Twitter became big news once journalists realised its power as a tool for breaking stories during the Mumbai Massacre in 2008. In the aftermath of the micro-blogging platform hitting the headlines, there was an explosion of professional journalists in the Twittersphere. This growth has been fuelled by increasing mainstream awareness of the importance of social media to the future of a crisis-ridden industry and the elevation of Twitter as a platform for news dissemination, citizen journalism and audience interaction.

So, how are journalists using Twitter? How is the service changing traditional reporting practices? And what (if any) are the rules of engagement with the platform for professional journalists? I interviewed 25 of the journalists I follow on Twitter (most of them Australian with a smattering of South African and U.S. respondents) to find out first-hand.

This is the first instalment in a two-part series written for the US-based PBS website Mediashifton the theme of journalists and Twitter.

Twitter-mania

In Australia, where journalists are literally in a Twittering frenzy, the platform was incorporated into mainstream news coverage of the Black Saturday bushfires which devastated the southern state of Victoria in February. The ABC pioneered the use of the technology during the disaster with impressive results.

(Pic courtesy News Ltd)

And last week, during violent storms and flooding in the states of Queensland and New South Wales (NSW), it was evident how embedded Twitter had become as a component of ABC radio's breaking news coverage. Reporters from remote regions through to network stars and even the corporation's "Managing Director":http://twitter.com/abcmarkscott are Tweeting their way into unprecedented public engagement. As Leigh Sales, anchor of the respected nightly news program Lateline told me: "I'm giving Twitter a red hot go."



But as I watched my Twitter-feed flood with news of the deadly storms, I saw something else racing up the trending topics chart: the London industry gathering #media140 called to discuss the role of Twitter in breaking news. Inevitably, the debate canvassed the views of resistors and detractors who argued "Twitter isn't journalism." Sound familiar to veterans of the great blogging vs. journalism debate? Of course Twitter isn't journalism, it's a platform like radio or TV but with unfettered interactivity. However, the act of tweeting can be as journalistic as the act of headline writing. Similarly, the platform can be used for real-time reporting by professional journalists in a manner as kosher as a broadcast news live report.

Evidence of resistance was also broadcast in Australia this month on Radio National's Life Matters. In an program devoted to the impact of social media, host Richard Aedy declared himself a sceptic and said he didn't see the point of platforms like Twitter. He found some support within his audience -- an older, educated, affluent crowd (disclaimer: I'm a regular listener!). But many called the program to describe how social media such as Twitter could be useful social connectors and information sources. While one of his guests (social connection expert @iggypintado)plugged the virtues of Twitter, another, respected veteran science broadcaster Robin Williams dismissed the platform, proudly telling listeners he was very connected and yet didn't even own a mobile phone.

However, the producers invited listeners to participate in the discussion via Twitter and the experiment was a success. Twitter users -- some of whom had never previously heard the program -- tweetedtheir way through it, posting hundreds of comments and making an impression on the sceptical host. I was invited to appear on the next edition of the program to discuss the Twitter political reporting experiment I conducted last September with my students and the emerging role of Twitter in journalism. By that stage, there was less "But isn't it just inane public belly-gazing?" and more "It strikes me this is a little like citizen journalism," which was good to hear as the program's weekly talkback sessions are a natural bridge to social media enhancement and potentially a younger, expanded audience.

Nevertheless, Twitter (in conjunction with other social media platforms) is changing journalism and these changes need to be carefully scrutinised with open minds.

How do journalists identify themselves on Twitter?

Most of the journalists I interviewed tweet openly, acknowledging their professional identity and real name in their personal Twitter page biographies, even if they use an online nickname. Only one locked his account, meaning he had to approve potential followers before they would be able to view his tweets. However, several deliberately withheld the name of their employer to avoid perceived conflicts of interest.

But the themes of trust and credibility, honesty and transparency came up constantly as significant features of successful social media engagement and most of the journalists I interviewed had connected the dots.

"Because I use Twitter to source content (and) find news tips, I think it's best to be open about where I'm coming from," said Gary Kemble, the ABC's Online Opinion Editor. He's also responsible for the broadcaster's @abcnews and @articulate Twitter feeds.

The ABC's national youth affairs correspondent, Michael Turtle agreed.

"I think the very nature of Twitter lends itself towards having an open profile and being honest about who you are," he said. "The power of the site is the ability to connect directly with people and engage in conversations. It wouldn't be nearly as effective if you chose to do that anonymously."



When asked why he tweeted openly, John Grey, online editor of Brisbane's The Courier Mail, said: "Call me wacky, call me weird, but I think people are more likely to have an interactive relationship with a human rather than a bot."

Freelance journalist Rachel Hills acknowledged her upfront tweeting as being consistent with the need for interactivity between the reporter and the audience in the digital age.

"I have adopted this relatively open approach because I view the future of media (or at least the kind of ideas and issues based work that I do as a freelancer) as being about hosting and facilitating conversations -- interacting with the people who care about the work that you do is vital," she said.

