storbarnsförälder

Today we had an hour-long appointment with the consultant obstetrician - not the one who's down to operate on me - to discuss the details of the c-section. The good news is that my birth plan only needs two minor edits, in three pages, and she was absolutely happy with everything else. The bad news is that discussing the section as a likelihood rather than as a Vague Eventually Plan is really freaking scary. I am sick and shaking. Linnea is watching TV and Rob is back at work and I can't even cope with the idea of seeing my close neighbour friend, let alone anyone else. I am wretched.

What it boils down to is that, armed with actual information and statistics, there's almost a 24% chance that I tear very badly indeed delivering vaginally if the baby is over 4kg. So after 37 weeks gestation, there's not much point even trying - the risk is too great. My existing injuries are sufficiently severe that my chance of injury may even be greater than that. That's not a risk we can take; it's nto fair to the adults who would have to care for me afterwards, and it's not fair to either child.

In addition, I'm getting fabulous splitting pains in my pelvis. So no more sitting comfortably on the birthing ball, no more cycling, no more anything that might open it further. I've gotten very used indeed to the freedom of movement afforded by the trike and losing it now is going to be really tough. It's back to the buggy, and walking, which is slower and harder work. Can't lock the buggy up outside when I go somewhere with a lot of chairs, for example. Tomorrow is swimming; I may just take Linnea walking to the pool. I must remember not to do too much in the leg department in the pool. No more breast stroke. Dammit. If I cut out all my exercise, I'm going to be a big spongy mess by the time I actually have this baby. I need exercise. It keeps me sane.

Only four weeks to go, at most. I'm 34 weeks pregnant now, and the section is booked for 38 weeks. I won't be going any longer than that. My midwife is going to make appointments for me to see both the anaesthetist and an operating theatre - my memories are very brightly lit with huge gaps in, so if there's something in a theatre that will upset me to see it's best to do that before the day I go to have a baby. I have an appointment to meet the surgeon who will cut holes in me. I have my second anti-d appointment.

We can do this. It's a damn shame that the relationship counsellor we were seeing to help us deal with the strain all of this is bound to put on us has been hospitalised, though. We'll cope anyway... but it would have been easier with help.