Today, at 41 weeks 3 days, I was admitted to hospital. They monitored the baby for 25 mins and baby obliged with lots of kicks. My little Star.
They’ve sent me home for a few hours which I’m using to add more beautiful music to my labour playlist.
We’re heading back in tonight to start the medication to induce.
A prostaglandin pessary.
I’ve left the young whippersnapper of a doctor in no doubt where I stand on induction and the hazards of syntocinon.
“First sign of foetal distress I want the baby out” I said. He assured me they’ll be keeping a very close eye on the baby and have a very low threshold for foetal distress. I think handing him my carefully printed out birth plan might have confirmed his suspicions I was a control freak but you have to be totally clear and up front from the start with the health professionals.
The only thing that’s starting to get on my nerves are my husbands friends and family who are constantly badgering him with “any news?” texts.
That phone of his is in serious danger of being flung out the hospital window tomorrow.
Cos that’s when all the fun begins…

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