Last Monday was a big day for us. First, it marked 35 weeks and it also meant time for another ultrasound to see how big Baby Girl was measuring!
According to the ultrasound technician, she measured two weeks ahead and weighed in at 7 pounds. Not a shock at all to me. Actually, my doctor and I were a little surprised that she didn’t measure bigger. When I was pregnant with Evan, we had an ultrasound with him at 36 weeks and he measured 8 pounds 7 ounces. So if my math and the doctor’s are correct, she should weigh somewhere in the 9 pound range when born at 39 weeks.
I mention her being born at 39 weeks because I have a feeling she will follow in her big brother’s footsteps…and by that I mean not wanting to come out on her own. After my doctor performed my cervical exam, he said my cervix was still closed. No change. Nothing, not even a fingertip! Let me stop here and give you a debriefing about my cervix. It has been dubbed the “cervix of steel”. With Evan, I never even made it to one centimeter. You would think that given all the pressure of a big baby resting upon it would cause it to somewhat dilate. Well, apparently that was only a theory that existed in my imagination. Given all the circumstances, another c-section will most likely be the plan.
Now on to three days ago and another doctor’s appointment.
Everything checked out great with Baby Girl. I, on the other hand, was told news that I didn’t necessarily want to hear. My doctor informed me that my platelet count dropped below 100,000 and that if it continued to stay below 100,000, then I would have to be put completely out during the c-section procedure. Apparently there is a law/rule that an anesthesiologist cannot administer an epidural to anyone with a platelet count below 100,000. Of course it’s all for the safety of the mother and other mumbo jumbo legal reasons.
It’s just disheartening, the thought of not being awake while your child is born. When my doctor told me the news I was shocked and surprised, but it didn’t officially sink in until an hour later when I was standing in line at Subway. While standing in the long line waiting to order, it hit me hard and this is when I had a meltdown. All these thoughts were racing through my mind: What if I don’t wake up? What if I bleed out and die? I’m never going to meet my baby girl! I’ll never see Lovebug and Evan again! What if Lovebug remarried and she’s some sloozy gal? Then this means some slooze bag would be raising my children! Would anyone miss me? What will my tombstone say? Will I even have a tombstone?
I’m just tired of being a statistic. It seems my whole life I’ve been one. If something odd or unusual could happen, it always happened to me. Why can’t I have a simple and normal pregnancy? Why do I gain a ridiculous amount of weight? Why do my legs look like this?
These were all the thoughts and concerns I pouted about. After I ate my sorrows away, (which included my sub, two cookies and countless Twizzlers later) I finally snapped out of my poor, poor me attitude. I realized in the grand scheme, the most important aspect to Lovebug and I is having the healthiest baby possible. My body went through crazy things with Evan, but in the end, he was a healthy baby boy. And if that means I have to do it all over again plus more, than that’s what I’ll do. I’m just sorry if you have to see me on a daily basis.
P.S. Right before I wrote this post, I read a post from a fellow Charleston blogger. She is also pregnant (two weeks ahead of me) with a baby girl. I like to visit her blog to compare bellies and what not. Well, her post didn’t help my situation when she posted a picture of herself 35 weeks pregnant in a two piece bathing suit. Literally, her belly was a the same size as mine when I was like 16 weeks pregnant. And I’m pretty sure she was trying to poke it out as much as possible. Grrrr! That is all I will say for now. Except, that you are very much welcome that I didn’t post such a picture of me.