It’s 6.30am and I’ve been awake since 3am. I’ve been sleeping much better in the last month but my mind is busy tonight, and there’s no point in lying in bed with a mental to do list keeping me awake.
I was back to the hospital yesterday morning for my checkup. This time, when I arrived at Admissions, the lady gave me a new lilac folder, for the baby, and asked if my husband was with me. When I said no, she asked when he was arriving. This all made me a little nervous.
Despite the public holiday, things were manic upstairs on the antenatal ward and they had to open the day ward after all to ease the pressure.
All my tests were fine: three consecutive blood pressure readings were good (thanks to the meds, I assume – they are called Transdate, which makes me smile); bloods were as they should be; baby trace was perfect; and there was only a tinge of protein in my urine. This time, I had the added bonus of an internal exam, which showed that the baby’s head was down and I was a finger’s width effaced, which apparently is pretty okay for a first-time mother at this stage (to put it in context, the doctor said that they would be able to break the waters at two fingers’ width).
However, they still want to induce. (I wondered initially why they bothered with the tests at all, but I guess they were ruling out any problems that would have meant immediate action.) The doctor was lovely and explained that she had two reasons for inducing: my blood pressure will only get worse, never better, and this could happen quickly; and my age complicates things. In her opinion, we are just waiting for problems to arise, which makes no sense, especially as I’m full-term on Sunday. I mentioned the IVF and, unlike the other doctors, she said that wasn’t a factor.
So I check in at 8am on Wednesday and they will administer some drug at 10am that causes the cervix to ripen (I really hate that phrase). I’ve just read in the hospital handbook that sometimes they need to administer the drug a second time six hours later. I think she said they would break my waters the next day, so it sounds like a bit of a drawn-out, unpleasant process. And once I’m admitted, I can’t go home, so my dream of avoiding the antenatal ward is going up in smoke. Unless I go into labour myself, of course, which she said was a possibility. I’ve been eating pineapple religiously for the last few days and willing the baby to come of its own accord.
I’m not over the moon about being induced but I can see that my blood pressure is a problem. I mentioned before that one of the girls I met on the day ward last week was admitted for two weeks due to her pre-eclampsia. I saw her on the antenatal ward today and they’ve told her she may need kidney dialysis after she gives birth. Pre-eclampsia seems to come with a very varied set of conditions and I don’t want to go there.
I can’t believe that tonight is the last night I will spend without my new boy in the house. I’m looking at the co-sleeper attached to my bed now and trying to get my head around the fact that there will be a little person in it in a few days.
In the meantime, there’s admin to be done during my last day of freedom. I bought my sister a birth partner present yesterday on my return from the hospital, and walked to and from the shops on my poor swollen feet in the hope of getting things going. A few brisk walks are on the cards today. I had to cancel a dental checkup on Friday, so will see if they can fit me in. I’ll try to squeeze in a visit to the hairdressers. I’ve also cancelled my obligatory car roadworthiness test, set for Friday, as I suspect I’ll be otherwise engaged…
‘Tis getting real now.