My poor body has finally given up on this whole pregnancy thing. With less than 2 weeks until my due date, with an additional 14kg currently being supported on my frame (most of it on my front and, I have to admit now, my bum), and the Bump pretty much the size she will be when she comes out, my body has finally had enough. After responding to the blood pressure drugs for the past few weeks, it has finally shouted quite loudly "enough is enough" and shot up again. This led to a highly amusing (if at moments worrying) appointment with Dr D yesterday and one from which I am not sure the Boy has entirely recovered yet.
Although the drugs had given us a reprieve for the past few weeks, I have been waiting for the inevitability of my blood pressure going up again. I blame my mother, or rather the genetics I inherited from her. Whilst my sister got a breach birth in revenge for her being breach and causing my Mum problems (although this can't be proven to have a genetic link, I see it as such sweet revenge that I am sure Mum had something to do with it), I have got the blood pressure from her. The Boy, however, seemed to be under the illusion that the drugs would do their work and I would have a happy, healthy labour. So, it came as a bit of a shock that a) his wife now officially has pre eclampsia and that is a bit worrying and b) this means that things have to change from letting nature take its course.
In anticipation of this event I have read all about the dreaded PE and found that for all the dangers, it is unusual if it is spotted and managed that it causes major problems for me or baby and that in many respects it makes life easier. So it was with some glee that I sat in Dr D's room yesterday to hear I might have to be induced early (yippee, a well planned faster labour) and have an epidural immediately that I go into labour (speed and no pain, what a result!). All the Boy heard, however, was Dr D saying "if it's not changed by Friday we'll have you in and induce her early". He giggled nervously, looked a bit worried, and muttered the F word under his breath a few times.
Then it came to the scan (she is fine, I am still ticklish and Dr D still finds it amusing to tickle me). When Dr D realised that her head is now engaged, meaning she is nicely nutting my pelvis regularly when I walk, he got all excited - "Let me check the cervix, if its ready now then we might as well induce sooner than the weekend". At this point the Boy issued an even more nervous laugh. He had turned up at what should have been a routine appointment because he didn't have any meetings and thought he would pop along. I am pretty certain he did not sign up for finding out his daughter might appear a week earlier than expected, then watch a 70 year old doctor stick his fingers into his wife to find out whether he might be father to the first baby born in HK in 2008.
As it turns out I am not "ripe" (what a horrible way of describing it, like a mango or banana) so she is staying in to see what happens on Friday.
When we finally both came home the Boy poured himself a very large glass of wine, uttered the F word a few more times, and we sat down to a blood pressure reducing evening on the sofa. By the time we went to bed the Boy's blood pressure seemed to have reduced sufficiently for me not to worry too much about him over night.
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