and not just the Burlesque.  I couldn’t understand at that point why I needed to do more.  He suggested 3-4 other shows and here’s me thinking I was going to make this as easy as possible.  By the next meeting he said do 3-4 other shows.  I was a bit annoyed and said 3-4 you mentioned the first time around or 3-4 plus the 3-4 you said at the first meeting.  He was a bit pissed off with me, but I think there wasn’t really a clear understanding of my situation.  I didn’t get the whole SQA rules (Scottish Qualifications Authority) on how things were marked.

I stressed over the 3 weeks after my second meeting and really thought if I go back for my third meeting and he’s not pleased I may as well give up.  I had barely done anything for my three other classes.  I think I had the attitude that if this graded unit was going nowhere then doing the work for the other classes was pointless.

By my third meeting I’d done so much work.  I’d listened to all the suggestions and I ticked all the boxes.  I pulled my socks up and thought “I’ve got this”!  I also managed to put my project across in a way that fitted the initial brief and he understood how it all fitted together.  He was very impressed and I got a hefty slice of points, which made up for my last two meetings.  By my third meeting I had my C pass in the net.  All I had to do now was complete all other classes, edit all my photos and return to my final meeting with an example of how I was going to present my work.  More points were up for grabs and I really went from strength to strength.  My final meeting was great and he seemed really impressed with how I managed to put everything together.

I eventually walked away with an A for the final year, which I was really proud of.  I know a lot of people probably got an A too, but I felt it was even more important for me as I really got next to no points in those first two meetings.  I really did pull my bloody socks up.  

 

I hope you all like the photos.  I was utterly exhausted getting these and it was a real struggle I'll tell you, because I basically had to bird watch with my camera and take the shot when the dancers stood in a certain place on the stage when the lighting guy had lit them up well.  This all had to be done at the same time, while they were moving.  I was constantly changing settings on my camera.  Thanks to my lovely tall friend Lisa for making sure I didn't fall off my stool.  I want to thank Burgerking for the best whopper with cheese I ever tasted at 11pm and finally a big congratulations to Betty D'Light who I didn't know at the time was expecting her very own Royal Baby.

The Second Trimester

So much happened in the second trimester, some great, some extremely stressful and scary.  Turkey was good for me, just the break I needed and lets face it, I probably wasn’t going to get another for a few years.  This blog is a direct follow on from The twelve week scan

My mum has friends in Turkey, they live on a farm way up in the hills far away from the regular tourists.  It’s pretty basic, almost like Roma villages you see on television.  We stayed for the night and I was really cautious I didn’t eat anything.  There’s all these lists in the western world about what you can and can't eat while pregnant, but in places like Turkey you eat what you have and milk comes straight from the cow.  I slept on the only bed they had in the house, under a mosquito net that my mum had purchased for them a few years earlier.   I lay on the bed listening to bugs flying about and it made me feel really grateful for the life style we sometimes take for granted here in the UK. 

Once home the hospital appointments started up again.  I was seen frequently, usually every two weeks. We were a little upset that my husband missed the twelve-week scan but being seen and scanned again at fourteen weeks made us feel happy.  I actually felt really good in this trimester.  I had loads of energy, no morning sickness and I was out buying or looking at baby bits and bobs every chance I had.  I started a Pilates class early in my pregnancy and when my stomach started to grow too big I found a pregnancy yoga class.  I wanted to be in the best possible shape for what lay ahead.  I also had to think about parting with my beloved pink smart car. My favourite car ever!  We planned a little holiday to Cornwall, driving about and exploring was just the thing we loved doing.  My cousin who lives down that way was seven months pregnant and I thought it would be nice to go visit her, you know so we could compare bumps.  It‘s somewhere I’d always wanted to visit and it was scorching hot, just like being abroad.   My husband was a bit of a Rick Stein fan so we were definitely going to visit Padstow.  It was so lovely, we knew we’d return one day with Daisy in tow.  I bought her first toys in a Rick Stein boutique; at £40 each for some crochet rabbits Daddy Bear needed a little persuasion.  I will treasure the memories of that grumpy face, so to make him feel even better; I bought a bloody cake stand too!

