Pregnancy has turned me into a hypochondriac.

For the past two days I have been genuinely ill – caught a dreaded cold off Rufus, which then snowballed into my old friend the migraine, and then my new friend, serial vomiting. I ate toast with peanut butter and a few baked potatoes throughout, depriving the bubba of much-needed vitamins.

And all that time I was really worried that I might be developing pre-eclampsia or something awful. Apparently the symptoms are: suddenly puffy hands and feet (nop), severe headache (yes), affected vision (yes but that’s normal for migraines as well), high blood pressure (not normally, but how cna u know without a test?). It looms large in my imagination because I watched a very sad episode of Call the Midwife not so long ago in which a woman skipped her urine test and then died the next day after sudden eclampsia attack. DIED. I am 29 weeks now and my doctor has checked my urine twice. Our next visit is in three weeks and I’m sure I read somewhere that visits should be more frequent by now.

Fortunately, Lola has been poking about a lot inside, which is reassuring. I think she might even have discovered somersaulting. Last night she gave Rufus a good kick in the kidneys, which was pretty funny. Rufus has developed a belly button fixation, insisting it’s his conduit for taling to Lola. He also likes to check its depth – it’s still an innie, but getting shallower! I started out defending the belly button zone but have had to surrender.

Some friends on twitter have been having a really, really rough time this week, which makes my heart clench up. Life is so unfair, and when I think how much the infertility community on Twitter and WordPress have helped me in the past few years, I wish I could somehow magic away my friends’ problems or offer them more than some words of comfort from afar. At the risk of sounding like a complete hypocrite – as I am an extremely lapsed Catholic, agnostic type – I do pray for them at night.



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