I'm closing in on Badger Cub's due date now: 1st February. I'm also rather near the 36 and a half weeks that signalled Baby Badger's arrival - that would be 5th January - this Saturday!
It's been a tough few weeks. Because of the speed of Baby Badger's arrival, I've been told that the slightest indication that labour is on its way and I should head to hospital. That has meant two rather boring five hour stints in the Maternity Assessment Unit, being prodded, poked, monitored and (eurgh) probed. It luckily turned out that the first time was unusually strong Braxton Hicks and second time wasn't actually a membrane rupture.
Scans and the various prodding keep confirming that Badger Cub is stubbornly breech, although they haven't confirmed the actual presentation. I'm trying not to worry about that - as long he's not foot first I have faith that I can deliver without too much issue. I'm guessing that I will, once again, be referred to the ECV clinic to attempt to turn him. My next midwife appointment is on Friday, so I'd be referred to next Tuesday's clinic. This is feeling all too familiar from Baby Badger's final week in the womb - she arrived three days before I was scheduled for ECV clinic. That again tallies with 5th January being the big day. Hardy conclusive, but I just keep getting the feeling that he's coming out soon...
As a result, I am categorically done with being messed with. I'm feeling rebellious; belligerent. My consultant has finally acknowledged that I'm borderline on the gestational diabetes scale; that I only just fall under the risks associated with the "condition". The developmental stage of this pregnancy is done, with the remaining time down to putting down body fat ready for birth. My blood sugars have not indicated raging issues so I'm not worried about Badger Cub producing excessive insulin. The scan I had a couple of weeks ago clearly shows he is bang on average size, so I obviously haven't had raging sugar levels before I started monitoring. Quite frankly, the monitoring of sugar levels was making me miserable, so I've stopped. I'm still eating a low GI diet and reluctantly avoiding cakes, chocolate and the nice things in life, but I refuse to stab my fingers.
I'm sure at some point they'll rant at me; tell me that it's against medical advice. I've done my research; I'm an intelligent, educated women, and it's my choice to make.
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