Sweep

No baby yet at 40 weeks +3. If there is no sign of action, then the next stage is a 'sweep.' The midwife described giving a sweep as "basically, sticking my fingers up and fiddling about a bit." (I paraphrase here for brevity, you understand.)

Pic from the bizarrely good http://www.toonhound.com/sooty.htm, where Sweep is very much second fiddle to the more glamorous (and paradoxically much yellower) Sooty.

PS Checkout http://www.toonhound.com/aboutme.htm for toonhound's claim to fame.

Almost an armful

Midwife again this morning, a very competent woman called Sarah, her second visit to us. She gave the baby a right old poking about, saying it has long limbs. How on earth can she tell? I can hardly tell its bonce from its bum - mind you, the same applies to me, more or less.

Curiously, she asked if PP has had itchy feet or palms, and the answer is Yes. In fact, I even wondered if PP had athlete's foot she was scratching so much! Something to do with liver function, which, even more odderer, PP had been speaking about. This prompted a vial of blood to be drawn. Almost an armful.

Knit-your-own-yogurts

During a recent visit, a midwife said that it is illegal to give birth in the UK without a midwife present. Excepting accidentally early deliveries in the backs of cabs, this puts the kibosh on knit-your-own-yogurts and ferals in the West Country wanting to pursue "freebirth." Or is it a closed shop on midwifery? And if a midwife delivers her own baby, is it legal?

Being stitched up

If you thought male circumcision was bad, wait until you learn about episiotomies.

And what about the timing? Just at the wrong moment, the woman might be asked if she wants someone to cut the bit that glues her vagina to her rectum, to let the baby out. Even on a good day, the answer has got to be a big No. On the other hand, ripping open like a soggy paper bag is not too great either. Good grief; it's a no-win situation. Or possibly Catch-22.

Some years ago, a friend had an episiotomy on the birth of her son. After the birth as she was being stitched up, the midwife turned to her husband and asked "If it was about right." Some questions have no answers.

I found a pic of an episiotomy, and decided against including it...

Bedside mannerisms

Maternity ward visit this morning, led by a relaxed and friendly midwife (Eileath, I think). She started her pitch by saying something like "Welcome to the scariest place in the world." Bedside manner not her strong point.

For me, the tour was about orientation: which floor of the hospital wing, where the rooms are and the high-dependency units are, what the machines do and the permissible visiting times.

For her, it's all about the anxiety, the unknown, dealing with the emotions. Is it friendly, are the staff good, How Will It Be?

The midwife finished the tour by speaking about pain management: "You won't know what's hit you." She might work on that bedside manner a little...

Breech is definitely Bad

Another midwife appointment this morning, and Boy Oh Boy! Does she know what's what when it comes to heaving the baby about!

As part of the checkup, the midwife wanted to check on the baby's position in the womb (cue for a series of pretend-Latin names to make it all sound very medical). Roughly speaking, Head Down is Good, other ways are Not Good, and Breech is definitely Bad. I was a breech baby.

To find out what's going on, the midwife gave the bump the most massive stirring. No messing, both hands and give it some body weight massage.

Toblet(te) is the right way up: ie, down.

Rather you than me

For a midwife appointment this morning, Priti had been asked to take a pee sample. As she pointed out later, peeing into a small plastic phial is tricky at the best of times. When you have 23 weeks of bump in the way, it's an almost impossible proposition. She managed to present a one-thirds full sample bottle. Filling it involve lots of hit and miss, aptly enough, and is a messy business.

I thought "Rather you than me." In a few weeks' time, it might well be the other way round. Now there's thought.

Picture from http://www.emsdiasum.com/microscopy/products/preparation/beakers.aspx?mm=8

As you were, as you were

OK, set the scene: total panic because the baby has not kicked since yesterday morning. And, in a magnificent display of indecision, we did not go to the hospital in the evening, and instead persuaded ourselves that if there were no kicks this morning, we would call the hospital first thing.

Sure enough, we did not sleep a wink all night. Panic is a marvellous insomniac.

First thing today we called the midwife team. Our assigned midwife gives a mobile number, which she turns on from 7.30am until (from memory) 5.30pm. Except that she does not work every day, reasonably enough, and the voicemail message does not say if the mobile is off because she is busy, or off because she has the day off.

Switch to plan B: call the hospital midwife team, from 8.00am. After calling and calling and calling, they answer and say "Drink a glass of water and come in," which Priti understands to be the equivalent of "calm down dear."

