Scary stories from a lovely place
Back in March I wrote about the imminent arrival of Silas x2. I shouldn’t have used the word ‘imminent’ then because I really want to use it now. This coming Sunday I will be 38 weeks pregnant and so ready to go any day really. In that post back in March, titled ‘Bearing down on a train smash’ I wrote about my fears for birth injuries, decisions regarding natural delivery and pain management and my general trepidation as I looked towards a painful, but necessary and good event. This looking towards the birth thing has always confused me. It’s scary, agonising, difficult and hurts, and yet we pregnant women look forward to it with excitement, relief and joy. It’s an odd mixture.
As you may know if you read my post about our arrival here in Australia, this last part of my pregnancy has been a little unusual. On our second morning here in my old home I awoke early to the familiar feeling of regular, strange pain, not yet horrible, but certainly uncomfortable – contractions. Being only 32 weeks pregnant at the time we acted quickly and went to the local hospital, about 30 minutes drive away. I then stayed in hospital for about 5 days before I was finally released with broken waters, a baby that had turned breech and then back again and the instructions to come back at least 3 times a week for various tests.
That’s what we’ve been doing for the last month now. Driving that 30 minutes to the hospital for scans, appointments and heart-rate listening. It’s all felt a little silly really. I’ve had conversations with midwives and doctors who doubt that my water did actually break. Others have assured me of the necessity of all their observation. All have commented on how wonderfully low my blood pressure is, how active and healthy the baby seems and how amazing it is that I haven’t yet gone into labour.
That’s all changing next week. Silas x2 will make his/her grand appearance on Wednesday. I’m being induced. It’s time. Perhaps naively, I was hoping to just continue on and deliver the baby when it was ready to come. But no. Intervention wins the day. At first I was annoyed and ready to fight with this faceless doctor on the phone. She said they wanted to do it on Monday but I asked for a couple of day’s grace. Now, I’m ready. I’m sick of being fat. My ribs hurt. I want to go for a run. I want to have a spa bath. I want to cuddle my two babies at once. I want to watch Silas headbutt his new brother or sister.
I’m super scared of the pain. I have heard inductions can mean much more painful labours. But it’s all horrible anyway, right? I’m still very anxious about birth injury but have been assured by my midwife in South Africa that it’s unlikely to be as bad a second time. I am concerned about using drugs and that I may need them for the pain. I hope the baby will be okay. Now that I know when it is going to happen it takes away all the mystery surrounding when the fated day would come. Bring it on.