I was really looking forward to starting my first antenatal classes but unfortunately, my dreams of a “normal” delivery were shattered when I was diagnosed with Placenta Praevia.  It can correct itself as the pregnancy develops and plans can change right through pregnancy from one week to the next.  I soon needed another course of IV antibiotics, as my body wasn’t coping.  My CF team were voicing concerns about a vaginal delivery knowing I was struggling to breathe and I resigned myself to the reality that I was going to have a planned caesarean section.  There were a lot of mixed emotions around this time because of the worry surrounding the various tests that are carried out to determine major birth defects.  This included the 20-week scan, which we were looking forward to, but there is always that worry we would find out there was something wrong.  By this time you look pregnant, you have accepted you are going to have a baby.  I could not imagine finding out there was some serious birth defect at this point.  How would we deal with that.  I remember my mum trying to explain years ago that your thought process is completely different when the baby is inside you.  I had casually said in my teens that I wouldn’t keep a baby it if had something major wrong with it.  I used to think a cleft lip was major defect and that I’d never keep a baby with that.  I guess our beliefs change with time as we mature.  We came home with another handful of scan photos and there was a really cool one showing her curled up in a ball showing all of her spine.  The lady said that was the best possible picture you could get to check the spine was normal.  

Even though I was clearly unwell at times, I loved being pregnant and our happiest times as a couple since the early years of marriage were around this pregnancy.  As I started to get bigger I suffered from leg cramps and foot cramps.  I think it’s pretty normal, but it was scary at the time.  So many changes is happening in your body and being ill I worried if it was normal or was it just something that was happening to me.  I had a good run of weeks feeling well so we organised a family meal with my late father in law and his parents.  I even went out and bought a new maternity dresses for the occasion.  I was feeling really good.  I wasn’t that close to my extended family.  Relationships were somewhat strained, but I was slowly trying to accept that not all families are like your own.  My husband was supportive of my beliefs and I was going meet him halfway in being more tolerant of the situation for the sake of our little family.

The Twelve Week Scan

You might recall I was getting myself all worked up that we would somehow be behind with the 12 –week scan.  I didn't know I was supposed to visit my community midwife as soon as I knew I was pregnant.  Why would you know with your first.  Nobody tells you what you have to do. Here's the next part in the Waiting for Daisy series, following on from Two Pink Lines 

It’s feels like nobody medical takes your pregnancy that seriously until you reach certain milestones and the twelve week scan is one of them.  For most this will be the first time you find out your due date, you’ll see the baby’s heartbeat on the scanning monitor or there’s the cliche of Dad fainting when the sonographer announces it’s twins; which probably never happens.  You’ll go home with a little print off and you are so proud of this picture you will mostly likely frame it! By the end of the day you'll have bought something for this baby, maybe that pretty baby book you’ve had your eye on.  It’s such an exciting time bringing a baby into the world and I was beaming with pride, 2009 was definitely my best year. It's hard to keep a lid on the bubbling pot of excitement when you know you're expecting but haven't officially announced it yet.  The difference with me was that pot had been on the boil for quite some time.  Most knew before the 12 week scan because it would've been a bit tricky to keep from people you see day to day or week to week; people that were close knew.  I tried to keep things pretty casual though, not wanting to set myself up for a fall should the worst happen.  However, I did want to make plans because you can't just sit and wait until you have the baby, you should be able to enjoy the things that pregnancy brings.  

I was nervous.  I guess these appointments are also where you might find out it is game over for the pregnancy; something that constantly plagued my mind.  You just try and get through one day at a time.  I’ve spoken to women who just dreaded getting their period every month when they were trying to conceive.  They would sink into depression when Mother Nature confirmed they were not pregnant.  I would say the whole IVF experience was a bit like that.  Living on a knife-edge, waiting for something to go wrong.  This was a huge deal to me.  IVF doesn’t just happen overnight and one day Daisy will realise how much she was loved and wanted.  I think most people with first pregnancies are a little nervous; it’s to be expected.  Then there’s those earth mother’s who have had textbook pregnancies, no problems no fear and maybe a little naive.  I don’t think they would share the same anxiety as someone who has battled to become pregnant or someone who has lost babies in the past.  I knew already how hard a battle it was to get to this point and I still felt very much in battle.  I read my baby book that I got from the awful midwife like a boss!  I wanted to get myself gestationally aware, so I knew what to expect, what was happening and when.    

