It’s official, ladies and gentlemen. I am over halfway through my pregnancy. Today, I am 20 +3 weeks. My estimated due date still stands at 13 June 2015.
I use the term “estimated” loosely in this sentence, as I have had somewhat of a difficult pregnancy, and with my consultant basically telling me that although I could try for a natural birth, the odds of a successful one are only at 65%. Therefore, I have been told that they strongly recommend an elected c-section.
The nausea started at just 6 weeks. I suffered morning, noon and night. I practically felt that I was always in the bathroom… Even at work.
My employers had referred me to occupational health, due to other matters, I explained that I was suffering the sickness, and I was told by the consultant over the phone that I shouldn’t be in work. They recommended that I was to leave work immediately, and that it would be in my best interests not to return for the remainder of the pregnancy.
You see, I am a high risk pregnancy.
When I had Mr. Gning, I had gestational diabetes, but it was caught too late in the pregnancy to do anything about it. Because of this, I went in for a sweep; which was unsuccessful; then I went in to hospital to be induced. I would love to say that it didn’t work, but within and hour of the midwife applying the gel, my waters had burst, and I was in labour. 37 and a half hours later, I was constantly losing consciousness. I had been told that I needed an emergency section.
The gestational diabetes had given me a beautiful, “squish faced” baby boy, weighing in at a wonderful 10lb 8oz.
Now I have a whole list of problems which categorises me as high risk. The previous gestational diabetes is one of them – In the January, after my son was born, I had to go for a loop incision for CIN3 treatment, after abnormal results came back from my smear test. That is another factor. A third is my BMI (Body Mass Index). Let’s just say that I am a “bonnie lass”. Cuddly, and certainly not bony. Fourth is that I had to have an emergency section. Fifth is that I suffer mental health issues – depression and anxiety. It has been established that this was caused through the midwives, consultants and health visitors missing the signs of a late onset of post-natal depression. It hit me hard.
For the past couple of months, I have been suffering from “funny turns”, where my temperature would suddenly soar; I would instantly begin to sweat; dizziness would take over me; and my legs would wobble. The only way for me to bring myself back to reality would be for me to go outside in the cold (bear in mind that I live in England), and to practically strip off whilst downing a full bottle of something fizzy (primarily Lucozade).
After mentioning this to the midwife, she called the hospital to bring my GTT (glucose tolerance test) forward. So, I went to get my bloods done, 11 weeks earlier than in a normal pregnancy.
Last week I get a letter through my door, confirming that I do have gestational diabetes. I’ve been back to the clinic once already for a blood drop test, and I’m due to go to the clinic again tomorrow to get all of the items I need to keep a check on my blood sugar levels; and to be educated in what I can and can’t eat. Should be fun.
Anyway, I am 20 weeks pregnant.
A couple of weeks ago, we went for one of those 3d/4d scans. It was brilliant… The sonographer confirmed with me that we did want to find out the sex of the baby. Hubby and I are way too nosy, so obviously we said yes. Well, that and neither of us like surprises.
Within 30 seconds of lying on the couch, the lady confirmed that we are having a boy, and she immediately played the heartbeat to us.
If you look closely, you can see his eyes, nose, his smile… And his hand that started rubbing his eyes. He’s such a sleepy little man.
I love my bump. I love showing it off in snug (ish) tshirts and dresses; although because of the size of me anyway, I will never have the beautiful “beach ball”, rounded bump. As darling hubby (I use the term darling loosely there 😉 Ha ha) said to me last night, “you have a lumpy bump”. (NOT IMPRESSED DARLING HUBBY *grimace*). I don’t care… This bump is mine.
On Friday, I was convinced that I started to feel him kick. Saturday night came and I thought the same… Sunday night I was lying on the settee, and I watched as my belly moved, and jolted. Last night was exactly the same… I absolutely love this feeling, and the kicks are only going to get stronger.
The thing that I find with him though, is that whenever a hand (mine, hubby’s, Gnings or my mums) is placed where the kick was, baby stops kicking. It’s like he’s kicking to get the attention for us to actually put our hands there. Hubby said that he might be doing it as a form of comfort. Possibly.
But as the title of this post says… On standing, I can definitely, no longer see my toes any more.