Week 32

And we have still done very little more in baby land. Bedroom… Still not decorated, furniture… Still in boxes.  I have an increasing pile of baby stuff in a basket that just looks a total mess and I’ve cancelled my whooping cough jab twice. Poor old neglected baby.

I found out (pretty much by accident) that i could go up the road to my doctors surgery for midwife appointments rather than schlepping to the other side of town, and so my 31 weeker (well technically 31 and 6 days) was to take place there, conveniently with the same midwife I’d seen at my 28 week appointment- finally, i might get to see the same person twice in a row

It wasn’t to be! In the intervening weeks the rota had changed and a different person was doing Fridays at my doctors.  Not to matter, she was very nice and all was well until i got my measurements done.  ‘You’re tiny! ‘ shrieked she. Not feeling particularly phased, as the general public have been saying that for the last 8 weeks or so i let her go about her measurement business (which always seems to involve poking you in the pubic bone with a tape measure and pressing down really hard) and she concluded i was measuring ‘small for dates’. For those not in the know the measurement of your bump should be the same in centimetres as the amount of weeks pregnant you are.  In my case, 32 weeks should have equaled 32cm and at every other appointment is been bang on target but this time i had managed to shrink- 27cm! 5 weeks behind schedule!

Again i carried on being a bit blasé – i know the measurements are a notoriously inaccurate predictor as a one-off but the midwife lady got on the phone and posted me off for an immediate growth scan.  Which is when i could feel myself starting to panic a bit.

I called Mark and filled him in, keeping my nonchalant head on and spent the next two hours reasoning with myself- movements… check, I’d heard a heart beat with the midwife… and this measurement stuff was always wrong, this was all to be on the safe side and the likelihood was all was well but my irrational sense of aaaarrrrgggh kept escaping, mainly in the form of ‘well why are they whipping me in for an emergency scan if it’s just routine? Surely I’d just be booked in for one next week when they can fit me in properly rather than throwing out their schedule?’

Two hours later (exemplary service from the nhs i must say) and following a bit of a wait to see the consultant, everyone agreed everything was fine and i was free to go about my business (which mainly involved trying to sort out a site visit that i was meant to be going on in Manchester) and a sense of ‘phew, i knew i was being ridiculous for panicking even a little bit’ returned.

This has been the first time that I’ve had anything other than congratulations for being pretty much brilliant at being pregnant and I’ll be honest, I’m not really a fan.  I’m feeling ridiculously grateful that this is the only blip I’ve had to face so far and am now bricking it a little bit that more stuff might go wrong.  Must keep a lid on that!

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