YOIKES YOIKES YOIKES

WARNING … swearing alert in this post.

Happy calm of this morning has totally evaporated and been replaced with blind panic …

now this will probably sound weird to you but “I’m having a baby!!!!” and it really is real … just back from horrible afternoon in hospital waiting room surrounded by overweight red bull swilling mothers to be wearing shell suits and having seen a totally different doctor … yes I’m spun out … and been handed a pink piece of paper saying that I’m having a Cesarian on the afternoon of Thursday 19th January. Unless of course anything happens earlier when I’ll have an emergency Cesarian if it doesn’t try to climb out on its own.

Feel like swearing alot in manner of Hugh Grant at the start of Four Weddings, sorry sorry sorry but FUCK and fuckity fuck … 19th January sometime after midday The Spaniard will be here.

I guess from so long with being told it will never happen, I’ll never conceive, I’m too old, the IVF will never work, it’ll never ‘take’, the risks are too great, I’ll die, it’ll die, we’re all doomed, the pregnancy can’t possibly succeed and so on I never really thought they would get to this point. It has I suppose always felt like a weird dream from which I’d wake up shaking and confused … bit like the other night when I woke up in a cold sweat as I had just dreamt I had microwaved The Spaniard by accident.

Anyway – it seems all this is real and that in under 3 months I will have a small person totally dependent on me and a whopping great cut across my tummy. As long as nothing goes wrong in the meantime, see there, the voice of uncertainty is still there in my head …

I need to get baby clothes, plan, think about everything, find out how to change nappies, which way up to hold them, sort out how I’ll cope being unable to drive or do much for 6 weeks after being unzipped … and what about a breast-feeding bra, those pad things, and a pram, and a car seat and and and and and and …. aaaaaaaaaagggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh and double aaaaaaaaaagggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh as it still seems like tempting fate to get any of those things.

I NEED A DRINK … a bloody big vodka or something … but I can’t have one … tripple aaaaaaaaaagggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Right then … breathe in… breathe out … calm down …

I got to the hospital waited nearly 2 hours and then a doctor I’ve never seen before (very nice but about 12) came out and called me through … he seemed a bit clueless compared to wonderful Dr Patient and asked what kind of birth I wanted and so on .. I told him I’d been told (guided strongly) that having a Cesarian was my only option realistically and then he laughed and said “Yes it is but I had to understand you know that” and everything went kind of psychedelic from there … Dr Patient is away the week before when they’d previously talked about me having it so the afternoon of 19th was typed into the machine … with an hour long ‘pre-op’ appointment on 17th to be told all about the anaesthetic, how they cut, how it all works and so on.

I asked the nice but confused 12 year old (with a weird goatee beard like a thin line all down his chin) what happened if anything ‘started’ happening earlier and he started on waving his middle and index finger in the air saying. “the gynaecologists 2 fingers will tell you what you need”, “these are special two fingers they know what they are feeling for it will not hurt” “trust our two fingers”, which made me feel totally weird … at this point Dr Patient came in, asked if I was ok, I nodded mutely and she said something along the lines of “oh don’t worry you’ll be an easy one” and then left again.

I just sat there with my legs very firmly together reeling from the whole ‘two fingers’ thing and thinking that my head was exploding and maybe the mushrooms that I had for lunch were somehow hallucinogenic. Young Dr Goatee then headed off and came back with a consent form for me to read and do something with “at my leisure” and then listened to The Spaniard. It kicked him (yay for The Spaniard), as soon as he put the listening jobby on my tummy and then he said its heartbeat was around 166 beats per minute which is alot faster than the 140 bpm it has been for a while but I honestly think he didn’t really listened properly, more a token listen for my benefit .. unless The poor Spaniard was having palpitations due to the news of being ‘untimely ripped’ on 19th January… then he kindly said that it was a good healthy heartbeat and opened the door and left saying something about Lucozade and making appointments.

The girl on reception apologised that she was new and made the cesarean apt and the pre-op apt but didn’t seem to know how to make the next consultant appointment .. I asked her about Lucozade and she told me to go and see the blood people.

They said I have to go in during week 28 and drink Lucozade then wait for an hour and then have a blood test for diabetes .. another example of a big corporate interfering with child birth … first the Bounty packs and now the Lucozade test .. dear oh dear.

Anyway – after all that I left the hospital in a total daze.

I mean I know I’m pregnant and all that but somehow I didn’t believe, didn’t dare to believe that there was any kind of chance of an actual baby appearing at the end of all this … and now I have a date on a pink booklet all about the process.

Official information

YOIKES and again YOIKES

 

That’s all. I did say I was a crazy pregnant person didn’t I? This proves it …

Please all go and get very drunk for me because I can’t … it would help … thank you.

 

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