But firstly, the result of the “Will I, Won’t I C-section Scenario”. So the inevitable conclusion was NO, I won’t. Not unless it’s an emergency. So I went to see the consultant midwife, who btw was Mrs Glamorous! All perfectly blow dried hair, Silk shift dress, chunky beads and lovely I’ve-just-back-from-the-Med tan. Hard to imagine her in her scrubs, down the business end, covered in all manner of bodily fluids. She was veeeeery sympathetic and noddy (Oh yes, that must have been awful) when I was re-telling my woes. Especially focusing on the horrible morphine come down (yes, a lot of people have that reaction to opiates)…But as soon as I’d finished my pitch she started listing the seemingly never-ending reasons why I was a great candidate for VAGINAL DELIVERY!!!! Ugh. One of those things being that I had got to 10cm in the first labour. Um, MOST people get to 10cm right? Apparently most people requesting a section don’t. (cough, cough, bollox, cough) But the other thing which shot me in the foot was that I said I wasn’t scared of labour. Which tbh, at this stage I’m not. I will be closer to the time, I’m sure. But I wasn’t traumatised by the LABOUR. Up to the pushing stage and the pushing itself was ok. Painful, obvs but not traumatic. It was what I expected. It was the clusterfuck of shit that came afterwards that I hated. So that’s it. Game over. Bring on the wizard sleeve and the complete bladder prolapse. The only good things to come out of the meeting are that firstly I’ve now discovered that on the Delivery Suite (where you go if you are consultant led and there’s no chance you’ll get a lovely natural, intervention free labour) the birthing pool is not entirely useless! They now have an underwater monitor at last, meaning I will be able to use it during labour, providing of course that the room is free, there are 2 midwives available, and the monitor is working etc all at the time that I will be delivering. And seeing as they couldn’t seem to correlate rooms and midwives availability last time, I’m not holding out much hope this time. But still, nice to know it’s there. And the other thing was that she has set up a meeting with an anaesthetist so I can discuss my pain relief options. Eg tell him I don’t want that morphine injection coming anywhere near me this time and that my epidural didn’t work properly so they can see if there are ways to improve this for the next time. Eg give me a bigger dosage of the numb drugs dude!
Onto other things. So Wednesday morning I had BMI clinic, along with the gamut of other tests and things I have done at my weekly ante-natal sessions. For those not in the know, ie people who manage to have the self-restraint to remain within a sensible BMI range, BMI clinic is a relatively new thing (I didn’t have it in my last pregnancy) where they do a physical assessment of you to see how accessible various parts of your body are should you require surgical intervention or anaesthesia during the labour process. Also it’s an exercise (not deliberately of course) in humiliation if, like me, you have put on TWELVE KILOS!!!! So to us Brits that’s TWENTY FOUR POUNDS! NEARLY TWO STONE! And yes I WAS shouting. I am disgusted at my bad self. What a porker. I’m only 28 weeks. Just on the precipice of the third trimester and THIS is the trimester where most of your weight should go on! Not only that, I am already a massive fat but now I have been pushed right into the morbidly obese range. Shexshy. In no way. Also I say pushed, I “pushed” myself didn’t I? Stuffing my face full of fat & carbs for months non-stop since the sickness lifted. And of course doing NO exercise for months and months. More on that later tho.
So the BMI clinic. It was actually with a midwife I see quite regularly at the hospital. She’s nice and sympathetic about the cholestasis and asks me about it when I see her. So we were having a nice little chat and then, as procedure, she asks me to stand on the scales. When the pinging OMG-YOU’RE-SO-FAT-GET-OFF-ME numbers show up, her manner changes completely. She suddenly becomes very grave and starts patronising me about diet in pregnancy, could I start coming to the slimming world classes they hold in the hospital etc and it’s just as well I’ve got an appointment to see the anaesthetist, because as I am now in the morbidly obese category I would automatically be put down to see them. The thing that bothers me here is that a) I’m fat, you can see that with your eyes. I didn’t suddenly become fat when I got on the scales, so why change the manner that you speak to me? Also, you, the midwife, are ALSO in overweight with a BMI at least over 35 so it seems a little pot-kettley-black. It was all very strange. Almost like a power trip. And as it is, I am mortified myself that I have been such a big pig in the last few months so it’s not remotely helpful to have you tell me to avoid eating cakes non-stop. Am I being oversensitive?! I am probably. It’s like it’s ok for me to say I’m fat but YOU’RE not allowed to! Well, you are. But she’s not. Not in that tone of voice. Not like I am some silly child. Ok now I am acting like a child, oh god!!!!!!
*in a small voice* I know she’s right though. I DO need to watch what I am eating, more than that really, STOP eating crap and actually start sticking to healthy eating plan.
Anyway the assessment was seeing how far I could open my mouth, should they need to get a tube down there shockingly I was the SECOND biggest and not THE biggest! Looking at my neck area and ability to move it….um I am guessing this was for people whose chin and neck meld into one. Looking at the backs of my hands, thru the podge, to the availability of veins. And finally looking at my back to see how easy it would be to get a massive needle thru. When she did this, she found my scar from last time, which I didn’t even know I had. And here again she made a fuss about it being difficult to get a needle through…apparently my spine wasn’t “palpable”. Now, I didn’t realise this at the time, but when I got home, I weighed myself. I am only 2lbs heavier now that I was at the end of my last pregnancy. So really, would 2lbs mean the difference between them being able to get a needle easily or not?! I don’t know. I do know that I felt like a literal big fat burden on the NHS when I left there. And in all seriousness, I do feel genuine regret about that. I am the first to give dirty looks to smoking pregnant mothers standing in front of the “No Smoking” signs by the antenatal clinic, thinking evil thoughts about them. But actually, my weight is probably costing the NHS more than their fag addictions.
So in the spirit of trying to get my bum in gear and not to put on any more WEIGHT (!!!), I met up with a fellow zumba buddy who is now in also duffed up and only 6 weeks behind me in due-dateness. She dragged me along on Wed night to my first aqua-natal class. I was sceptical that it would be a bit like some whale-esque splashing about but actually it was a really good laugh and it felt BRILLIANT to be doing some exercise again. Especially because my back is killing now, even just getting up off the sofa. So to be able to exercise with my weight supported by the water, was just awesome. And it was fun, Kerrie and I giggled through-out. So much so, that we attempted another class on the weekend and are planning to go regularly now. Hooray! And huge thanks to Kerrie because without her motivation, I’d still be stuck to the sofa every night.
Right this week then, my main goal will be to not put on ANYMORE weight, go to the aqua-natal classes and focus on not being a fatty boom boom.
Have a good one guys! XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX