Well, I made it to 18w. Three weeks post rupture, and still no sign of anything sinister happening. Still getting kicked, still peeing a thousand times a day, still spewing. And I made it through week three with only one visitor, two if you count Pete who arrived this morning, and is currently at the shops procuring lunch for me while Inigo and Mark are off having adventures.
Yes, I know, more boob propaganda. But hey, I have time on my hands…
One of the symptoms of the toll all this is taking on Inigo, is that he has started to get anxious about going to daycare on Fridays. A couple of weeks ago, I had to leave him in tears for the first time ever, as I had to leave to go to a medical appointment (I always make sure I drop him well before I have to be somewhere else, so I have ample time to get him settled in before I need to leave him). Previously, (once he got used to being there), I haven’t had to wait more than half an hour before he is ready for me to leave.
Since Mark has been dropping him off the last couple of weeks, Mark has had to go through the trauma of leaving him while he is distressed. This morning, he threw a whammy before he even got out of the car, but once he was coaxed inside, he immediately sat down, set up a tea party, and waved goodbye to daddy.
“See you later Daddy!”
I went to the hospital today, and saw another registrar. Fortunately, I also saw the first doctor I had seen there, who I really like. She is the senior fellow, and is specialising in high risk pregnancies. She (Roshini) has taken a special interest in my case, and apparently I will be able to see her at each weekly visit, rather than a different resident each week. This is great news – I will be able to have a single point of contact, and it’s someone I both trust and like, and who has a sense of humour!
So I am still healthy, still have normal blood pressure, normal pee, normal blood. Still pregnant (still spewing, though much lees), and still have two little heartbeats banging away. Oh, and I have lost 7kg since I booked in a couple of months ago.
If I owe you an email, you can expect it in the next couple of days, I am slowly catching up 🙂
As I enter my third week of bed rest, I am reduced to recording the adventures of other people. Mark took Inigo to the park yesterday, and sent me this picture.
And today they went to visit our friends Richard and Miriam, who welcomed baby Anastasia on Wednesday. Richard and Mark have put an extra car seat in the vintage Jaguar, and have taken Oscar and Inigo to the zoo.
I hope they have fun, and take lots of pictures for me to enjoy vicariously.
Apparently, I have a genetic mutation that makes my blood prone to clots. Factor V Leiden, for which I am heterozygous for (which is less scary than homozygous), could have been the cause of the issues I had with Inigo’s birth, but it probably wouldn’t have anything to do with what is happening now. If this pregnancy continues though, I will probably need to be on blood thinners at some point.
I found this out, because my gorgeous midwives at Hornsby hospital suggested that I get tested for it because of the state of Inigo’s placenta. I asked my OB to test for it, and then today he rang and asked me why he had decided to test for it. And then he told me I’m a mutant.
It explains a lot.
As for my hospital visit yesterday, it took nearly 5 hours to pee in a jar, visit the vampires (give blood), have my blood pressure taken 80/120, have a long conversation with the high risk OB, and then a visit with the Midwife that co-ordinates the high risk patients. She wanted to know if we wanted to see a social worker to talk about how horrible this experience is. Um, no, I don’t think so. Frankly, if we were all cheery and full of coping, I’d suggest a padded cell, but I can’t see the social worker being able to make a huge amount of difference. This is an awful situation, it is NORMAL to feel awful. We’re doing well considering.
I’ve been told that I will have to go to the hospital twice a week, every Monday and Thursday, where I will have to pee in a jar, visit the vampires, have my blood pressure taken, and then wait around until a doctor has time to see me. I will be spending a great deal of time at the hospital, and a great deal of money in the car park ($8 in coins needed each time!).
So I am loving my iPad right now, and looking forward to getting a sim card so I can have internets in the waiting room…
And this is why I love my husband – the care package he came home with on the weekend. A new top of the line iPad, the new Kylie album, the new Scissor Sisters album, and some plastic cheese (no, I wouldn’t normally eat this shit, it’s a pregnancy thing).
After spending a few hours at the hospital, talking to midwives and doctors about how to proceed, which drugs I could and could not be given because of my previous c/s, and how long we could wait before I went into labour naturally, I was given a blood test (to check for infection), and sent over to ultrasound to make sure there was no heartbeat.
Well, there was a heartbeat. Two, in fact. Both babies are alive and well, with healthy little heartbeats, and measuring big for gestational age. No amniotic fluid, but alive.
We have decided to proceed with the pregnancy, I will remain on bedrest, and switch my care to the high risk clinic at Westmead. If these babies are born alive, it is very likely they will come early, and they will need a neo-natal intensive care ward, so Westmead is the most obvious choice, despite the bus shelter atmosphere of the waiting room.
And if we make it to 20-ish weeks, I’ll be booked in as an in patient to continue my bed rest in less comfortable surroundings, but closer to a NICU.
So sorry for the drama, but you can imagine that Mark and I have been all over the place emotionally today.
Were on our way to Westmead hospital to find out what happens next. Hopefully I will go into labour soon, and then open the gin.
Thanks to Kate V for the link.