It hardly feels like a week since the great c-section stand-off, but I was dragged back in today for another check-up. My grumpy, hormonal mood was not improved by them only having 9am appointments left at short notice. Anyone who knows Glasgow, knows the hospital is 20 minutes away at any time other than rush hour when you need to count over an hour. Factor in the council's running low on salt and grit, the snow and freezing temperatures, the fact that this is everyone's second day back at work after Xmas, and the parking problems, I figured it could double to two hours, and we might still be late.
Yesterday I was so exhausted carrying around Baked that I slept half the day - not one of my usual tendencies, I have to say. I even forewent a photoshoot in fresh snow with blue skies simply because I couldn't move. Now that should worry anyone who knows me! I managed to fill the dishwasher once and do two of the school runs, nothing else.
So off we trundled in the dark having scraped the ice off the car at 7-40am only to find the motorway had been gritted and no bugger could be bothered with work. We got to the hospital in less than half an hour - an achievement which should have been impossible even on the sunniest August morning when everyone's kids are off school. Poor Pudge and Bits had been dumped sleepy and shellshocked on their equally sleepy, shellshocked grandparents before 8am.
The same midwife as last week shouted my name - oh no! Not another half hour caesarean battle? I wanted to cry, I was so tired. She did my check up and asked if I wanted a membrane sweep. Now there's an interesting verb... no one who has ever had a membrane sweep actually wants a membrane sweep. Given I have only had one once before and it hadn't worked (the baby had waited another 6 days), it took all my strength to agree. So there I was lying half naked with some woman I had been fighting last week patting and stroking my baby's head from the inside. Oh the dignity of pregnancy!
After that she asked if I'd like to book a hormonal induction for some time after the Queen Mum's shuts down on Wednesday next week. Hmmm, still no mention of the caesarean she was trying to sell me last week. It was curiously inconsistent that last week Baked was so big I needed an instant c-section but she was now trying to book me an induction for a date nearly two weeks after the due date when she was meant to measure 4.5kg. They don't even want to see me again before the 18th (unless I go into labour), by which time Baked will be 9 days bigger than the 4.5kg threatened, and that day they will start looking into booking an induction. Ho hum.
At this rate I might be the one sharing a birthday with Baked instead of Charlotte!