If you’ve been reading my previous blogs, you’ll know that my uterus had been measuring somewhat large for a small person and that as a result it was beginning to look like I was going to give birth to a colossus.  You will also know that I was rather dubious about the veracity of this assessment.  You may be interested to hear that I’ve been proven right, but not exactly in the way that I was expecting and with rather more of a panic than I would have hoped for.

I went in for my midwife appointment last Friday.  My urine was checked for blood and glucose and protein as usual and I was pleased to discover that it was free of any such oddities and was even complemented on being well hydrated, unlike most. My blood pressure was fine, actually a bit lower than it had been, I credit reading an amusing article by Sandi Toksvig on being short and how that doesn’t make you stupid just before I went in with my degree of chillaxment.  All was going well right up until they measured my uterus again.  You might be expecting me to say that it was even bigger than before and that I was made to take tests for diabetes but not so.  Suddenly my uterus was measuring spot on for me, but a whole two cm smaller than it had been at the previous appointment.

‘It was probably just a bad measure’ said the midwife as she called the hospital to schedule an ultrasound as soon as possible.  ‘Maybe you needed the loo last time, or all the heartburn you were suffering made you bloated’ said the trainee.  ‘Maybe the baby is trying to find it’s way downward ahead of engaging’.  The reassurances tend to sound a bit hollow when you’re being rushed in for a scan.  The rushing being the key point.  People don’t rush unless they’re anxious.  ‘The hospital will call you’ they said ‘if you don’t have an appointment today, it will be on Monday.  If it is on Monday, just keep an eye on the movements over the weekend’.  Keep an eye on the movements?  You mean more of an eye than we are already encouraged to keep?  A more ominous statement an expectant mother cannot hear.

I left the appointment feeling anxious and tearful and rang my husband.  ‘What do you need me to do?’ he asked.  I have no idea, I thought, the hospital could ask us to come in now in which case come home, fly like the wind, or they may ask us to come on Monday, in which case that will be a complete waste of your time.  The hospital rang,  that asked us to come in ASAP, I said I wasn’t sure when hubs could get home, they went quiet, then suggested three fifteen instead.  I rang Pete. He was in the car.  Pete rang the hospital and within the hour we were waiting for someone to fit us in for an ultrasound.

We waited for a while.  Several people picked up our file and put it down again.  We waited a bit longer.  Eventually a perfectly presented young blonde picked up our file and lead us off down a corridor to the ultrasound room furthest away from all the others.  At this stage it was possible for me to start reading ominous signs into everything.  She was friendly, but business like and clearly had me pegged as a hysterical woman.  The scan didn’t take long. She explained what she could but the further along you get, the harder it is know what you’re looking at or to find it endearing when you do.  There is too much baby for it all to fit into one shot.  A cross section of the baby’s skull or stomach is not one for the photo albums.

Once the perfectly presented blonde had understood that I was not simply a pointlessly hysterical woman but a ‘control freak’ (her words) who doesn’t take well to handing over control to someone else and not being in possession of all the facts, she warmed to me.  There was nothing wrong with the baby.  The baby had never been a giant and there was no reason to assume that there had been a dramatic change in circumstances.  The baby measured around the 50th percentile.  The amniotic fluid levels were exactly what you would expect.  The verdict was that the fundal measures were off.

Now rather than expecting a 10lb baby, we are expecting a far more comfortable 7.5lb baby.  All to the good. Even if I did gain a few extra grey hairs in finding my way to this discovery.

 

 

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