However, ABC Adelaide news reader and producer, Jacqui Munn http://www.twitter.com/tohbee reflected the caution that some journalists feel about the merger of the private and the public that occurs in social media spaces like the Twittersphere. She switched from tweeting openly to anonymously once her journalistic identity was revealed.

"I wasn't looking to use it to communicate as a journalist and didn't feel comfortable being judged professionally for just shooting the breeze with friends and other somewhat anonymous acquaintances," Munn said.

How are journalists using Twitter?

Professional journalists are using Twitter to enhance and augment traditional reporting practices. It's another tool in their kit and many journalists, like ABC radio producer Andrew Davies, are now logged onto Twitter throughout their working day.

"I try and start my day by looking at what people are saying (and) talking about on Twitter," he said, "I love being able to read all the fantastic links to interesting websites, ideas (and) news that people have sent out."

Reporters I interviewed are using the platform to "broadcast" links to content they or their news outlet have produced in an effort to build a new audience. Some also contribute to, or manage, organisational Twitter accounts on behalf of their employers. A few use it as a live reporting platform and some employ applications to share images, audio and links to other online content they find interesting. And many are using it to crowdsource contacts, story angles, background and case studies. In fact, when I began researching this story, my first move was to tweet a request for journalists to respond to questions about why they were on Twitter and how they used the platform. I received useful feedback and uncovered a number of new contacts via this method before conducting more extensive online interviews.

The ABC's Michael Turtle uses Twitter regularly to monitor public debate which he acknowledges influences his storytelling.

"It sometimes helps to use Twitter to gauge opinion on an issue," Turtle said. "You would certainly never claim the views online are representative, or seek to pass off a collection of tweets as an accurate poll. But it can point you in the direction of certain views, which can help guide some of the questions you might ask or angles you might follow-up."

Most journalists I interviewed monitor the feeds of sources on their beats as an adjunct to website and email accounts. They check their competition and try to keep up to date with hot industry issues. For some, it's replaced their RSS news feeds and for others it's a way of networking with peers and developing mentors. It's the end-of-day bar debriefing and a reporting tool rolled into one.

Journalists Marketing Themselves

As journalism and entertainment continue to merge, and reporters increasingly become media personalities, image conscious journalists are gaining awareness of Twitter's power as a branding and marketing tool. This is paramount in the mind of the ABC's Leigh Sales who has developed an Australian Twittersphere cult-following with a unique blend of news and wit. She says the jury is still out on the real value of Twitter to her.

"It's hard to see the application for me, given that I only have 1,000 or so followers, yet my program rates around 300k." But she pointed to the potential value of such a following in marketing her books.



However, journalists are also beginning to see the value in using Twitter to interact with their audiences, recognising the inevitable breakdown of old media strictures that separated news producers and receivers and reinforced a top-down approach to media consumption.

"Like other broadcasters and newspapers, we use Twitter to alert others to new stories and to invite feedback -- but we don't believe it should stop there," observed Sky News Australia deputy director of digital news "John Bergin":http://twitter.com/theburgerman). "Our strategy doesn't think of the viewer 'out there' spatially and conceptually. One of the most interesting things about Twitter is that there is no strictly defined audience. Every participant has the same tools to articulate his or her point, to frame an issue, to set an agenda. The space between news producer and news consumer has collapsed. We try to use Twitter as a means of inviting them into the newsroom, asking them what they think, what questions they would like us to ask our guests, and so forth."

Subverting PR and Getting Jobs

Some journalists also reported using Twitter as a means of subverting the increasingly dominant modern PR machine. They said it allowed them to quickly go beyond press releases and official sources, like lobby groups and politicians, by interacting with followers who provided alternative perspectives, useful background and sometimes crucial facts in a story.



Finally, the journalists I interviewed mentioned the role of Twitter as a sort of media job agency. The Sydney Star Observer's Harley Dennett highlighted the value of networking with senior journalists and editors at major Australian publications on Twitter.

"I comment on news of the day hoping potential future employers will notice how witty and informed I am," he said.

This strategy worked for one U.S. college graduate. After initially failing to make an impression via email, Ashley Reynolds direct-messaged (DMing as it's known involves sending a private message to one of your followers through Twitter) the News Director at WYMT TV in Hazard, Kentucky. It worked. He replied via Twitter, set up an interview and she's about to start work as a reporter on his news team.

"As far as I know, I'm the only one who contacted him through Twitter, so I really stood out," she said. "With direct message you have to sell yourself in 140 characters. So in order to sell myself I had to be short, sharp, and simple."

Breaking news in Twitter

In addition to using Twitter to monitor breaking news -- like a mini wire service with public participation -- and for the dissemination of breaking news, the ABC has also assigned reporters to live-tweet events, such as the Queensland state election this March. And there are plans to expand Twitter-based special events coverage.

Some of the reporters I interviewed pointed to the value of Twittersearch -- a function which allows users to search on specific terms or phrases which are often grouped by relevant hashtags -- to easily monitor community reporting of major breaking news. They also pointed to recent moves by public officials to release news via Twitter ahead of issuing press releases or staging media conferences. This means Twitter is being used not only as a place to cover and monitor breaking news, but also a place for sources to break news.

