I feel fine, and the baby feels fine, but the tests don't agree. My blood pressure has crept back up, and my liver was doing creepy things last week. The sort of things that made my midwife/doctor worry about this. For fuck's sake. Obviously I'm worried but mostly I'm just annoyed. I think in a normal pregnancy there's enough to worry about, and I'm feeling put-upon and victimized that - short of week 27 - I get to worry about extra shit too.
Especially given that I don't really have any associated symptoms - just some funny test results. Baby's kicking, heart ticking merrily away, etc., etc., everything looks to be fine, and I still get to fucking worry every time I wake up with a headache from the heating that I'm having to blast because Australia's so fucking cold at night during the winter, every time I feel a twinge everywhere - staring at my extremeties and waiting for them to swell up - pissing in interminable cups for protein tests, and answering the same fucking questions over and over because I'm too much of a fucking pinko to pay for my health care and hence to avoid the endless round of fucking student doctors and midwives on top of a roster of nurses, midwives and doctors who only seem to talk to each other once a day, getting my fucking veins punctured by said student midwives who haven't quite figured out how to take blood yet . . .
Fuck. And all this happened before the weekend, too. I had a three-hour wait on Friday while they decided whether or not to keep me in hospital for the weekend. They aren't, but I get to go back for fuck knows how long on Monday, doing the same shit again, with another fucking cunt of a glucose test on top of it.
I don't give a fuck. It's fine if I get sick, I'm just pissing myself over the idea of the baby being delivered very prematurely, which is what's done if pre-eclampsia or HELLP rear up. If I can just hold it in until week 36, that's fine. Even week 34. I'll put up with any pain or liver failure or whatever, as long as the baby gets to be healthy. Week 26 and a half, for fuck's sake. I'm reasonably nice to my body, so why is this happening now? Two months from now and I'd be easy. Whatever. Hopefully nothing's actually happening. Every day the baby stays in there is a little victory - every second, every minute.
Especially given that I don't really have any associated symptoms - just some funny test results. Baby's kicking, heart ticking merrily away, etc., etc., everything looks to be fine, and I still get to fucking worry every time I wake up with a headache from the heating that I'm having to blast because Australia's so fucking cold at night during the winter, every time I feel a twinge everywhere - staring at my extremeties and waiting for them to swell up - pissing in interminable cups for protein tests, and answering the same fucking questions over and over because I'm too much of a fucking pinko to pay for my health care and hence to avoid the endless round of fucking student doctors and midwives on top of a roster of nurses, midwives and doctors who only seem to talk to each other once a day, getting my fucking veins punctured by said student midwives who haven't quite figured out how to take blood yet . . .
Fuck. And all this happened before the weekend, too. I had a three-hour wait on Friday while they decided whether or not to keep me in hospital for the weekend. They aren't, but I get to go back for fuck knows how long on Monday, doing the same shit again, with another fucking cunt of a glucose test on top of it.
I don't give a fuck. It's fine if I get sick, I'm just pissing myself over the idea of the baby being delivered very prematurely, which is what's done if pre-eclampsia or HELLP rear up. If I can just hold it in until week 36, that's fine. Even week 34. I'll put up with any pain or liver failure or whatever, as long as the baby gets to be healthy. Week 26 and a half, for fuck's sake. I'm reasonably nice to my body, so why is this happening now? Two months from now and I'd be easy. Whatever. Hopefully nothing's actually happening. Every day the baby stays in there is a little victory - every second, every minute.
2 commenti:
You can't have a pregnancy without a crisis moment...without a scary test. Blake's kidney's looked to small, my nephew had a troubling dark spot on his brain, etc.
This is where, for the price of cable television, having the same doctor for 15 years comes in handy (I insert this tidbit so you can think about putting a reactionary like me in my place for a few minutes instead of...).
We've talked about it before...my sister went through this and eight years later has two very healthy...very LouD...youngins. Even at the extreme end, they know how to deal with premmies. Mazes who pops up on the blog sometimes had a son born ridiculously early because of complications (like months) and the kid is in top shape...he's pretty funny actually.
Nothing scarier than a pregnancy because of what's at stake...just try being on F-Word's end of things. You're only worried about the baby...he's worried about both of you and he's probably having to do his own laundry at this point :). There needs to be more focus on how hard pregnancy is on men.
If you ever consider a change of career, you might want to look into antagonism therapy. You're very good at it and I know from all those TV shows based on the northeastern seaboard that your whole national emotional culture revolves around therapists.
(Thank you)
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