By Melissa Meehan
A week ago I was sitting in the birthing suite, just 34 weeks pregnant hoping and wishing I wouldn’t meet my baby just yet.
I’d been there for almost two weeks.
It was actually a huge surprise to me that I was in hospital in the first place, let alone close to racking up almost two weeks there.
Mind you – I’m still pregnant. We celebrated 35 weeks on Thursday and are hoping to make it to the all important 37!
But there are no promises.
Despite numerous attempts on his or her behalf, baby still hasn’t been born.
It all started when I was just 32 weeks pregnant. I was at home with Miss Two when out of nowhere I started getting pretty severe cramps in my stomach.
At first I thought I might have pulled a muscle, but when walking from the couch to the bathroom became a problem I decided to call my doctor.
The nurse at the other end of the line said it could just be muscle cramps but to call the maternity ward and see what they thought.
They told me to come straight in.
Convinced it was nothing serious and it would be a few hours of monitoring, I told my husband to drop me at the door of the hospital and head home to start the bath and bed routine for our daughter.
But as luck would have it, a CTG scan found I was having regular contractions and the nurses called my obstetrician to come in.
I was having what they call threatened pre-term labour.
I was quickly admitted, set up home in the birth suite and told that it would possible I would be meeting my baby sooner rather than later.
But they would hit it with all of the drugs they possibly could in an attempt to stop labour.
They were able to stop it. But the contractions continued and, because of my speedy labour with my daughter, no one was trusting my body.
I was also warned that because baby was so early there was a likelihood they would be transferred to a bigger hospital if they were born before 34 weeks.
There were to be many more false starts and stops over the coming days – but luckily the medication worked a treat.
And any attempt to move me into the maternity ward was thwarted with my contractions heating up almost every time it was mentioned.
So for the entire time I was there I suffered very real contractions that were quite regular.
Even after a week of being home, most nights I’m faced with the very real decision of rushing to the hospital or waiting to see if the contractions taper off.
They feel very real and my stomach goes so hard – it’s exactly like I’m in labour.
It’s exhausting both emotionally and physically.
I just want this baby to be as healthy as can be. And that means staying inside for a few more weeks.
But I can’t help but think my body is failing them.
I also can’t help but worry about going into labour at home and not knowing whether it’s a false alarm or the real deal.
Time will tell.
