You know when you just have one of those days.
I can’t even remember what the problem was, but whatever happened made me very emotional when I watched David Ginola on Sky Sports Monday Night Football, as he reminisced about his days at Newcastle United.
Maybe it was just the tiredness. My fabulous mam and sister had thrown me a great baby shower the day before and the stuff we got from that was pretty overwhelming.
Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones making me super sentimental?
Or maybe it was because I was quite poorly, but just had no idea.
It was a Tuesday and I had a routine midwife appointment so was due to head to work afterwards. In my job we have two particularly busy times of the year, and I was in the midst of one of them so I knew I had a list as long as my arm to get through when I did get logged on after the appointment.
I still haven’t been back to work.
My midwife did all the usual checks and then towards the end of the appointment, as casual as you’d say ‘what you having for tea?’ said she needed me to go to hospital. In an equally casual response I asked ‘when?’
‘Now, I’m ringing them now to tell them you’re on the way.'
I sat back in the chair at her desk while she made the call and then she explained my blood pressure was high and there was protein in my wee.
Still I don’t think I thought there was anything really wrong. I felt totally fine.
She asked if I had any swelling anywhere, in my hands or feet?
The week before I’d had to buy a size bigger shoe than normal, so that was a yes!
Then me and the student in the room looked at my fingers, then looked back at each other in unified agreement that they were also probably a bit on the large side.
I had the rest of the day in the hospital with scans, blood tests and urine tests before being allowed home. I had to return in two days for more checks and have complete rest in between.
It was Thursday now and I was told tests would take an hour or so, so told my boss I’d be in about 11ish.
But there was a good six hour stint there while more bloods were taken. My appointment started on time at 10am, at it was about 4.30pm when I was told I was being admitted.
I remember it as clear as day. I knew I was being admitted because everyone in the unit could hear the discussion from the nurses work station, so we all knew each other’s situation, which wasn’t ideal!
When the midwife did come and speak to me she was very loud, and although I was on my own at that moment, I kind of wasn’t because again, everyone there knew what was happening.
I was being admitted with pre-eclampsia and it would be monitored daily by the doctors.
By this point I was crying, I didn’t want to be admitted to hospital, who does? The midwife did try to reassure me it would all be ok, but I didn’t really know what was going on.
Was it serious? Should I be worried? Is the baby ok?
I called my boyfriend and told him to bring an overnight bag with him and then I was taken to the ward, shown my bay and was given those god awful socks to wear.
I honestly thought I’d be in a day or two and be allowed home by the weekend. I thought the daily monitoring was to see when I could be discharged. At 32 weeks gestation, delivery wasn’t an option at all for me. And I don’t even think it was through denial or stubbornness or panic on my part. It was my lack of knowledge of pre-eclampsia and how serious it is. Along with the fact,
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