Markers

Monday 2 February

Another milestone today – 34 weeks. Baby has obligingly turned head down (confirmed by scan today, although it seemed to be the consensus of most, but not all, of the many people who have palpated me recently).

My day is marked by the scheduled events of the day. Today's menu: two CTGs, blood test, scan. Eight hourly drugs, and seemingly random, but frequent observations of my temperature, pulse and blood pressure. And the meals of course. Lunch was the scene of drama with the Cold Chicken with Mayonnaise Wrap incident (where cold chicken managed to inveigle its way onto the “low listeria” vegetarian side of the menu). This was partly made up for by a rather large piece of chocolate cake. Dinner has just finished. Already I am anticipating breakfast.

(Incidentally, the “low listeria” menu has always made me chuckle. Should we presume then that there is a contrasting high listeria option? Or, more worringly still, should we feel certain that our food does contain listeria, rather than merely the risks of its presence is low?).

Another room mate has just been discharged: very good news for her, and hopefully she will be able to continue the rest of her pregnancy in relative normality. I expect that the bed will be filled again by the morning.

I have escaped from the ward a couple of times today – a quick waddle to the cafe for a newspaper, an aimless trudge around the building when I just couldn't take overhearing anyone else's medical problems any more, and a couple of sits in the chairs outside of the ward. Chairs are hard to come by sometimes, and there's only so many hours that you can sit on a bed.

Institutionalised

Sunday 1 February

Being (relatively) long stay in a hospital has given me a terrible look as to what it must be like for some people to be in a rest home. I have turned into a grumpy old man, the highlight of his day being the prospect of lamb boil-up for dinner. The rhythms of the day involve the procession of meals, drugs, and other people's visitors.

The good news is, I am still here. We reach the milestone of 34 weeks tomorrow. And by making it as far as today, we have a February baby. I am stable and baby has kindly turned head downwards rather than lying in the less stable and suboptimal footling breech position.

Orla has grown up already in my absence. Last night I heard the lovely call of “can't catch me!” echoing down the corridor towards my room. In she came, to tell me “I wear big girl pants”, showing me her trainers. Aidan has a two-wheeler bike – he can now ride alongside his sister and friend. Isabelle seems quiet, the school year just around the corner.

I am touched that, reportedly, the cat is missing me.

33 +3

Day three of incarceration. Another day on the inside is good.

My waters broke on Monday afternoon at 33 weeks. To the hospital. Bloods, ultrasound, IV antibiotics, course of steriods, swab. More bloods. Twice daily CTGs. Oral antibiotics. See midwives, junior junior doctor, senior junior doctor, consultant, ward doctor, social worker, lactation consultant, anaesthetist, still to see the paeds. I am now here for the duration, hoping to get an extra two weeks of growth and maturity before the inevitable premature delivery.

I am in a four-bed unit in the old women's hospital – everyone moves over to the brand new one in a couple of weeks. I may or may not be part of that move. Being in a four-bed unit is not ideal, but the ward is chocka full, and it is better that those who are fresh from theatre or who are learning to breastfeed have the single and double rooms. It is also not ideal that the ante and post-natal wards are one and the same place. It is not the crying of the healthy, full-term newborns around me that is upsetting, just the reminder of what I cannot share. It was especially hard to share the room with two newborns – luckily only for one day until other places were found.

I've had a procession of room mates. Some are quiet. Some have cell phones that ring at twenty to seven in the morning, and lap tops to watch movies with at 10.00 at night (sans headphones). Some have extended families around for picnic lunches around the bed. Some are bright and breezy. Others are troubled, anguished, facing hard times. Mostly just ordinary people together briefly by circumstance.

I am being well looked after – monitored fairly closely, but it does pay to be a squeaky wheel if you want anything. The demands on the staff seem fairly large – there are a lot of people on the ward all with different issues and it would be very easy for something to slip through.

The children seem to be coping well with the support of family and friends. It's too hard to think about them too much.

I am trying to find the balance between not thinking or worrying about what I cannot change, and making reasonable plans for various possible outcomes. I am trying to not even think too much about the time to come in neonates. Trying to skip forward however number of weeks I need to skip forward until we are all home.

Yoga

I have been attempting to do a few yoga poses/stretches in an attempt to deal to my painful hips. This is almost impossible to do around children - as soon as I rolled out my mat yesterday, there were four of us sitting on it! The children copied my every move, which was a bit funny, especially if I did anything with my arms above my head - Orla's (and to some extent Aidan's) limbs are just a bit too short to do much in that direction! But they were surprisingly attentive and persistant with their efforts. When I tried to do anything lying down, Orla took that as an invitation to assume the feeding position. She was also intent on stealing any cushions I placed under various body parts for support and sat on them with her nudey butt (note to self - do not use lounge cushions as pillows).

Baby has now moved head down, so that has made things a bit more comfortable. I feel that I am getting very large (still measuring slightly big for dates).

So, the only real cure for the sore hips will be giving birth, which is still some time away. In the meantime, I will satisfy myself with taking "yoga for children" during the day.

Schema decorations

Today we went to Kirks, saw Father Christmas and bought some christmas decorations.

So we have a new christmas photo on the wall. Isabelle and Aidan smile sweetly. I am there holding Orla, very red faced (as if I have imbibed some christmas cheer!). So I guess technically Floyd the fourth is there too. Orla looks grumpily off to one side, in keeping with our fine tradition of two-year- old christmas photos!

Rotational-schema Isabelle chose a round, golden wreath for the tree.

Trajetory-schema Aidan chose a bronze butterfly, which he whooooooshed through the air and around the room before it alighted on the tree.

Broadly speaking (part two)

I am feeling Great With Child at the moment.

I am only 22 weeks tomorrow but I have really bulged out in the last few weeks. Here is a photo taken minutes ago in the half-light of our lounge. I'm kneeling on the chair and leaning back a little, but definitely a belly thing going on there!

Not into maternity clothes yet, but these trousers (which have a relatively tight waist) will be put away as from tomorrow.

I have never been this big so soon before - but I guess you get that when you are onto your fourth and don't exercise....