As if my nights weren’t haunted enough by the hip and back pain and six trips to the bathroom, my sleep is now plagued by all the anxiety I have been experiencing these past two weeks. Two weeks ago I found out about the excess amniotic fluid situation going on in there (and by in there, I mean in my uterus along with the giant baby) and I have yet to see the OB about
it. Tomorrow is the day and I’m just so worried. Not only that, but last weekend was my first prenatal class and J ended up having to work. Needless to say I was the only sad sack in there whose partner hadn’t made it (although my lovely mama stood in for him -thanks Mama!). This has led to an irrational fear that for some reason he won’t make the actual birth either.
*Fact that is probably true, but that in reality I just made up now: The ability to become even more rational is not a pregnancy symptom*
So, due to all this stress, I had my very first labour and delivery dream, and well, it was actually quite the anxiety induced nightmare.
It began with me driving myself to my next prenatal class this Saturday, all alone without J or my mom, and somehow going into labour during the car trip. I was admitted as soon as I got to the hospital and tried to call everyone I know to no avail (another huge fear I have about going into labour alone). Ages went by and still no one was answering. The doctor came in to check me and upon examination declared that I was making no progress and that I needed an emergency c-section (hello too much stupid TLC show watching!). Ok fine, I know this happens from time to time (the c-section rate at my hospital is 20%), but what was so disconcerting was that he didn’t even give me a chance to react or try to call anyone again. He just whipped out a scalpel and cut a huge oval shaped gash in my left side (very much not how it happens). No drugs, no moving me to the OR, just some good ol’ slicin’ and dicin’. He then reached his arm into the wound and pulled out a baby girl!
Um, a girl? I have very clearly seen his boy bits during a 4D ultrasound, so I looked at the doctor and said, “That’s not my baby. I’m having a boy.” The doctor smirked and put the baby on me, but I just kept looking at her and feeling nothing because the baby I’d been connecting with for the last 9 months was supposed to be a boy! Try as I might, nada.
I then called J again and he answered this time. He’d gotten my message and was on his way to the hospital. I told him I’d already had the baby, and he said, “Oh. Ok then. Well, I’m really tired so I’m just going to turn around and head home.”
Needless to say, I woke up feeling a considerable amount of irrational rage towards my sleeping boyfriend.