But the public is less likely to trust news broken on Twitter than that which is delivered via traditional news outlets, according to Harley Dennett, who says audiences still attach credibility to detail, as he discovered when he recently broke a story on Twitter about the closure of the Federal Magistrate's Court in Sydney.

"Sometimes people don't believe me when I reveal something on Twitter before the full story, with supporting quotes and documentation, comes out in print or online," he said. "It's hard to prove something in 140 characters when there's nothing to link."

Journalists would be wise to exercise similar caution, as two stories from Sydney this past fortnight demonstrate. In the first instance, a journalist writing for the online publication Crikey attacked Sydney Morning Herald technology reporter, Asher Moses (who did not respond to a request for an interview) for inappropriate tweeting. Crikey later apologised when it was revealed that some of the offending tweets actually came from a fake Twitter account

In the second incident, it was revealed that a marketing company had been tweeting under the guise of the NSW Police Service about policies and crime in a social media experiment inspired by Barack Obama's use of Twitter in his 2008 U.S. presidential campaign. The @nswpolice Twitter account had attracted 2,000 followers and forced a disgruntled police media unit to tweet under another handle before Twitter shut down the imposter site.

In the next instalment of this two part series on journalists' engagement with Twitter, I'll look at the implications of the clash between the personal and the public in the Twittersphere along with the regulation of reporters' tweeting by their employers and the ways in which Twitter is altering traditional practice. I'll also provide a list of tips for journalists starting out on Twitter, crowdsourced from those already active in the space.

View this post as it originally appeared on Mediashift and leave comments here    [read more]

This is the third part of a continuing J-Scribe series on my problematic pregnancy. See Reborn Part 1 & Reborn Part 2

It was an agonisingly long week between the onset of the threatened miscarriage and the appointment with the obstetrician which would deliver the news about our baby’s ability to endure. But it was news worth waiting for.

-----Original Message-----
From: Julie.Posetti
Sent: Monday, 23 February 2009 5:24 PM
To: Julie Posetti
Subject: Good news!

Dear family & friends,

Newsflash: our baby has survived the 'threatened miscarriage'! :o))

S/he was kicking and squirming on the ultrasound today and the heartbeat
was strong. Sometimes miracles do happen :o)

I'm feeling a little better today, too, after a truly awful week with
several bleeding episodes and extreme fatigue pinning me to the couch
(when my mother wasn't! :o)

The obstetrician says this is the best outcome we could have hoped for.
Now it's about prayers, entreaties & crossed fingers, legs etc in the
hope that the threatened miscarriage stays at bay & the baby continues to
thrive for the next few weeks.

If the baby behaves itself, I have an appointment in a month at the Foetal Medicine Unit (FMU) at the Canberra Hospital and they will do another diagnostic scan with a view to getting a more predictive reading on the baby's health

They may be able to detect issues with the placenta that point, too,
but they won't manifest (beyond posing a continuing miscarriage threat)
until the 6-7 month mark in the form of retarded growth, likely
precipitating a premature birth. Yep, this will continue to be a
high-risk pregnancy...but as long as it does continue and a healthy baby
is ultimately delivered it will be a risk worth enduring.

So, now I just have to continue to follow doctor's orders: rest, recover
& avoid stress for the next fortnight to keep the baby hanging in there.

To that end: The Sound of Music will be screening on our TV tonight
after the Oscars frock fest :)

Thanks for all the love and support you've sent our way over the past
week. It's been touching and valuable to us. Please keep it coming
during the long journey ahead!

Love,

Julie & Tim

In the weeks that followed, I found the couch-sentence frustrating but I was rendered so exhausted by the threatened miscarriage symptoms I could do little more than complain quietly. And the stress was palpable.

Everytime I stood up or pottered about the house the bleeding would recommence. And that was so frightening...I was afraid to use the toilet...terrified of miscarrying at home alone. My mother came to stay to help ease the burden and satisfy my cravings for comforting dollops of carbohydrates...all I wanted was pasta, polenta and potato...and a lot of sleep.

Annoyingly, people kept telling me to “just chill, downtime is a luxury”. As I wrote to a friend, “I’m trying to view the enforced ‘relaxation’ as a ‘luxury’ but that’s really a bit delusional…nothing relaxing or luxurious about a threatened miscarriage which, apart from being very frightening, leaves you too physically & emotionally exhausted to do anything deep or productive with the downtime (I’ve even tried unsuccessfully to blog) but not sick enough to avoid being frustrated by being pinned down. And, every time I start feeling optimistic & think I’ve turned a corner I start bleeding again, as I did this morning, so…”

But as each day passed and the baby clung to life, hope grew and the stress surrounding my pregnancy slowly began to ease. On the bright side, the threatened miscarriage was a significant distraction from the lingering threat of chromosomal abnormality.

I found another distraction in my DVD collection. Much to my partner’s amusement and barely-masked frustration, I managed to remain couch-bound for seven whole series of the US comedy/drama “Gilmore Girls”…160 episodes watched back-to-back.



The time dragged as quickly as it could to the next ultrasound appointment the following week.