We go to St George's.

The midwife there, Carlene, is *excellent* and explains that "drink a glass of water" actually meant "drink a glass of water," as this should wake the baby - and it might kick.

Instead, Carlene found the baby's heartbeat, we were immediately happy, and - guess what? Yup, Toblet The Bump starts kicking like Eric Cantona.

Little bugger.

Panic over, as you were, as you were

Tricorder readings: baby's heartbeat at 155 bpm

Another visit to the midwife, and, amazingly, another opportunity to hear the Alien Heartbeat!

The midwife completed her run-through of blood test results, urine sample (we brought one along) and blood pressure check - and then offered the chance to listen to the heartbeat.

She fished out what I can best describe as a Tricorder, with a doohickey shaped like a pestle attached by a long curly cable. After smearing the end of the doohickey with gel and poking about a bit, we heard a 155 beat per minute heartbeat, loud and clear. Amazing!

The Tricorder was the same basic device as the kit used by the GP. The midwife was waaaay quicker than the GP in finding the right spot to hear the heart. Practice, I guess.

Incidentally, none of the books mentioned that we would get to hear the heart this time around. Maybe it's non-standard, or perhaps the books are slightly out of date.

If you are given the chance, grab it!

http://www.startrek.com/startrek/view/library/technology/article/70294.html

It's all beginning to dawn on me

After a restful day, we spent some time reading each other the "Fifteen weeks" chapters of several different pregancy guides. Depending on which book you read, the baby is variously 8, 9 and 10cm long by now - I think of it as laboratory mouse size. Reckoned it wise not to share the thought. She may experience 'fluttering,' the early signs of kicking.

It's all pretty fascinating at this point. She sleeps badly, is occasionally sick, is starting to enjoy the pregancy, and her appetite is returning. Mood swings are caused principally by her getting utterly shagged out, and leaving it too late to grab food or rest. There is another midwife check coming up (blood tests for diabetes and some other stuff), and that's about it.

Considering that the baby currently weighs around 30g, about a fag-packet-size lump of butter, and in six months might weigh more than one hundred times more (yup, honest), it's frankly not bloody surprising that she's tired, irritable, knackered, volatile, sick, stressed, alarmed, confused... Apparently her heart is already pumping some 40 per cent (two-fifths in old money) more blood. That's like me walking up the stairs. Once.

And then at the end of it, the poor bugger has to squeeze the whole shebang out of ... well, you get the drift. It's all beginning to dawn on me.

Spotting: MAJOR stress factor all round

First scare this afternoon... At around 3pm, she notices some spotting - blood to you and me, mate - and calls me right away. Heartstopper.

The good news is that all is OK. We went to the GP, he did a quick kind of hand-held scan job that allows you to hear the baby's heartbeat, and we heard it rattling away at 160 beats per minute.

It took the doc a bit of poking about with the electronic stethoscope to find the hearbeat, mind you, and at the end of it my heart rate was waaaay above 160, never mind the nipper. I think wifey's heart had stopped - or at least, all the blood had diverted to her crushing grip on my hand. I can hardly type, and the shy lover's friend may take a while to recover...

When it came to calling for help, when she first saw the blood: shit and corruption. There I am stuck at work, she cannot get hold of the midwife, and we cannot find the numbers for the hospital departments.

The midwifery number we were given to call is not attended during the afternoon. We were not told that. It was on answerphone. The assigned midwife turns her mobile off when she is not on shift (fair enough). There is no deputy's number on her voicemail. Rising panic? You bet.

Four hours after we called the midwifery department, and after we had separately made a GP appointment, a midwife called back. When we quizzed her about which number to call in future, she was not at all clear. Nor would she take action. Or suggest a course of action. She was not even sure if we came under midwifery, obstetrics, maternity or geriatrics. I'd have settled for dentistry at that point.

Anyway, MAJOR stress factor all round. The main thing is, all seems OK. Phew. Probably the Chalfonts, which is a common affliction in mid-term pregnancy.

Lessons to self: (1) keep the midwife's land and mobile number handy, (2) find out about alternative numbers to call.

And if that was all a scary one for me, imagine what it was like for wifey.

PS Just found this on the web:

Author: Adam Hunt
Imprint: Random House Australia
Price: $16.95
Subject: Family/Pregnancy
Format: Paperback
Release: 1-07-2003