Today I booked in with the midwife.
I can’t believe I forgot about all of the questions. I can’t believe that I thought I was ok now. I cant’t believe that talking about The Preschooler’s birth is still as ridiculously difficult as it was four years ago. But it is.
Listing all of the children on a form. Answering questions about their pregnancies. Answering questions about their births. Having to go back there in my mind. And feeling as sick, tired and defeated as I did then. It has not been a good day.
My due date has now been calculated as the 13th November. Exactly one month before The Preschooler’s birthday.
I’ve been recommended to go back to my GP to discuss trialling different medication for the sickness. The tablets I take now can only be taken at bedtime since they make me drowsy; Ghostwriterdaddy works away and I cannot be drowsy while I’m in charge of the children. Instead, I am making it through til around 3pm and then I am clawing. Clawing my way to bedtime. Gritting my teeth against the day and just simply holding on. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on for.
My midwife called the hospital to check they had received my referral; the letter had arrived today and they will be calling me for a dating scan in a couple of week’s time. No bloods were taken today, since my midwife can only send them to my local hospital and I will not be having this baby there. Instead, bloods will be done at the hospital when I book in there. My blood pressure was taken; again it was low. My urine was tested; all was fine. My forms were filled and my birth choices were laid out before me. I can speak to my consultant at the hospital but it is most likely I will be advised to have a fourth c-section.
And then, time up.
And so it goes on. Constant, dreadful nausea. Exhaustion. Food aversions. Rolling stomach. But the poppyseed is still there.