-----Original Message-----
From: Julie.Posetti [mailto:Julie.Posetti@canberra.edu.au]
Sent: 10 March 2009 03:05 PM
To: Julie.Posetti; tim@enigmacreativemedia.com.au
Subject: Update from the Couch

Dear family and friends,

Good news from the couch.

The baby is still doing well - s/he was seen kicking, 'talking on the
phone', waving and rubbing eyes on ultrasound today - and the mother finally
appears to be on the improve!

After another scare, which prolonged the threatened miscarriage diagnosis,
my couch-sentence was extended last week by a fortnight and, despite my
dislike of idleness and isolation, it seems to have helped. I'm still
utterly exhausted and not good for any sort of mental engagement cleverer
than a 'knock-knock' joke, but at least I've managed to re-activate my sense
of humour! :o)

At the end of next week, I have a very detailed scan and possibly other
diagnostic tests with the Prof of Fetal Medicine here in an effort to
determine the baby's health as there are significant concerns about
chromosomal abnormalities and the state of the placenta. The next hurdle.

Thanks to all those of you who've offered much appreciated care and support
over the past few weeks. It's been really valued. Please keep it coming!

Much love,

Julie, Tim and the precious cargo.

By the end of March I found reassurance outside the doctor’s rooms. “I started feeling her move inside me - the most mind-blowing sensation!” I wrote to a friend. But there was the lingering anxiety surrounding the high risk of birth defects which would be tested at the FMU the following week. And the sudden, inexplicable death of our horse, Dancer two days after the photo below was taken to celebrate the baby's survival, bringing grief back to our doorstep.



But there was happiness on the horizon.

-----Original Message-----
From: Julie.Posetti
Sent: Thu 02/04/2009 11:07 PM
To: Julie.Posetti
Subject: Baby, baby!


Dear family & friends,

Happy, happy news! After surviving a threatened miscarriage, our baby has defied predictions of serious genetic disorders and was today declared by the medicos to be developing “perfectly”!

Feisty and resilient (s/he gets that from her Mum :o), s/he bounced around on ultrasound @ the Fetal Medicine Unit (FMU) in Canberra today, showing off his/her apparently well-functioning brain, heart, kidneys etc and revealing a healthy growth spurt since his/her last cinematic performance a fortnight ago. Today's 4D scan was designed to detect abnormalities, indicated by earlier tests, which should be clearly apparent @ this stage of the baby's development.

But this baby appears to be thriving! S/he has a head which is way above average in size (to accommodate all those brains, which s/he inherited from his/her mother, who is writing this missive in case you hadn’t realised :o) but his/her little legs are a tad shorter than average (surprise!).

19 weeks on Monday and halfway home, s/he still has a long way to go, and his/her growth will continue to be monitored very closely with regular scans @ the FMU and weekly visits to see his/her fabulous obstetrician. This is because blood tests still indicate a likely problem with the placenta, which is expected to retard his/her growth later in the pregnancy and poses a risk for premature birth.

I’m (Julie) gradually feeling stronger (not to mention excited & relieved by the bambina/o’s progress!) after my frustrating but edifying couch sojourn. But it will be a while before ‘Superwoman’ is back in action!

Meantime, please keep those prayers etc coming, cross those fingers (or hold/squeeze those thumbs as the South Africans & Germans among you are wont to do!) and maintain those good vibrations! We really appreciate your love, care and cheer-leading – it’s helped us get this far!

Lots of love,

Julie, Tim and the Precious Cargo.

PS Yes, we know the sex, but no, we're not telling yet - although the androgynous identification is getting boring, so the cat is likely to leave the bag soon!



While question marks lingered around our baby’s future, by mid-April hope began to seed and I began to embrace the pregnancy more confidently. I wrote to a friend “…the bambina is going wild with the womb-dancing which is very comforting - although I'm sure that sensation will become more painful with time! Still having to moderate my activity & learning (again!) to pay attention to this battered old body's warning signals to slow down...not an easy achievement for moi, but easier to manage with another life dependent upon my behaviour to an extent!”

And there were moments of joy and even hilarity as I continued to improve and started venturing out into public more regularly. I reported to a friend at the time via email: “…despite a high stress morning yesterday, I was Zenned out enough by early afternoon to leave my laptop in a public loo (since retrieved thank goodness!) and prance around a busy city shopping centre, smiling at those who were staring at me (cos I’m such a 'hawt' preggers chick, I thought :o), without realising my skirt was tucked into my stockings!! Oblivious was I, till a woman rushed up to me in hushed tones to alert me. But even this major fashion faux pas failed to faze me and I just laughed & made a quip about providing the shoppers with another kind of stimulus package. See, veeeery chilled :o)”

The idea that we may actually soon have to bring a tiny human-being into our chaotic lives had finally dawned. And then the nesting began in earnest.

I put friends & family to good use in farmhouse working bees: “*Whip, whip!* So loving being the foreperson…this‘complicated’ preggers status definitely has its upsides…Have also resurrected the bassinet I slumbered in as a bambina but the Numero Uno Feline has decided to take up residence within (picture mother-in-law’s panicked expression here :o)”



In an episode worthy of “Changing Rooms” we shunted the study to the back of the house to make room for the baby and began culling 20 years worth of accumulated crap. Quite why I’d hung onto a fluorescent pink “Wham” t-shirt from 1983 I don’t know, but I was now ready to consign it to the bin. However, I quickly realised that for every item I disposed of there was a piece of baby-accoutrement waiting to take its place.

