B-Day

Well that's decided then.

Yesterday we visited our Consultant for a 33 week discussion and scan and the matter of the delivery was discussed in detail. High on the agenda were the fibroids which had caused such a big problem in week 23. At that time, my wife had two fibroids, one so large that the Anomaly Scan had to be abandoned as the Sonographer could not see anything. In the ensuing few days, my wife suffered very severe pains which induced early contractions which were not Braxton-Hicks ones and as a consequence I rushed her to the Delivery Suite at Watford General where she spent a few days on muscle relaxants, including Progesterone which acts in this way also. A few days later, amid excruciating pain, the main fibroid outgrew its blood supply, known as Red Degeneration, and began to die off. The second fibroid remained.

On the scan yesterday, the second fibroid had changed and was now positioned directly above the baby's neck. The consultant was not sure if this would complicate the delivery. I have pointed this out ad nauseum - we have been trying for years for a baby and we are both no longer spring chickens and so the delivery of a healthy baby was utmost on our minds. Without hesitation we elected to go for a cesarian section and our consultant said, 'You have made the right decision'. It was a huge relief to know things would be taken care of and nothing will be left to chance - particularly in the presence of a second fibroid which was showing signs of change, as well as my wife's lingering issues surrounding endometriosis and the scar tissue left after several operations to attempt to curb or cure it.

Quick as a flash, our consultant called the Delivery Suite and he booked us in for a cesarian which he will perform himself on the NHS, and my wife will recuperate in the Knutsford Suite at Watford General (see earlier blog). The B-Day (not some french contraption to wash your nether regions but Birth Day) is set for 17 February and the only thing he didn't tell us was what time so that I could have breakfast or lunch or make sure there wasn't a golf game on - how inconsiderate!

We went away with real excitement. Having bought so much stuff over the weekend, my wife had spent Monday morning clearing space in the 'Nursery' and converting a section of my wardrobe into the baby's - I came home to find all my shirts moved and replaced by baby clothes hung neatly up and I had a lump in my throat. Now we have a stake in the ground in terms of the date and method of delivery even if it was not the preferred way. The fact is we are now galvanised around that date - I can book the time off with my client from almost to the hour. Where my shirts are, I have no idea.

The overnight bag is all prepared just in case, and last night the baby was turning cartwheels, having blinked and then poked its tongue out at us during the scan. Even though one of our dogs burnt her paw pads on the rough, icy ground yesterday morning and we had to take her for bandaging, even they sensed something was about to change forever.

We are going to have a baby, and we know exactly when and how.

One final note, as the consultant scanned the body of our little one, he alighted on the business area to show the gender. Quickly moving on, he asked us if we wanted to know. Having kept ambivalent on that point, I think we both agreed instantly that we would, if only to be able to take all the clothes back on exchange if need be. He scanned back and showed us all we needed to know.

Of course that will be our own little secret for now.