Pain’s a bastard, right? Because it normally goes hand-in-hand with exhaustion, which means it’s friends with helplessness, and comes with a small side dish of panic.
Dr Spock sent me off to hospital.
After visiting her for my normal weekly check up on Monday, and my last post on Tuesday, the ‘roids got worse and worse. So much worse in fact, that I was doubled over sobbing by Thursday – at which point Mr Bun gently asked, why didn’t I try Dr Spock again?
On hearing how I was going (badly, would be an understatement) she asked me to come in and bring my overnight bag. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that. What she explained was, if you’re in so much pain you can’t sleep, then you become exhausted and can’t heal … so you need to break the cycle by getting some proper pain medication.
So I ended up in the maternity ward for two nights, getting some rest and a little relief. It was pretty strange being there, surrounded by the cries of very-newborn babes. The midwives were all – mostly – lovely. Many asked ‘does this mean you’ll have a c-section then?’ When I raised this with Dr Spock she rolled her eyes. ‘Absolutely not’, she scoffed, ‘you should treat this as totally separate from your labour. This will get better – you’re just taking a little longer than most.’
I’m not sure if I believe her, but it made me feel a little better.
I really wanted out of there by the third day. Dr Spock wasn’t on call this weekend, so her backup Dr Bark came in to see me before I could be discharged. Well. She was a barrel of laughs. Basically told me the pain relief Dr Spock had prescribed me was ‘wrong’ because it would constipate me and make the problem worse. When I told her I was still in extreme amounts of pain she looked at me blankly. ‘Well – it’s your decision.’ How’s that for bedside manner? We can only hope she doesn’t end up overseeing our delivery …
So, I’m home, and still feeling pretty rotten. I am trying to stay away from the heavy-duty drugs, but the pain’s still bad enough at night to have me crying and feeling faint. I feel pretty hopeless. I’m weak, tired, very sore and certainly not exuding the rested, strong, at-peace, hippie-love pregnant vibe I was expecting at 38 weeks.
I trust my doctor. She says this will get better soon. My baby is moving around like a trooper and our house is ready for his or her arrival. Mr Bun is doing everything while I slide between bed and couch, and I have a cracking support team scattered around giving me lots of love. Need to focus on the positives and hope that this, too, shall pass.