December 26, 2010

Xmas Eve at the hospital

Friday, I had a similar panic to what I had on Monday. I hadn't felt much movement from Cookie in a couple of days. This time I really did panic. I remembered that a cold drink had helped last time, so I skulled a ice-cold bottle of water... and nothing. "Oh shit." So off we went to the hospital. On the way there, I concentrated so hard on my little bump - and still nothing. I thought for a moment that I could feel a somersault, but when I looked down I realised it was just my seat belt.

After spending about 15 minutes trying to find parking (gawd I hate hospital parking!) we got into the hospital, checked into Emergency, and into a little check-up room straight away. Scott and I did what we always do when we're scared about our babies - no talking, no eye contact. Eye contact means admitting we're scared, admitting there might actually be something wrong. It's just an unspoken thing we do.

I lay on the bed thingie as directed, pulled my skirt down to show off my horrific stretch marks beautiful belly, and the doctor (midwife?) put the yucky gel for the doppler on. Then the moment of truth... That scratchy sort of noise the doppler makes as it moves around... Still no heartbeat. Scratch, scratch... "Is that my heartbeat?" I thought as I tried to slow it down. Nope. I could feel my heartbeat now, very distinctly different to the sound of my baby's faster one. "Oh thank goodness."

Eye contact was finally made with Scott. We both tried pretending we hadn't been scared, as the doctor/midwife told us she had to go get some paperwork so she could send us up to Pregnancy Day Care. She left the room and we cracked up. "What the hell is Pregnancy Day Care?" we asked each other. No mention of the fear we'd just been feeling. No need, there was nothing to be scared of.

Pregnancy Day Care turned out to be where they did a CTG to hear Cookie's heartbeat. Of course, me growing a baby who likes to scare their mother, it took a little while to get a proper trace on the heart. I ended up having to hold it myself, pressed at an angle into my fat tummy. The next twenty minutes or so were bliss. The constant thump-thump-thump filled the room as I lay there trying to ignore how sore my tummy was getting from having the monitor thingo pressed in. There were a few times when it suddenly went really fast, but it slowed to normal within seconds. The midwife came in and said she'd let me go soon. Scott ended up having to leave around then, because he had to get to work, but that was alright, we knew all was fine with our baby by then.

Day Care (giggle...) sent me back down to Emergency to give them a little slip of paper saying all was okay. I'd forgotten that when I was down there earlier, they got a high blood pressure reading so they wanted to check that again just in case. So I sat and waited again in a little room. Blood pressure was alright, did I mind giving them a urine sample? No worries, I'd been busting to wee for an hour at that point. Took the sample back to my little room - taking very special care not to place it anywhere near my drinking water - and waited again... A lovely doctor called Alex came in to talk to me as the midwife (the third one at this point, are you keeping up?) took my wee away for testing.

Alex had a feel of my tummy, noted that it was measuring right on dates, and stayed with me as the midwife came and told me there was lots of sugar in my wee. Yippee. I had to do a finger-prick test to check I didn't have that level of sugar in my blood. I hate finger-prick tests even more than usual needles, so both women were treated to what happens when I'm scared - excessive babbling. I swear I told them both my life story in the space of a minute. Actually, Midwife screwed up when she was pricking me. She thought she'd aligned the thingie with the fleshy part of my finger - but when she squeezed to get the blood out, it came from under my nail. She'd stabbed my nail bed. The weirdest part? I didn't realise she'd even pricked me. I didn't feel it! Anyway, that came back normal. I told them it might have been the Maccas breakfast I'd had - the first time in ages I've had McDonald's for breakfast, and it had to be the day I go to the hospital.

Alex asked me when my next ultrasound was booked for, and I told her I didn't know. I was supposed to be booked in for next week, but my usual doctor never gave me a referral. She went off to check if I was booked automatically, or whether I needed to book it myself. It turned out that it would be incredibly hard to get me in for next week, did I want to go up straight away? She didn't have to ask - of course I'd go up! She warned me that they still might not be able to get me in, since I didn't have an appointment, and I'd just be at the mercy of whoever was on shift. I still wanted to go, so off I went.

I ended up waiting for a few more hours. About three and a half hours. So I saw lots of people come and go. There was a gorgeous little boy, maybe around six months old, who kept looking at me and grinning before "talking" to his dad about something. He kept me giggling for a while (yeah, I giggle at babies. Sue me) before he had to leave. There was the weird teenage girl who I'm fairly certain took a photo of me on her iPhone. Creep.

Then there was the "bad news couple." They came out from their ultrasound silent as anything, and sat back down in the corner. I kinda had a feeling something was going on, and I was right. A few minutes after I became aware of them, she broke down in tears and started whimpering to her partner something I remember very well saying myself - "It's just not fair..." My eyes filled with tears instantly. Bad news has never been so obvious. I fought with myself for a while, wanting to go over to comfort her and tell her my story, but I couldn't. Her partner didn't seem the type that would be open to a stranger talking to him out of the blue. While she was in the toilet, he was on the phone to someone telling them what was going on. From what I could gather, their baby was alive, but had serious problems. That's all I could get with the aforementioned creepy teenage girl playing a very loud game on that damn iPhone. They left, and I was left worrying about what news they might have received.

Then, finally, it was my turn. Three hours of sitting down had left me a little creaky and sore, so I slowly followed the lady into the dark room. Lay down, got more yucky gel squirted on me. There was the head, oh, there's the heart... Ohmygodisthatapenis? Just as I started thinking I was looking at my new little son's legs and willy, I heard "Aw, baby has their arm over the cord there"... Oh. What I thought was a leg was an arm! Oops. So, no, we're still being surprised. Everything was normal, though obviously now Cookie's too big to make much out on the ultrasound if you don't know what you're looking at. They had problems once more getting a proper reading on the cord's blood flow. Want to know why?

Cookie had the hiccups! Although I couldn't make much out, I could see the little jerky movements, and it was just so cute. The woman actually ended up putting it in the official report (with the spelling as it is here) - "Very active baby. Had hik-ups." We also found that baby's head is just slightly smaller than Ianto's was when he was born. And it's going to get much bigger, apparently. That's the first time I've really thought about that. Ianto wasn't fully grown when he was born. This one's going to be bigger. Obvious, I know, but I'd never really considered that properly. Oops.

Gosh, if you've been through all this without a break, you're a hero. Go have a cuppa or something. I'll be back soon with the rest of how my Xmas went.




1 comment:

Thank you for reading!