Posted by: cck | April 19, 2012


My blood pressure was 128/80 this morning.  And here I thought we’d have a repeat of my ah-mah-zing 107 from two weeks ago.  Not so my friends.  My fluctuating blood pressure has earned me weekly visits to the doctor, complete with a restful twenty minutes of fetal monitoring and a weekly ultrasound.  Yeah!

What?  Am I using sarcasm to cover up the screech of fear that’s crawling up my back?  Why, yes… Yes, I am.

Part of me is okay – I know my daughter is fine.  I’ve seen it.  I’ve heard it.  I have terribly aggressive doctors who are making sure I’m healthy, that she’s healthy, and are all about the monitoring.  K is keeping me company and making me laugh through it all.  I have insurance.  Why, then, am I so tense?

Because it’s my baby.  It’s my body.  And oh-holy-hell, I cannot be screwing up my daughter already.

The plus side of this – once a week I get 20 uninterrupted minutes with my daughter.  In a small, quiet room (with a recliner, no less) I hold a small joystick-like thing and mash it every time the baby moves.  It’s rare that I get to focus that much on one thing.  It’s just me and C^3.  It’s sort of lovely.

There’s no preclampsia.  I’m back on track size wise, despite two weeks of major weight gain.  My blood pressure isn’t bed-rest worthy.  I’m still going to Chicago next week, and I even have a doctor’s note with a smiley face.

What is it about writing that helps me lay all this tension down?  I dunno, but I feel a lot better already.


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