So when we went for our tour last Sunday, I was feeling under the weather. Fainty and nauseated, and with painful braxton hicks, I thought that I should probably just mention it to the midwives after the tour.
Needless to say, I was a little surprised when our "checkup" turned into an overnight stay, with me hooked up to heart monitors and a saline drip. They thought I was probably dehydrated, because sometimes that can cause labour like symptoms and increased heart rate. After being forced to drink 2 litres of water (which really helped the nausea!) and 2 litres of intravenous saline later, that idea was replaced with another.
Maybe I have a virus?
The quickest blood tests I have ever received (40 minutes) later, and they are none the wiser. Nothing showed up. Healthy all round. Except that my heart rate was over 100 and little bubs was over 210. The midwives shared concerned, meaningful looks amongst themselves.
They deliberated for hours. Should we cut her open and get this baby out, or shouldn't we?
Being a couple of days over 37 weeks, they kept passing the buck. Superiors and then superiors to superiors were sent into my room, each time standing beside my bed and pouring over the 4 - 5 hours of trace that had been pumped out of the machine beside me.
It was a frightening place to be in. Firstly, because I wanted to scream to them "you're not cutting me open without my approval!" and then realising that they were the experts here, and thinking that there is a possibility that they could save my daughter's life. How did I know what was best for my child at that point?
It was a daunting few hours. For someone like me, who loves answers and research, and well thought through decisions, it was excruciating.
I prayed many times. Not just about the baby's health, but also about accepting whatever was in store for me. What comfort it brought to me, knowing that there was a reason to all of this happening, and a God who is orchestrating all of this for my good. To better me somehow. To stretch me and force me to rely on him in the unknown.
The specialists decided to wait a little longer till they assessed my situation again. A few hours passed and whatever was ailing me subsided. Our heartrates were lowering to a more "acceptable" level. They scheduled 2 ultrasounds to check for placental bleeds (of which none were found), and I got to see my gorgeous baby at 37 weeks for free. Twice!
Once my fainting episodes subsided, I enjoyed some alone time in the ward (which was well needed) and also some mandatory bed rest, which despite the rock hard beds, could still be counted as a blessing from the Lord. My parents looked after little Avalon till well into the next day, and despite throwing up the breakfast, I did get to enjoy and keep down a rather delightful "cooked" lunch which I didn't prepare myself.
So the bottom line- they let me go. Hooray! I thought they may keep me in there for weeks after being "double checked" a thousand times before releasing me.
And all in all the hospital extended visit was a real bonus for me. God helped me to deal with my fear of a caesarean, I saw my already chubby 3.4kg baby twice, received a cooked lunch and free babysitting, and several hours of uninterrupted time with my husband (which was the best gift of all. He's altogether lovely!) With the added bonus of now feeling very comfortable at the hospital, which I now know won't stall my labour heading in.
My God really does know how to give me good gifts- even when on the outset it looks like a nightmare.
So now I'm home and happy and feeling very connected to this second life God's placed inside me. I can't wait to see her for real.
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