Well “Beak” has been here for almost two weeks now. I guess it’s time I “put pen to paper” so to speak and document her arrival beyond my original post announcing her birth.
|Photo Credit: jasleen_kaur via Compfight cc|
As I’ve mentioned in previous posts I have been on medication for my blood pressure since I was about 12 weeks pregnant. It remained relatively settled and I was told several times that the dose I was on was so low it was barely worth bothering. In the final weeks it started to sneak up a bit so my usual midwife arranged for more regular checks. On the Wednesday it was sitting at 150/100 and I was told to rest, Saturday it was more sensible again and all was fine, Monday it was back to 150/100 and the midwife who was visiting me felt things were somewhat more urgent and packed me off to the hospital! I thought she was being over dramatic when she wouldn’t let me drive myself there and she told me that years ago with bp that high and the protein level in my wee being what it was she would have been phoning me an ambulance. Of course I felt absolutely fine but had to go along with it all anyway.
I had to phone Dave at work – leaving a message with a colleague to “phone his wife but not to panic”, phone our childminder to arrange for her to collect the kids from school for me and then phone of my best friends to ask him to come and take me to the hospital. What a hoo-haa. Now you would of course expect that by the time I had sorted all of this and got myself to the hospital that my bp would have been through the roof but in fact when they hooked me up to all the monitors it was fine – pretty much normal in fact! I had my bp taken every 15 minutes for two hours and it was FINE. Baby’s heartbeat was fine, movements were fine. ALL FINE. Except that ever present protein urea . . . So what did they do? Kept me in over night!?
So I spent a sweaty night in a rubbery hospital bed with people moaning, groaning and tapping on their phones all through the night. My bp was checked twice more, my medication doubled and I was sent home again the following morning. All a bit pointless. I was however thrilled to be discharged as it meant I could go to my pre-op and get myself home to wash my hair, write some lists for my Mum and get a good night’s sleep (or as good as anyone can at 39 weeks pregnant!) in preparation for what was to come the next day . . .