We arrived at the scanning department and I pretty much knew what to expect, you see it on TV all the time.  Plus I get scans of my internal organs every year, so I know the drill.  The uncomfortable part about the twelve week pregnancy scan is the sonographer pressing down on your stomach when your bladder is so full that you are just desperate to pee.  Your uterus is so small, so in order to get clear pictures of the baby you have to have a full bladder.   When your bladder is full it pushes the uterus to the surface of your body, a bit like how the ballcock valve in a toilet works.  As my name was called we both stood up and walked through to one of the treatment rooms.  I remember thinking I’ve got so much to say to this woman and she’s only supposed to be doing the scan.  I told her that I’d came here after having successful IVF treatment at the fertility centre and that I hadn’t found my community midwife very helpful.  I told her I was concerned that nobody knew my background and that I was likely to be a high risk patient.  Once you are confirmed pregnant by the fertility clinic, that is the last they see of you.  You are thrust into the antenatal system.  She quickly assured me that I would be seen a lot and that I would probably end up having scans every few weeks.  This really put my mind at ease.  I got up onto the bed and pulled my jeans down a little so the sonographer could get to the area where the uterus sits.  You may think it sits just under your belly button but you would be wrong, as it's actually a lot further down.  I always laugh to myself at my annual review appointments because the sonographer always has a cheeky wee look to see if there’s anything in there.  That cold jelly stuff was squirted onto my stomach and I heard myself take a deep breath.  The lady asked if I was ready and there was a tense few seconds before she turned the machine on.  Then she looked at me and said, there is your baby as she gestured towards the screen with a lovely warm smile.  I exhaled

The scan was AMAZING, seeing our baby on the screen for the first time, as a little human being was the best thing ever.     Our due date was the Nineteenth of December, a little Christmas baby for Mr & Mrs S!  I can't even put into words how you feel seeing your baby for the first time.  It's another one of those moments that you'll never feel until you are in that situation.  Even the most hardened personalities would crumble.  It didn’t last long, maybe five to ten minutes.  It's really just a measuring exercise so you can be given a due date.  Nevertheless, it was a wonderful and an incredibly emotional experience, more so because we waited so long for it to all happen.  We wanted this baby more than ever.  We got some really neat pictures to take away with us of our little alien looking blob.  Having a national health service in the UK, there’s never any exchange of money for medical services so I found it really weird when asked to give a donation for the print out of pictures you got.  Really, are we that low on funds that we are asking expectant mothers to pay for scan pictures.  After hearing about my medical history she took us up to the clinic.  I remember the first thing my husband and I spoke about after we came out of the room.  I mean the second we got out the room! Well actually we were whispering to each other like little kids.  We were discussing the sex of the baby while following the scanning lady up the corridor.  We were both convinced it was a girl and I was on cloud nine because I really liked the idea of having a girl but didn’t want to get my hopes up.  I wasn’t sure what my husband’s preference was; he never really gave clear answers.  I thought all Dads wanted a son, you know to play football with and stuff like that but he was different, he didn’t like sport.  I knew he fancied a little Daddy’s girl.

We were sitting in the waiting room to see the doctor.  Monday appointments were for high-risk pregnancies and that was me.  I didn’t fully appreciate why I was high risk.  I thought the main issue was that as the baby grew inside me, it would put pressure on my lungs and I would struggle to breathe as my diaphragm was pushed up towards my lungs.  That’s it, end of, oh and the bugs in my chest possibly going crazy.  I had absolutely no idea of the possible things that could go wrong during a normal pregnancy, let alone mine.  The Consultant Obstetrician that would be looking after me, well I wasn’t overly keen on him.  Years and years of experience visiting the hospital, you get a feeling for the people you trust.  I have no doubt that he was a perfectly capable Doctor but I just wasn’t sure about him at times.  The reason for this was that he was not an expert in CF, so when I would ask questions in relation to CF and pregnancy I felt he didn’t know, he gave the impression that he was guesstimating; not his area of expertise I get that.  However that doubt in my mind made me watch his every move and analyse every response.  I thought it should be the responsibility of this man to make it his business to find out how my pregnancy may affect me and give me as much information as possible.  But give him his due, it was the first he had met me so I had to give him a chance.   He decided to get me back to the clinic in three weeks time.

