I haven't been posting much besides fluff for the past several weeks because, truth be told, I haven't been in a very good head space lately and I haven't been wanting to write about it. Between pregnancy hormones making me increasingly.... shall I say, emotionally unstable, being chronically tired and sleep deprived, and the intolerable three-ness of SchmoopyBoy's behavior lately, I've been having a lot of not so great days. (Don't know what I'm talking about by intolerable three-ness? Check out the warnings left by Liz of Mom-101, then again by Annie of PhD in Parenting, and then again fairly recently by Dionna of Code Name: Mama. Intolerable three-ness, yes we are there. There's a whole post coming just on that alone, I'm sure.)
But again, I digress. What I am getting around to writing about in a very meandering and procrastinating way is the risk status of my current pregnancy and why this is turning out to be yet another not-so-great day, in which I indulge in all kinds of whining, venting and self indulgent miserating.
So yesterday we went to interview a prospective doula. My previous doula team was completely awesome and fantastic and I would totally be all over hiring either one of them again. One is now a practicing midwife, and the other is pursuing her D.O. in plans of opening a birthing center in this city. Fantastic for them, unfortunate for me. But, there are other talented doulas in the sea and I'm in the process of finding the right person for this time around. Anyway, we were talking to this doula yesterday, who is also currently in training to be a midwife. I told her about my history with PIH and pre-eclampsia and how SchmoopyBoy's birth was induced at 39 weeks because my liver started malfunctioning. She asked me how this pregnancy was going and asked if I was interested in having her check my blood pressure. I agreed, expecting it to be fine, the way its been throughout this pregnancy so far. Well, wouldn't you know it, lo and behold it was high. Like, not good high. I thought maybe I'm just a little anxious, meeting a new prospective doula, being in a overall general funk, a little stressed about this, that and another thing.
This morning I had my appointment with my OB. My blood pressure was high again. The nurse took it once, and the doctor took it himself two more times just to make sure. It was high. So now I'm back on blood pressure medication and I've been instructed to monitor my blood pressure 3 times a day and keep a log. I'm also to go back to the doctor's office in a week to see if the medication is helping, and, I'm to go directly to the Labor and Delivery section of the hospital for treatment instead of the ER if I get any severe headaches, see black spots, or start to feel really bad. (Not for delivery at 24 weeks, thank goodness, but for treatment because I'll get it immediately instead of waiting in an ER waiting room for hours and they'll know exactly what treatment to administer and be able to contact my OB immediately.)
Needless to say, I'm not happy about this development.
Sheesh, what the heck do I have to do to have one healthy, normal pregnancy that concludes with a natural labor birthing a healthy baby?!
I was really, really hoping for a natural labor this time around. I so want to experience a completely non-medicated birth. Getting induced really sucked. I got through it without any pain medication, and good heavens, it sucked so hard I won't even get into it here. Maybe another time, but not now. I still am hoping for a natural labor, but given this new development, I feel deflated and defeated. This is my fifth and last pregnancy, hopefully to conclude with my second and last child. I am done after this and I just wanted so much to have a single "normal, healthy" pregnancy. How disappointing. I am incredibly grateful to have one fabulous healthy child, and will be even more grateful if this pregnancy ends with another healthy child. I'm just disappointed I can't seem to be able to enjoy the process more.