25th July 2016
Let’s call this the ‘settling in’ week.
Honestly, not a lot happened.
I unpacked my car and set up my room.
I did assignments. Assignment after assignment after assignment. I think I had to hand in five assignments within ten days of each other. It felt like I barely had time to catch my breath before I was jumping
blindly into the next assignment. Needless to say, I got behind in my class readings and I have been playing catch up ever since. (Opps). This last semester of college really is no joke. I may or may not have a countdown running on my phone. It is brilliant and terrifying at the same time.
I went to the doctors and had another battery of blood tests. Fun.
It seemed the one thing everyone kept asking was: Do you have a midwife yet?
I had been putting it off until I knew exactly where I was going to be for the rest of my pregnancy. I knew I was only going to see her once a month, but I didn’t want to drive three hours (one way) for a one hour appointment. I also didn’t want to have to transfer care when I did move back to Kuaotunu.
Well, now I was in Kuaotunu, so I didn’t really have an excuse for not having one. I mean, I was eleven weeks pregnant. The search began.
It lasted about one day.
I lucked out and managed to get the first midwife I contacted, and she is brilliant. I am so, so lucky. She lives in the bay over from me, so her ‘popping in’ isn’t a huge deal as she has to drive right past my road on occasion. It was a bit of a mad panic for a hot minute though. My GP had been talking to me about getting the first trimester screening done, and I was coming up to the ‘cut off’ period quicker than I anticipated. I wanted to get the combined screening done, which meant that it had to be completed before fourteen weeks.
Unluckily for me, I was still relatively uncertain of my dates, and I was quite aware that I could have been twelve weeks instead of eleven. It was of the utmost importance that I got the ultrasound and blood test done within the next ten days. Panic, panic, panic.
The midwife said ‘leave it with me’, so I trusted that it was going to happen. Sooner or later.
I finally had some good news. I was able to walk again. Slowly. One day I woke up and it felt like my back/tailbone was getting better. I didn’t want to jinx it, so I kept myself on bed rest for the next few days until I woke up and hallelujah, it didn’t hurt at all! I might have done a small celebratory dance.
I totally did. It had been a rather hellish few weeks, and I was glad to be leaving it behind me. Being eleven weeks pregnant was starting to look alright.
I thought I had felt hunger before…but it was never quite like this. I was eating every hour or two. It felt like I was constantly thinking about food or eating food. This was the ‘touch my food and I will cut you’ week. The chocolate milk craving really kicked into high gear and I ended up drinking two litres within twenty-four hours. Whoops.
Apart from being constantly tired, I could finally see that I was starting to ‘turn the corner’ in pregnancy. I was almost enjoying myself. Almost. Maybe being eleven weeks pregnant wasn’t so bad after all.