Now that the morning sickness had subsided, I was feeling better.  Mr S was going back to work for two weeks.  I didn't have to be back at hospital for three weeks, so I booked a holiday to Turkey with Mother for some much needed relaxation.

Two Pink Lines

In the last blog Circle of Life I told you about the most intimate details about having IVF treatment and how I was now waiting to do a test to see if I was pregnant.  Well guess what I am and yes that is a photo of the actual pregnancy test used. 

Trust me, when you’ve waited three years for it to happen it's an important memory to capture.  It worked, can you believe it, it worked first time.  After all the waiting, investigating, blood, sweat and tears we didn't have to suffer the trauma of the treatment not working.  It makes me feel grateful that I came straight home from the hospital and stayed in my bed for the rest of the day!  That two-week wait feels like a lifetime, you try not to think about it and then you just can’t help it.  Then at times, you can’t stop thinking, your mind races one minute and you daydream for hours the next.  You go through all the what if’s.  You start to imagine what pram you might buy, what cot you might buy it really is a crazy experience.  I had a feeling it would work you know, deep down I knew it would work.  However my anxious subconscious needed a little boost to make it through the full two weeks until test day and so three days before I was due to take my hospital kit test, I did a wee secret test and it was positive!  Of course I was very casual on the outside about my findings. I didn’t want to get my hopes up in case it was a false positive, but I just needed a boost. If I'm honest, inside I was Dancing! 

Three days later I did the actual test and it was POSITIVE.  I then allowed myself to get super excited.  Well as excited as you get in my family, we are quite a reserved bunch.  Nobody really seems to jump up and down about anything in company.  I don’t actually remember if my husband was home for the proper test.  I’m now wondering if maybe I did the test on Thursday for him as he was going away, because he didn’t come with me when I went to tell my mum, so I’m pretty sure he wasn’t at home.  It’s all a bit of a blur!  I wanted to tell everyone and I wanted to tell them in person so I could see their reaction, it was like I’d won the lottery.  I got in the car and drove to my mum’s house, but she wasn’t in.  I then drove to my Grandma’s house and she wasn’t in either.  I got to my brother’s house and they were all there!  Not sure why, were they congregating in case the test was negative?  I was on cloud nine and it’s because of that I’m unable to tell you a lot about that day or the days to follow because I was THAT HAPPY I can hardly remember anything!

This was a big achievement though.  I couldn't believe my luck; my body that usually fails me on so many levels didn't this time.  I always knew any attempted pregnancy would have to be carefully planned, saying that I didn't think it would be such a military operation.  I knew I couldn't just fall pregnant, I had to tell the hospital so they could prepare me physically so it was done at the right time for my body.  The excitement of announcing you're pregnant to family is not really as effective when they already know you've being going through fertility investigations and IVF treatment for months before hand.  So the big "I'm pregnant" line never really got much of a reaction if you see what I mean.  Yeah I knew they were happy but I guess what was going through their minds was “what next”, how was I going to survive this pregnancy.  Would my body cope because as I explained before, pregnancy does carry huge risks in CF.   Not so much for the baby, but for me.  You see a baby growing inside you is a bit like having a parasite.  It will take whatever it needs from you to develop and grow regardless. There was also a huge risk that my lungs could be colonised with a nasty bug I have called Burkholderia Cepacia {BCC} I have this bug anyway along with another called Pseudomonas Aeruginosa, but colonised BCC would mean that it could absolutely annihilate my lungs and send me into respiratory failure.  However I felt that was a low risk because my health was fairly stable at the time, if I could just avoid people that were sick, but my CF team had to make sure I understood it was a real possibility.  I just thought in life you have to take risks and this would always be a risk factor if I were to get pregnant myself.  My mother was most likely told I would never have children and never get married because it was unlikely I would make it to adulthood but if you are willing to accept that is your fate, it's possible that's what you'll end up with.  I do struggle a lot with negative thoughts.  My glass is never half full, but I wanted to experience pregnancy for myself.  For me, surrogacy wasn’t an option I was willing to explore at that time.  It got me thinking about fate.  Maybe it was meant to happen at this time, we were meant to have this child.  I wanted to be excited but at the same time I was being quite aloof about the news should the worst happen; I didn't want to tempt fate. 