I simply couldn’t resist foraging for cute baby gear that looked barely big enough to
dress a doll in. Socks for newborns which, when rolled up, are the size of a cotton ball, are up there with the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. But that could be hormones talking.

And those hormones continue to talk in more ways than one. Ongoing morning sickness means I still greet every day at the sink. Small price to pay for a healthy baby I keep telling myself as involuntary tears run down my cheeks.

I joke about becoming ‘larger than life’ but how could I resent the impact this baby is having on my body?

Ahead of the next FMU growth scan I wrote to a friend last week: “The bambina is now very active. If you were to put your hand on my belly right now, you could feel her kicking and dancing. Experiencing that sensation internally is simply extraordinary. Like tiny punches, electrical impulses, breath-taking jabs of love. Like life summoning you.” I’m convinced that if men were able to experience this they would have figured out how to do pregnancy ahead of harvesting stem cells and mapping genomes.

-----Original Message-----
From: Julie.Posetti
Sent: Fri 15/05/2009 7:17 PM
To: Julie Posetti
Subject: News from the Baby-zone

Dear family & friends,

Our little girl (yes, she’s a gal, in case you missed the newsflash) is continuing to impress her parents and the medicos by defying negative predictions and developing “perfectly” inside her mummy’s womb.

The docs say she is 'bang-on' normal growth targets for her age (25 weeks on Monday) and they’ve indicated that while there are no guarantees, they would be "very, very surprised" if she was born with either of the deadly genetic defects she was threatened with.

They’ll continue to closely monitor her growth in the knowledge that there may be other issues which could affect her development in the coming weeks and precipitate a premature birth. But she seems pretty determined to enter the world - despite the meltdown of the human race. And we feel increasingly confident she’ll make it.

She put on a cheeky performance on the ultrasound @ the Foetal Medicine Unit on Thursday, displaying her bottom with the confidence of a burlesque dancer. But she was very shy about revealing her face, preferring instead to cover her smile with the feet she was fascinated by.

Her mummy is ‘blooming’ at speed, reminiscent of Harry Potter’s Aunt Marge when she floated above Little Whinging, propelled by hyper-inflation. But, apart from the usual problems & continuing morning sickness, the pregnancy is progressing well. Nevertheless, mindful of the ongoing risks and the difficult path to this point, the docs have restricted her to working from home for the duration of the semester. She’s enjoying the mental stimulation and nesting like a … (pick an industrious, sentimental bird)

Thanks again for your continuing prayers, finger-crossing, thumb-holding, love and concern. Please keep it coming as the countdown continues!

Much love,

Julie, Tim and The Bambina



As I write this my little girl is kicking me in the belly and signalling her hunger to me…I imagine her like a tiny belly dancer, quaffing Turkish Delight and clapping her hands with delight every time she hears the dog bark.

She turns 26 weeks on Monday. Her next scan at the Canberra FMU is at 30 weeks.

The Bambina is due the week of the first anniversary of my grandmother’s death. Grandma never gave up praying I’d have a living, healthy baby and I sometimes feel like she’s urging this little girl inside me to the finish line. That’s the sort of tenacity Grandma would have showed in the womb. Her granddaughter inherited that fighting spirit and it seems her great-granddaughter has too.    [read more]

This is a continuation of a series of posts on my problematic pregnancy against a backdrop of recurrent miscarriage. Please share the journey with me. (Read Reborn Part 1 first)

When the Fetal Medicine Unit doctor called us in to his rooms, looking apprehensive and clutching test results in his hand, we knew something wasn’t right.

The results were from sophisticated blood tests which form the second component of the Nuchal Translucency Screening Tests. They’re correlated with the ultrasound results and background risks, such as age and obstetric history, to produce more accurate readings for significant birth defects.

Firstly, he pointed to the very low risk recorded for Down’s Syndrome (Trisomy 21) considering my age (1:1341), but it was clear that wasn’t the end of the story.


Running his finger down the adjacent column of results, he lowered his voice, saying “But you have a very significant risk - 1:16 - of carrying a baby with Trisomy 18 and also worrying is the 1:74 risk of Trisomy 13”. Neither my partner nor I knew what either of these lesser known syndromes entailed but it was obvious from the look on the doctor’s face that both were more grave than Down’s. Apparently I had a low reading of a 'maternal serum marker' labelled PAPP-A…whatever that meant. I felt like somebody had punched me in the stomach. Like I’d free-fallen from a great height.

He began talking about options. My concentration faded in and out. I could opt to have an amniocentesis there and then or I could wait a week and return for the test. Or, I could choose to do nothing and monitor the baby’s growth and development until 20 weeks. But after that point, termination wasn’t an option. Perhaps, he said, there might not be a problem with the baby at all – the tests results could be indicative of the underlying issues connected to my history of miscarriage which may have been affecting the development of the placenta. But this would place me at risk of late term miscarriage, premature birth & low birth weight.

