Right. So we’ve had a crazy week and a half. On Wednesday 3 September, after spending a crafty day making blinds for the lounge, I started feeling that nasty back pain I had when I went into preterm labour with Cameron at 32 weeks. I phoned the doctor who sent me a script for pain killers and told me to take a warm bath. But an hour later I could still feel my uterus hardening so I packed a bag and Col took me off to hospital. I was admitted and spent three nights there in what felt like the worst sort of déjà-vu.
Colin and I were completely blindsided by this turn of events and spent the first 24 hours is a state of total shock. We just couldn’t believe it was happening again. The doctor hadn’t been able to tell us why I went into preterm labour with Cameron, and at our scan on Thursday afternoon he couldn’t give us a reason once again as the baby was absolutely fine from what he could see. But on the Friday morning, blood tests showed that my white blood cell count was high, meaning that I had some sort of infection. I was put on two antibiotics, and felt somewhat relieved that there was at least a reason for this repeat performance.
I was discharged on Saturday as my white blood cell count was dropping and clearly the antibiotics were doing the trick. The doctor told me to take it very easy for the first week and I’ve spent the last eight days either lying in bed reading or in my hammock contemplating life. It’s been quite peaceful really, especially since Thursday when I finished my medication and slowly started to feel like I had a functioning brain again!
And then in a nasty plot twist, yesterday afternoon I went into labour again. It escalated much more quickly this time and by the time we arrived at the hospital I was in substantial pain and could feel the individual contractions (previously it’s just been a constant sort of pain). So here I lie once again, hooked up to the fetal monitor and looping out on meds.
Whether it’s the medication, the shock or a defense mechanism, I’m feeling rather numb at this point. But when I do try to analyze my emotions I find anger, frustration and fear all bubbling around. I feel let down by my body which seems to have some sort of objection to being in the third trimester of pregnancy, and an utterly fruitless anger at the situation in general. I’m frustrated by the lack of understanding about why this is happening. And I’m scared – about this baby being born prematurely, about the possibility of spending the next seven weeks in and out of hospital, and about how all of this is affecting Cameron who we’d just managed to settle after my first hospital stint.
The fighter in me is still hoping to carry this baby to term and to even, God-willing, have a natural delivery. I’m quite aware that this sounds utterly ludicrous and unfeasible at this point, but that hope feels like a lifeline right now so I’m holding onto it. Aside from that, all I can do now is wait.