I had so many plans based on the success of this IVF treatment and I could finally start to get organised and put those plans into action.  I wanted to experience everything that pregnancy had to offer.  I wanted 4Ds scans, pregnant belly casts, weekly photos, a maternity photo shoot, I wanted to breast-feed, go to ante-natal classes, but most of all I wanted a baby girl.  Some people will be outraged with my preference but I knew I would probably only do this once and for me, I wanted to buy dresses and pretty frilly things and wanted to take her to dance classes.  I also thought a girl would look after her dad if anything ever happened to me and I hoped she would be a lasting reminder of me.  In the early days visiting the fertility centre for the IVF seminars, I quickly realised that for the hundred or so couples in the room, some would never have babies and I felt extremely lucky.  The week after announcing the pregnancy to family I went to Edinburgh with my Gran and Cousin GG, we were going to visit GG’s sister and have a nice day out in Edinburgh to cheer up our Grandma.  I bought my first pair of maternity jeans from Topshop and it still didn’t feel real.  I must have been speaking about it every five minutes; maybe I was verging on annoying.  I can’t even fully remember what the argument was about, but I ended up very cross with GG.  It was the start of the emotional side of pregnancy, the hormones roller coaster where all reason is up in the air. 

I had my final appointment at the fertility centre at around six weeks for another vaginal ultrasound for the purpose of detecting a foetal heartbeat.  That was another emotional roller coaster for my husband and I, because I was technically pregnant and I felt pregnant.  I was thinking I was pregnant, but this would confirm it or potentially turn our world upside down.  I was very calm that day, I don't think I thought about the possibility of there not being a heart beat.  I lay back on the bed and tried to regulate my breathing so I wouldn’t cough.  So many things went through my head in the next few seconds.  It was like my whole life flashed before me.  Suddenly the nurse said, there it is "Congratulations" you have one foetal heartbeat.   I don't think I've ever felt that much relief and I think this was the point my husband realised it was real.  I was measuring 6+6 weeks pregnant and was due on the twenty-second of December.  Most people would just be taking a pregnancy test at this stage but we knew right from the start.  The first three months of my pregnancy wasn’t great; I was sick, a lot.  I craved milk, I couldn’t get enough of the stuff.  I was easy drinking four to six pints a day.  Even though I had the morning sickness I was happy.  I was happy I was getting to experience the full effects of pregnancy, something I’d wanted for so long, but it was exhausting for me; it was beginning to feel real now.  I didn’t get off to a good start as I was starting to have chest complications at the time of the embryo transfer and antibiotics were delayed when I needed them.  The decision was taken so they didn't jeopardise the egg collection.  Now that I was pregnant it meant I was restricted to the antibiotics I could safely have and this didn’t help in my recovery.  However, it was important that in the early stages I should try to soldier on with basic antibiotics instead of the lethal cocktail I usually get. 

I made my first appointment with the midwife, I waited a few weeks for the appointment and was concerned that would make my subsequent appointments later.  I had no idea what to expect.  I asked a lot of questions and she rudely told me that I should have made a double appointment if I had this much to discuss.  Like I was supposed to know all this being my “first” pregnancy!  She arranged for my first scan to be done at hospital and I remember being both disgusted and disappointed that I would be almost 14 weeks by the time this was to take place.  I thought the whole point if it being called a 12-week scan is that it was done at the 12-week point in pregnancy.  She also took a blood test from me that day and this was the icing on the cake, it was to be her last meeting with me. I was told to get up on the bed and as she stood in front of me with her soiled uniform, which looked like she spilt her dinner down.  She proceeded to come at me with a needle.  I stopped her and said, are you not going to clean the area first.  She replied, “I don’t usually”.  I told her I would rather she did on this occasion and I never went back.  I think you need to absolutely trust these people if they are going to be looking after you and the most precious cargo you have.  I never usually question medical professionals; I just let them get on with what they have to do.  I’m a seasoned hospital goer.  However this time my attitude was completely different and for you guys out there that do not yet have children.  You wont understand that feeling until you are in that situation.  That mothering instinct starts from the minute you find out you are pregnant.

The changing body

First ever portrait of Daisy Sim