One year ago, we stepped out onto a path unknown. Unchartered territory for us as parents to be. We’d done this all before. We knew the score. A growth scan was no big deal. We intended to humour the doctors for this one appointment, then opt to cancel the rest. We were so sure they would tell us that baby was small, but everything was fine. We were so sure this pregnancy, my last, would see it’s natural end around 42 weeks or so. We were so sure.
We were so wrong.
As expected, baby was small. We smiled knowingly and told the monographer that all our babies were small. And all were fine. A lot of fuss over nothing, but at least we were being checked. And in the waiting room, we chatted about names and and we talked about where we’d go for lunch. Normal things. My name was called and we trotted off, again so sure that all was fine.
It was a different doctor this time, and her demeanour was strange. She slapped my files down on the small table and asked me to sit on the bed. A student wanted to feel my tummy and listen to the heart beat, was that ok?
That was ok.
The student had shaking hands but she measured and it was recorded. The doctor though, was not happy with her measurement. She took her own, and summoned the student into the side room that connected ours with another consulting room. Thin walls. We heard her tell the student that the baby was ‘too small’ and she must make sure she measured from x to y for an accurate result.
We rolled our eyes. That damn measuring tape!
And so our patience was wearing thin. We wanted out of here. What we got instead, was a calendar full of appointments.
Baby is too small.
Yes, we know. We expected that.
We’ll try to get you to 34 weeks.
Hang on, what?
No, no. I want a VBAC.
You’ve had three sections?
You’re not having a VBAC! (laughing. Yes. Laughing)
I don’t want another section.
34 weeks is too early to induce you. And after three sections we can’t induce you safely. Baby is too small for a vaginal delivery.