In what can only be described as Sod’s law, my weekly trip to the antenatal day unit on Christmas Eve was eventful.
The consultant said my top was the best she had seen all week so I was quite pleased about that.
My blood pressure was the best it’s been all pregnancy and my blood sugars were low. Some were very low which I thought was a good thing.
Turns out it is not.
They expect diabetic mothers to have erraticly high readings in late pregnancy and, with a couple of hypos, there is the risk that the placenta is not working properly.
So they sent for a scan machine so they could do a dopler test and check the blood flow to the placenta. Thankfully it was ok but I was booked in for an extra growth scan letter this week, just to make doubly sure.
The bad news? Baby had turned and is breech. If it hasn’t turned in two weeks, I will be offered a manual turn. Other wise it’s a Caesarian section, something I really, really didn’t want.
I just knew it.
One of our horse ladies is a midwife and I told her months ago the baby would be breech. I have been known to foresee things before. I just knew.
I understand that some people have to have a section and I also know that if something were to go wrong in labour, I would be glad that medical intervention could step in.
In an ideal world though? My labour would be like it was with Boo. Induced and done in ten hours after my waters broke. Ok, well I’d take five hours seeing is at is my second labour.
There’s a few weeks to go so I am going to try and not think about it and hope the baby turns back.
It’s ironic, I was finding it hard to walk last week because the head was so low. Now I feel like it’s resting it’s head on a lung. The joys.
The thing is, while the operation itself scares the life out of me, and the fact that I would have to look after an energetic three year old as well as a baby and a horrible scar, these reasons are not what is bothering me the most.
The worst thing is the feeling of being stranded. We don’t live in a normal house. Fair enough, we are not totally rural but it’s at least a half hour walk without a pram and a young child in tow to the nearest shop.
I wouldn’t mind staying in with the new baby for a fortnight, but six weeks?
Hubster doesn’t get paternity leave. How would I get Boo to nursery?
I hear manual turning of babies in the womb is painful but surely less so than being stranded for six weeks?
Time will tell but please keep you ur fingers crossed.