I’ve thought many times that, when it comes to pregnancy, no one seems to be able to agree on anything.

After being told that I had to take iron tablets by the surgery, I have since been told that I don’t need to take iron tablets by the midwife.  Apparently I dropped from 11.8 to 11.4, and that’s not at all unusual for pregnancy.  I can’t say I’m complaining at this point.  As much as I may have felt that the iron lifted my spirits to begin with, it may also have been to blame for my increasingly challenging heartburn.  Every few days I would try something new to ease my discomfort and nausea and, after an initial euphoric success, I would find myself slipping back into the abyss.  I’ve been off the iron since Friday, the heartburn has been present but manageable ever since.  A triumph for midwifery over doctoring in my opinion.

The iron dilemma is only part of the reason why I am currently bewildered.  It seems that even though my fundal measures are near to text book, a perfect 28cm at 28 weeks followed by a slightly elevated 32cm at 31 weeks, my fundal chart has me on schedule to birth a hephalump, well over the 90th percentile.   It’s jolly hard to find an explanation for this in any of the literature I find on line.  The nearest that I have come to enlightenment is a reference to personalised fundal measures on the basis of body size following studies on the impact of ethnicity on uterine measures and ultimate birthweight.

It seems that because I am short, my fundal measures have been predicted to be lower than the average.   So far so logical.  I understand that South East Asian women, who tend to be smaller than European women, also tend to have smaller uteruses (uteri?) and so would be rushed off for further scans based on lagging development when, in fact, there was nothing wrong with them and that potentially problematic accelerated growth would be ignored.  The bit I don’t understand is how it makes sense that in my short person extra small uterus, I should manage somehow to gestate an average sized baby.  From what I understand, these same South East Asian women would often be kept needlessly in hospital with their babies because their babies were deemed small too.

So here it is, I should be gestating an average baby in a small uterus, presumably with some living space issues, but I’m not.  I have an average uterus and so obviously my average uterus is housing a colossus with similar living space issues.   Fortunately my midwife is not currently concerned and, I have to say that, I think she’s making a good call.  My instinct is that I am gestating an average sized baby in an average sized uterus.  I think there’s logic to that argument, not to mention precedent.  We were a tiny bit over the 50th percentile at 20 weeks and I see no reason to assume that everything has changed.

I’m rather pleased to say that I am not, at this stage, particularly concerned about having a giant baby. I am concerned about being ripped in half in a normal, first time mother sort of way but I’m not worried that my baby will come out almost as big as me.  Given my usual tendency to worry overmuch, I consider that a triumph on its own.  That is not to say that the path to not be concerned overmuch, hasn’t been a tangled and winding one.  Pregnancy is very confusing.

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