I decided against having an amniocentesis on the spot without too much hesitation. There is a significant risk of miscarriage associated with this test, which involves extracting amniotic fluid from the sac for definitive genetic testing. The purpose of the test is to give the mother the necessary information to make a decision about an abortion where birth defects are suspected. And as I wrote to a friend later that night, “Today I chose to wait and live in hope. Couldn't bring myself to put the baby at risk. And I really don't know if I could choose to abort a baby I am now so bonded to at any rate – especially considering my history of miscarriage.”

The Survival Plan

So we made a plan with the FMU specialist to have another high-level diagnostic scan at 18 weeks. The hope was that the scan would discount the bad blood tests by showing a baby continuing to thrive. A still active baby viewed at 18 weeks with an examination of vital organs, facial features, skeletal structure, on target growth etc, indicating 'normal' development, would provide reasonable confidence that the baby had defied the risks with regular scans thereafter to track ongoing development. But if the scan results were poor, they'd recommend I have an amniocentesis. And if those results confirmed one of the suspected syndromes, I'd then have to make a decision about a late abortion.



When I got home I felt like I was in a bad dream but rather than curl up on the couch I began voraciously researching Trisomy 18 and 13 – knowledge is power to a journalist and research is a coping mechanism for me.

According to Dr Google, both of these chromosomal abnormalities manifest horrendously…much worse than Downs'. Characteristics include severe mental retardation and very serious defects involving the heart, kidneys and other organs along with additional physical symptoms. But worse, most babies with these conditions don't survive to term or are stillborn. And of those who survive birth, 50% and 80 % respectively die within 7-42 days, although a handful have lived up to the age of 10 with significant medical intervention.

Before I went to bed, I wrote to a friend “As I'm sure you can imagine, this is a pretty awful experience…I was so looking forward to being unreservedly, publicly joyful about this pregnancy. And now I have an agonising 6-week wait before I know more. And a building sense of premature grief as a large question-mark clouds the baby's future. Why, for once, couldn't things just be 'easy'? I realise that sounds self-centred and plenty of others are worse off…but don't I deserve a break from the universe…some genuine, unadulterated pleasure?”

“I really am trying to focus on the positive. And, from the 'happy thoughts' annals, a 1:16 chance of having a baby with one of these conditions – a rate 20 times higher than other women my age who already face elevated risk - is still a 15:16 chance that it won't be affected. And I'm holding onto the anecdotal wisdom that a baby on-target in terms of growth at 12 weeks, who appears very active on ultrasound, is a good indicator of one who'll ultimately thrive and arrive healthy… How could I not live in hope that this little human being is meant to survive and make a stellar contribution to human kind whatever her capacities?”

I eventually drifted into sleep, worried about the decision that lay ahead regarding the amniocentesis and praying for a healthy baby.

But I woke up to a nightmare.

Threatened Miscarriage

Feeling feverish, crampy and wet, I touched my thighs and was alarmed to feel liquid. I sat bolt upright and threw the covers back to find sheets covered in blood. “No!!” I cried. “I’m bleeding!” My partner jolted awake and sat speechless on the bed while I angrily blinked back tears. “Not again!” I stuttered. It was 7am and we didn’t know what to do. There was no way I was going to a hospital emergency room after previous scarring experiences of mistreatment in the midst of miscarriage. Instead, I lay back down and, despite passing blood clots, I prayed the bleeding would stop. At 8.30am we got in the car and drove to the obstetrician’s, alerting the surgery before we arrived.

I sat in the waiting room surrounding by pregnant women with babies and small children in tow. It was a harrowing wait. I could no longer stem the tears but just hoped I could stop my quivering bottom lip from progressing to a state of full-blown, heaving sobbing. My obstetrician ushered me into her office next. She tried to prepare me for bad news on the ultrasound…I was oblivious – I just wanted to see my baby.

But I couldn’t look at the ultrasound screen until I heard her say, after a few moments’ hesitation, “She’s OK. There’s her heartbeat”. The baby was lethargic but her heartbeat was strong. We still didn’t know the baby’s gender but the obstetrician had concluded she was a girl “Girls are tougher, they’re survivors", she said.

While seeing my living baby was extraordinarily reassuring, I was now officially in the grip of another 'threatened miscarriage'. The obstetrician surmised that the cause of the bleeding could either be a very ill baby in the process of miscarrying or a poorly formed/functioning placenta which could also trigger miscarriage but may be 'survivable' if the bleeding stopped.

I narrowly escaped hospital admission on the condition I agree to three weeks' bed rest at home and to "avoid stress at all costs". But, if the situation deteriorated further, I was warned I’d inevitably wind up in hospital. Unfortunately there was nothing else I or the medicos could do at that point but 'wait & see'. An incredibly frustrating treatment plan. The hope was that the bleeding would abate and the baby would recover…but the chances were not brilliant. Nevertheless, I continued to hope – in the context of reality.

