Or at least that is what it feels like.
And hopefully, in writing this all out, the universe will have a look and think to itself "hmm...no, I have better things to do."
Also, I am writing this in the calm zen state of the post-glucose challenge test sugar crash. I am not feeling any kind of anxiety at this exact moment (and to be honest, I don't feel like I will ever feel anxious again...I have crashed out like a 6 year old who snuck an energy drink) (spellcheck tells me "snuck" is wrong...but I don't think "sneaked" sounds all that right either...and since spellcheck is also not recognizing "spellcheck", well, how do I know it can be trusted?).
Here is how it feels.
I got a lucky pregnancy. We were RE bound, and then we got a natural one that actually stuck, after two but most likely three early losses. In the back of my mind, whatever caused those early losses is still lurking around (not that it will get me now since it seemed to like to get the early pregnancies only, but more like maybe in the future, if we try again...). Anyway, we got lucky.
I have had an easy pregnancy. In the throes of my first trimester nausea (which was never worse than moderate hangover), I would get comments from people who didn't know I was pregnant that I was looking well, and healthy and even glowing (I don't think they were being sarcastic either). I have gained minimal weight, yet enough to not cause concern. And I have done this eating naughty foods too. I have avoided constipation and roids. I have avoided urinary tract infections. I have sailed through the second trimester with the only concern really being a small baby, and since those run in my family, it is easy enough to dismiss as genetics. I will stop now, before other pregnant women can put down the pickles, preperation-H and puke buckets to go pick up the pitchforks.
So...I got lucky and things have been easy. For awhile I started to think things would carry on this way. I really, honestly did. But oh so slowly doubt has been creeping in. Things have been too good to be true. When is the other shoe going to drop? Because seriously, how could I get so lucky?? Gradually watching my BP creep upwards when it should have been staying low, bubs continuing to measure small...these things have slowly wormed their way in. It feels like the pull of the inevitable. That shoe is hanging up there by a lace, and I am looking up at it and thinking shit.
There is a list in the back of my maternity notes (where my records are kept...I get to keep it, though the midwife has a copy and a few other things I don't have), and this list has all sorts of medical conditions, previous maternal history through pregnancy and labour to after the birth. Next to each is an instruction for the midwife and patient if the condition warrants a consultation, a transfer, or an emergency. Pre-eclampsia is a transferable condition, and the description given in the book for diagnosing it is as follows:
BP of greater or equal to 140/90 and/or relative rise of more than 30/15 mmHG from booking BP and any of the following:
1. proteinuria greater than .3g/24 hours; or protein/reatinine ratio of greater than or equal to .3, or 2+ protein on dipstick testing
2. platelets less than 150 x 10/9/l
3. abnormal renal or liver function
4. imminent eclampsia
My booking BP was 105/65. My most recent and all time high BP was 130/80. That is a difference of 25/15. I only need that top number to go up by 5 to hit the BP part of the definition. And since it seems to be creeping up each appointment, I honestly think I will hit that within the next month (I hope I do not). Thankfully my urine has had no protein on the dipstick testing. I have no idea about the platelets but may have had blood taken for that today. My renal and liver function was tested today. I can't imagine what imminent eclampsia entails but I am confident I am nowhere near imminent for eclampsia. But I do feel like I am shuffling slowly towards an inevitable pre-eclampsia. I am worried that that will be the shoe that hits me, because that is the shoe that has terrified me ever since watching an episode of ER. And Downton Abbey. Scary, scary shit.
I am being monitored. My midwife ordered those tests because I have had swelling (which honestly does seem work related...3 days off and my feet were nearly back to normal). I am being monitored. If I develop this, we will catch it and it won't be so bad as it would be if we didn't catch it. It won't be a picnic, mind, especially so early, but I think, I hope, I will pass these blood tests today. Which is no guarantee that I will avoid this ugly shoe, but hell, maybe I can. Maybe it will stay up there looming over me. Maybe it will wait and drop at 39 weeks. Maybe I will find myself in the hospital on bedrest next week with a likely very preemie bubs on the way. Maybe I have imagined the shoe in the first place and there is nothing up there but blue sky. I hate not knowing, but how can anyone know what the future will bring?
And so...I am going to ignore the shoe for now. Let it hang up there. I could worry myself sick about it, but I think I have obsessed enough lately to let it go for now. I will be paying attention to the warning signs, of course, but I will not let it consume my mind. I have other things to think about.
Warning: Thar be F-bombs ahead.
On a somewhat related side note, I would love/hate to see what my blood pressure was Friday after work, when I got handed a pile of time sheets to complete for 25 people most of whom I hadn't been working with...and had about one hour to do them (half that time in the car, some of that time necessarily spent in the shower, and the rest on the way to the work party), reading off other people's chicken scratch, and sort out which vineyards got charged how many hours. I don't think I said any word other than "FUCK" that whole time, and at one point, calling up my boss who handed me that lovely job to get me some white out for my cock-ups, my voice went up about an octave with each "FUCK". I think I got my point across when I told him he was the top of the "People I want to Stab" list.
So...I should say something about the glucose challenge test. For starters, I am not the least bit worried about failing (which may mean I will fail, so I duly purchased some salted caramel sauce for my ice cream tonight...just in case I can't eat it tomorrow). The drink was ice ice cold and clear and tasted like flat soda of some kind, but sweeter. I was told to drink it quickly. I pounded it like a frat boy at a party. I was hoping for a complement on my chugging skills, to which I was going to reply "you should see what I can do with a beer when I am not preggo", but no complements were forthcoming. Maybe because I didn't quite get it down in one (had to pause for a cold headache!). The sugar hit and man I felt hyper. Then I stuck my nose in a book and the calm zen like state settled in on me, and has lasted the past few hours.
Cleo just got caught in a sudden rain shower outside, and came racing in with a trill and leapt onto the couch next to me. Now she is wild as, attacking the couch. And stalking Toffs. Who is now stalking her. Oh the shenanigans!!