26th December 2016 & 2nd January 2017
My body is officially not my own. I know it hasn’t been for a while, but this week confirmed it.
It feels like baby boy has dropped lower and I officially cannot walk normally. My mild waddle has grown into a full-blown waddle – complete with limp. My hips click. I get electric shocks in places you should not get electric shocks. Everything leaks more frequently.
I may or may not have peed myself a few times.
Needless to say, everything hurts and I’m 90% sure I’m dying.
It feels like the baby is using my bladder and cervix as a trampoline. Some days, I wake up and feel like my whole body is one giant bruise. I swear, this child is going to grow up to be a rugby player or have a wicked swing on a hammer. It hurts.
I swear I’ve been experiencing contractions. Mild ones. It feels like period cramps, but ramped up a notch or two. I can still talk through them, but they do take my breath away when they first appear. They last a few hours and then stop. At first, I was excited and now I’m just annoyed. Some days they seem to go on forever and I’m just about to call my midwife when they stop. It’s like someone flips a switch and my body shuts down.
Fun and games.
I did end up calling my midwife and complaining about a few things my body was doing. It’s not pretty and I’m not about to mention it here. I do not need to relive it. Ever. I will say that I followed her advice and it fixed itself. You know, except for the crippling pain. I officially cannot pee without it feeling like there are razorblades in my body. Seriously. There is just so much pressure that my body freaks out and cramps. All. The. Time.
Everyone told me that the first trimester was terrible. That was a walk in the park compared to this. I haven’t felt the ‘glow’ and I’m sure the glow is a myth.
My ‘glow’ is sweat.
It’s summer, I’m hot, and all I do is nap. No one would see my glow even if it did exist. Sorry to disappoint. Want my advice?
Avoid being heavily pregnant in the middle of summer or, you know, risk losing your mind.
The pain got really bad this week.
Time to call the midwife bad.
Like I said earlier, the pain had been going on since before Christmas when I was twenty-nine weeks pregnant. I toughed it out until I couldn’t tough it out any more. The pain was making me miserable and slightly delirious. I had reached my breaking point.
I ended up going in to Whitianga to be seen in the clinic. I was put on the trace immediately and it showed everything that was going on. Turns out it was a whole lot of nothing. The pain had stopped on my way in, so it made me look like I was being completely paranoid. Until she was about to take me off. The pain came back with a vengeance and it turns out that his heart rate was being affected. A lot. The peaks and troughs looked a lot like labour, so my midwife called the hospital.
They asked me to come in. Again.
We began the three-hour journey, and arrived in Hamilton just after midnight.
I had been cramping and having ‘braxton hicks contractions’ the whole way there. They magically stopped when I got to the hospital. Just like someone had flipped a switch. They put me on the trace and something was showing up, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been three hours previously. I was on the trace for hours while they took blood and other samples from me.
They did numerous checks and ran all the tests.
They put everything through the labs.
I was told that everything was fine and I was sent on my merry way.
Needless to say, I was cranky and tired.
I got home and put myself on bed rest. I was not in the mood for anything.