Admitting I Needed Support

As I wrote to a friend that night, my biggest underlying fear was grief: “I don't know if I can withstand more loss in the form of another miscarriage. Yes, I'm strong and resilient and I have survived much and thrived in the aftermath...but I'm only human. That said...deep down I seem to know I'll somehow find the strength to keep walking independently no matter what happens. But this is definitely one of those times where I have to concede I need help in the form of care & support from others.”

In the grip of this crisis, my partner withdrew emotionally and he wanted to keep the pregnancy quiet until the 18 week scan - assuming I didn’t miscarry the baby. These were very trying times. But I was already ‘showing’ and it would be beyond obvious that I was pregnant at 18 weeks. Besides, I really needed the outside support now that things had grown so difficult. So, I broadcast the news to an extended network of friends and family via email.



“Everyone keeps telling me how strong I am...strange...I feel weak, afraid & exposed. But I do seem to have relocated my funny bone, which is probably a good sign,” I wrote to a friend as I lay on my couch a few days later, so exhausted – emotionally and physically that I could do no more than watch Harry Potter DVDs.

On February 19th I wrote: “The bleeding has escalated again & it's just shattering :( Why isn't it stopping? Is the baby OK? It's awful to feel so out of control of your own body when another life is dependent upon it.”

We would have to wait until the following Monday – the next scheduled obstetrician’s visit - to discover whether or not the baby had survived the ordeal.    [read more]

The Bambina @ 12 weeks


She kicks me in the guts and I feel only love.

It’s been a long, painful journey to motherhood for me. At 38 and with a history of recurrent miscarriage I’d almost resigned myself to childlessness. But now I’m eagerly awaiting the delivery of my baby girl.

The Bambina, as I’ve called her since she was just the size of a peanut and her gender was indeterminate, is now 25 weeks old and will be a resident of my womb until August.

Last November, 15 months after my last miscarriage – a perfect little boy who died inexplicably at 11 weeks in utero – I went to see a fertility specialist to progress inquiries into the cause of my previous three miscarriages. I’d put it off as long as I could. I still wasn’t sure I could risk the pain of another pregnancy loss but the doctor was upfront: “It’s now or quite possibly never.” This was because of my partner’s low fertility due to cancer treatment and my ‘advanced maternal age’ in conjunction with my history of miscarriage. IVF would be required to get results quickly. First, though, I would undergo surgery in an effort to identify possible causes of miscarriage.

I left the specialist with my partner, feeling like I no longer had options – to choose to do nothing now would probably deny me a choice down the track. So, we agreed uneasily to ‘throw it up to God’.

Beating IVF

In mid-December I underwent investigative surgery and, amidst extreme work-related stress, I began to prepare mentally for commencement of IVF in January. Part of that ‘preparation’ involved immersion in an alcoholic haze over Christmas. But the day after Boxing Day I awoke feeling queezy…breasts tender…period late. I joined the dots and the ‘piddle-stick’ confirmed the result: these symptoms weren’t just the product of stress and exhaustion, I was pregnant! Fear and excitement merged and stole my breath. I summoned my partner and we sat staring at that stick in disbelief. Then we laughed, acknowledging our earlier decision to ‘throw it up to God’.

My first instinct was to consult the medicos…I needed to know what the surgery had uncovered. I was 5 weeks pregnant and I lost my first baby at 6 weeks, the second at 8 weeks and the third at 11 weeks. But this was the period between Christmas and New Year and my fertility specialist, my obstetrician and my GP were all on holidays. Limbo.

Not content to sit back and wait, though, my partner tracked down a nurse at the fertility centre where we were tentatively enrolled and she bridged the gap. She contacted the holidaying specialist who confirmed that the surgery and associated tests had uncovered possible causes of my previous miscarriages. I had a high level of ‘Natural Killer’ cells in my uterus along with the presence of cardiolipin antibodies and phospholipid antibodies. Both of these factors have been linked in research to multiple miscarriages during the first trimester. It’s believed they inhibit the implantation and growth of the embryo and may cause an immune-system triggered rejection of the baby. It was a terrible thought to confront: my own body may have effectively killed my babies...

I was then was sent for blood tests which indicated hormone levels consistent with a normally progressing early pregnancy and I booked in for an ultrasound to establish the viability of the pregnancy. I felt physically ill in the lead-up to that ultrasound appointment – I was desperate to see my baby’s beating heart on that screen. These scans had ended in heartache in previous pregnancies on all but one occasion. A heartbeat was detected at 6 weeks during a threatened miscarriage with my last pregnancy, but at 12 weeks a follow-up ultrasound revealed my baby had died in the interim.

Scanning For Life

So, as I lay on the clinic bed this time around, with a stomach covered in ultrasound gel, I stared at the monitor, holding my breath. The radiographer was too quiet for my liking and my partner & I shared pained expressions as he squeezed my hand. But after what seemed like an interminable period, she said “Can you see that flashing light? That’s your baby’s heartbeat”. She brought up a graphic representation of the heartbeat and told us it was a very healthy 180 beats per minute. I wanted to cry with relief but apprehension about the ongoing risk of miscarriage, and having previously miscarried after seeing such a heartbeat despite a 95% chance the baby would progress to term, self-preservation instincts kicked in and I suppressed the excitement…I needed to be emotionally cautious. This proved a wise move. The radiologist who analysed the scans reported that the heart-rate was actually 118, not 180 and this was marginally below what’s considered ‘normal’. Nevertheless, he declared the pregnancy viable at six weeks.

