Happy October, everyone. Can’t believe it’s come around to this time of year again already. October is always one of the busiest months in my life, even under normal circumstances (tons of birthdays, Thanksgiving, and Halloween) and it’s going to be even more turbulent this year. Brock would be turning one a few days after Nathan’s expected arrival, and I really have no idea how that’s going to sit, emotionally or otherwise. I suppose I’ll have to cross that bridge when I get to it, though. Trying to predict how it will go now would just turn out to be wasted effort, I’m sure.
Our induction to meet Nathan is scheduled for October 10th presently, which means I’ve only got 9 more days to get ready (at most). I am term today, so really, it’s anyone’s guess what happens from here. I’m not really expecting anything to happen on its own because of how Brock’s delivery went – even being induced at 40+5, it was really hard to get him out, my body just seems to hold onto babies a bit TOO tightly – but I’m also not willing to rule it out. I am dealing with some pretty significant pressure and aching in my pelvis that I don’t remember getting with Brock, which makes me feel like things might be moving in the right direction on their own a bit quicker this time. Honestly, I really hope that this is the case for several reasons.
I wish I could say that things were going smoothly in general, but they’re really not. I was reasonably calm and collected until this morning, when I received a call from my obstetrician’s nurse about my appointment yesterday. The ultrasound had some unusual results, but nothing that I thought were jarring red flags; for example, this sonographer seemed to think that he was in the 85th percentile for weight (where the one who had scanned me only 5 days prior said he was 60th), and this one also measured almost 15mm more amniotic fluid than the previous one did, which puts me back into pretty severe polyhydramnios territory. I had dismissed it, finding the results being that different only a few days apart very strange, but chalking it up to a margin of error on one tech or the other’s behalf.
Anyway, my OB had a look at the results today and did not like them in the least. They are radically different in bad ways, and she is less passive about that than I am. Not only do they want me to go and have an NST over the weekend (which, at least, I can do at the hospital in town), but they are also calling me in for yet another ultrasound next Tuesday. Oh, joy… more trips to Toronto… more missed hours at work for my husband… and, best of all, more worry. As someone who’s had a previous stillbirth, telling me that I had suboptimal results on something is a surefire way to make me freak out. It’s weighing really heavily on my mind, and I don’t know how I’m going to make it to the end at this point without freaking out. I keep trying to will my body to get things started on its own… if my water broke right now, it would actually be a mercy, even though my apartment is a war zone and I haven’t even finished painting the nursery yet.
I keep trying to tell myself that it’s only 9 more days at most, and things could start happening at any time, that the odds of something going wrong again are really slim… and that this should be enough to placate me, but my husband and I are just so collectively scared and stressed out that I can’t reason with myself. Heck, I have humoured the idea that the kidney problems that they’re claiming now require additional attention are actually a front for a secondary issue, like that he’s managed to get tangled in his cord the way his big brother did, and they’re just not willing to tell me that because then I’d really lose it. I don’t know. I can’t picture a happy outcome right now, and it’s terrifying me. I just want him out and here, safe and sound. I’m so done.