What a weekend!
The plans were:
Adam in a summer house with the boys on Friday, chill, hang out, swim, barbecue.
I, home alone, homemade risotto for dinner, rent a film, cuddle.
Rice porridge for breakfast on Saturday (because I was tempted by those ready-made damn delish organic packets from Irma! Instant crave), and a wedding.
What we got:
A stay at Herlev from around noon on Friday, which lasted for about twenty four hours and included McDonald’s for dinner and Strictly Come Dancing in the hospital bed.
In effect, I really should stop planning anything in my adult life. Pretty much nothing goes as dictated by the calendar. On Friday morning, I had regular, pinching Braxton Hicks contractions but wasn’t quite in the mood to call the maternity ward, as I knew they’d urge me to come in for a ‘strip’ (they run the heart murmur and movements in the womb on a machine, which produces a strip of paper listing those pieces of information). I therefore called my own GP, but the midwife said that I had to go to the hospital. So, we went, and as I had sensed – a lot of stuff was going on. A very talented doctor said that we had to stay for observation, and then she went over everything with us. Breech birth (and if it were to have happened that weekend, we had been lucky, as one of Denmark’s experts in that field was on duty). High risk birth (but, you know, I’m not scared at all). Caesarean. Risk of compressed umbilical cord. Other than that, a perfect baby, ready to enter the world, perhaps in need of a bit of tube feeding. No reason to stop the birth if it were to have progressed.
Wauuuw. A baby for me! It was as if it caught me by surprise that that’s what’s waiting on the other side, haha! He has to come out. To me! To us! I know that a pregnancy most often leads to a child, but this is when that concept finally kicked in on a practical level. I’ve painted pictures in my mind of the birth, how I wanted it to happen with aroma therapy, a tub on the 2nd floor, my mother in the kitchen baking birthday rolls. And then painted it over again; hospital, poor chance of him turning around (he’s positioned too low, with such a small rump, for there to be a ‘handle’ with which to turn him around), possible c-section. But he’s the reward – yes! That makes everything good.
I’ve surprised myself by being so cool around it all, no matter how often someone mentioned the word ‘risk,’ haha! ‘OKAY! He might come this weekend; then that’s how it is!’ I feel totally fine about the process. I obviously didn’t get to pack that hospital bag I’d had in mind, but was allowed, ‘at my own risk,’ to go home and pack, ‘and if the water breaks, you come straight back in!’ I felt totally calm as they broke the news about the risks, the breech birth, the c-section, the tube feeding and everything else (perhaps due to all of my prepping? Nothing can frighten me). Adam, on the other hand, turned quiet and felt rather panicky. ‘We’re so far from ready.’ ‘The house looks like shit.’
Most of all, I found it all very entertaining – not Adam and his discomfort around the situation. But the thought of how we’re planning a thousand things. Organic home birth, chili plasters, web-browsing birth tubs. And then we end up with a breech birth or a c-section in the hospital (but I’ve still packed chili plasters in that bag – home birth in the hospital; we’ll see if it’s possible). And not necessarily when we decide to do it, but when he feels like it. I already sense so much personality in his, ‘I don’t give a damn about that.’ That’s wonderful. What can you do? Other than go with his flow.
dress SECOND FEMALE (gifted) shoes MARNI (old) bag GANNI
Yet, everything quieted down yesterday and we were discharged. He, the best breech birth doctor in the country (haha!) was mega cool. Before we left, we talked it all over. He offered an estimate of about another two-three weeks, but I know that’s just words. The baby’s weight will be around 3,100-3,200 g in a few weeks, which isn’t much, but it’s perfect for a breech birth. Good. He’ll enter the world whenever he’s ready, and then we’ll take it from there. He’s gotta come out, you know!
We hurried back home, I took a shower, and then we went to the wedding. Trine and my dear old P3 colleague (and mentor) Nicholas got hitched. So, from slippers and hospital-greasy hair to makeup and a nice dress – we didn’t make it in time for the ceremony, but we enjoyed around 30 minutes of the reception. Enough to see and greet the beautiful couple. We didn’t attend the party, though. Gotta be a bit sensible – so, yay, adult night; elevation bed, the film Summer of ’92 on TV2 and pick ‘n’ mix sweets. NOW, I’m an adult (do you remember when we discussed that?). And that’s a good, good feeling.
And then you can follow it all on social media. Almost as good as being there yourself. Am I the only one who LOVES ‘stalking’ weddings on insta? Haha! I always check out all of the hashtags and watch some story, if friends of mine are attending a wedding. Even if I don’t know the newly weds. Weddings, damn it, the magic is endless!
Have the best Sunday – we’re spending it tidying up the house that Adam says is a mess. Because tomorrow, well, we may not get a baby, but the next best thing will be delivered, haha! A sofa!! That only took around three-four months. Yaaayy!!