I was then prescribed daily injections of a drug called Clexane (a blood thinner and immune system suppressor) to address the underlying problems identified in the IVF work-up, while I waited nervously to see a specialist at the conclusion of the holiday hiatus.

Face Down on the Bathroom Floor

But a few days after I began this treatment, feeling very ill, I hovered over a glass bowl on the edge of my bath. Moments later I was passed out, face down on the tiled bathroom floor…lying naked in a pile of shattered glass. As my panicked partner tried to rouse me, I felt myself fitting as I came to – tongue clenched between teeth and my leg kicking involuntarily. This was a very scary experience but all I could think was “Is the baby OK?” As my partner patched up the cuts that covered the left side of my body, I feared the worst.

I was instructed by the IVF nurse to go straight to Emergency at Canberra Hospital if I fainted or fitted again and to see my GP ASAP. Thankfully, my bathroom performance had no encore but I had to wait three more days before my GP’s surgery reopened. When I finally saw her, she did some routine tests and deduced that the episode was probably a virus or the product of a blood pressure spike. The baby would not have been affected.

I gradually began telling my closest relatives and friends about the pregnancy during this period, having decided I would need the support if anything did go wrong and wanting to celebrate the news quietly with them – it was important to validate the life of our baby in the hearts and minds of the people I love most. Also, as I wrote to a trusted friend at the time “Geez, I'm a journalist and I have a human being growing inside me - hard to embargo that kind of yarn!” There was an appropriate mixture of joy and apprehension from those I shared the news with and it was comforting to know they were variously thinking of us, praying for us and begging the universe to intervene on our behalf.

Specialist Intervention

In mid-January, I finally got in to see my IVF specialist who confirmed previous test results and explained that I’d be on the daily injections until I was 14-20 weeks pregnant. Injected into my stomach, these needles were not the highlight of my day but I was grateful for any kind of medical intervention that might lead to a sustainable pregnancy. However, she gaped when I told her that I was pregnant at the time of the exploratory surgery. “No, you couldn’t have been!” she said, pushing her chair back from the desk. “You do the maths", I thought. “That’s the stuff of my worst nightmares”, she said “...operating on someone who is pregnant and possibly accidentally aborting the baby”.

Poor woman looked like she may fall off her chair. So, I said “Not to worry, ‘she’ has so far survived a surgeon’s invasion and a scary fitting episode after being conceived amidst extreme stress, with the assistance of that excellent relaxant called champagne. It’s OK”. And, as I wrote to a friend at the time, “...there's something encouragingly cheeky and determined (s/he clearly gets that from moi :) about a baby who pre-empts IVF...and survives a surgeon’s knife that bodes well for this pregnancy. So, I am taking a leaf out of Obama's book and having the audacity to hope.”

By the end of the month I’d seen my obstetrician who, while very excited for me after helping me through my last miscarriage, was keen to monitor the pregnancy very closely due to its high-risk nature. So, I saw her weekly from thereon in and eagerly but nervously looked forward to greeting my baby on the ultrasound screen at each visit. Although a consequence of a problematic pregnancy, this was a rare privilege. Seeing her heart beat and watching the incredible pace of her growth week-to-week cemented the bonding I’d subtly resisted out of fear. I fell in love with my baby during this period, conscious that if she was lost to me, devastation would be eclipsed.

I was referred to the specialist Foetal Medicine Unit (FMU) at Canberra hospital for assessment and a diagnostic scan at 12 weeks and we decided to go ‘public’ with the news after that appointment, based on the conventional wisdom that miscarriage risk declines significantly after that point. Gradually, I began to relax into the pregnancy and hope started to supplant fear.

Perfect Baby

So, in mid-February, in the grip of conflated excitement and anxiety, we visited the FMU for the long-awaited 12 week scan. The friendly but professional medico appreciated our anxiety and immediately reassured us that our baby was alive and kicking – quite literally! It was extraordinary to watch her body being mapped on 4D ultrasound. She no longer resembled a peanut or a jelly-bean – she now looked like a miniature human-being, albeit an oddly proportioned one. Arms, legs, fingers and toes, distinctive facial features and already in possession of some fairly impressive dance moves. The ultrasound operator acknowledged all of these observations as excellent signs, consistent with normal development, and confirmed this with a crucial measurement – the depth of the Nuchal Fold, a pocket of fluid located at the back of a foetus’ neck which indicates the likelihood of Down’s Syndrome. My age put me at significant risk of having a Down's baby but the radiographer declared: “that measurement is perfect”. The baby’s major organs also appeared to be developing “perfectly”, she said. I couldn’t wipe the wide smile off my face and I allowed my heart to leap unfettered for the first time during the pregnancy.

We left the ultrasound room to await our appointment with the FMU specialist, feeling confident and relieved. But bad news was lurking just around the corner    [read more]