Horrible Itchy Disease

Woman in the last days of pregnancy is not a pretty sight.

I, for example, have just thrown up the sole thing I have eaten today-a fried egg sandwich-and after three hours sleep it's all I can do to move off the sofa in order to search the cupboards for stray crisps.  That is, if I can allow myself to eat anything at all, as I have also convinced myself that I have a terrible liver condition which is slowly poisoning the baby.

It all started last night.  I had been itchy, on and off, for quite a while, but last night's itching was on a whole new level.  My mother had kindly given up her bed and allowed me to sleep in her double while she suffered in the single bed which for reasons of storage has two mattresses and lives in "my" teenage bedroom, but it was all to no avail.  I tossed and turned, scratching away and peering at the internet on my phone in the darkness.  Unfortunately, Dr Internet's diagnosis was that I had something called obstetric cholestasis, and that my baby was going to die.  There was even an accompanying article from the Daily Mail about someone this had Really Happened To, to prove the point.  It took until 3.30am for me to finally get to sleep, only to awake at 6.30, just in time for me to confess my fears to Mother before she went to work.  Mother has now taken to addressing frequent stern grandmotherly rebukes to the baby within, urging him that it is "time to come out now and meet your grandmother."  I'm starting to think that's why he's staying in.  It was all I could do to point, sobbing, to the relevant section in What to Expect When You're Expecting and wail, "Mum, I have this.  And the baby is GOING TO DIE."

And what if the baby did die?  What would I do?  How would the news be shared on Facebook?  How would I go back to work and face all the puzzled teenagers wondering what I was doing there?  How would I put myself through it all again?  And some people actually have to do that.  It's too hideous to contemplate.

Anyway, I have spoken to the midwife this morning and they are going to do some tests today to establish if I do have This Horrible Itchy Disease.  Hopefully the results will be quick.  And at least the baby won't be premature.  Which is pretty much all I have to comfort myself with at this point, given that EVERYONE in my antenatal class (even the ones who weren't due until mid-August) has managed to miraculously pop out their babies already, leaving me as the bottom of the class loser who's a bit slow and holding everyone else up.  All I have to feel smug about is that hopefully, if my baby is born alive as planned, he will be so advanced that he'll probably walk straight out of the womb and off to university, and I'll never have to worry about getting the hang of breastfeeding, weaning or toilet training as he'll pretty much already be a fully formed adult.

I wish the Internet had never been invented.

GET THIS BABY OUT OF HERE!

Baby still not here and predictably I am going crazy checking the Internets every five minutes for flimsy "reassurance" (which is not very reassuring when sites about "stillbirth" come up).

My mother is going frantic and worrying, and people are ringing up every five minutes asking if I've had the baby yet.  Meanwhile every time I have a hint of lower back pain I start kneeling on the floor and rocking back and forth just in case the long-awaited moment has finally arrived.

The good news is I did at least do something productive today.  Yesterday I had my hopes up as I could feel the baby pushing down and I had very mild but persistent lower back pain (cue ridiculous trying out of all the labour positions from my antenatal class, pacing around the house incessantly and complaining about lack of sleep) but it turned out that this was all a folly, and nothing happened.  Not even the faintest whiff of a contraction.  Today I had an appointment to see the midwife for a sweep, which was nowhere near as bad as the Netmums forums would have one believe, but which the midwife didn't seem to hold out much hope of being successful, explaining that most first time mums needed several and she'd see me again next week for another one.

NEXT WEEK!  I don't think I can cope with another week of re-reading What to Expect When You're Expecting yet again.  Meanwhile, all but one of the other people from my antenatal class have now had their babies, despite the fact that I was due third (out of seven)  Admittedly I didn't want a premature baby, nor did I want an emergency C-section following all manner of terrifying complications, as some of them endured, but still, WHEN IS THIS BABY COMING OUT????

Baby seems to be keeping me waiting...

No, baby has still not arrived, and I am officially "overdue."

Cue prophetic warblings from my mother about how I am going to take after her and be ten days late, and mass hysteria on Netmums as I trawl through other people's appallingly written posts about how they have tried everything and baby still hasn't arrived, and is this normal?

I, for the record, have not tried everything.  I have not, for example, tried castor oil, which sounds both pointless and disgusting.  I have also not tried either "sex" or "nipple stimulation," even though these are slightly more amenable to me, purely because of lack of help in that department.  I mean, what am I supposed to do; put out a message on Facebook asking if anyone will take pity on me and sleep with me to get my labour going?  Anyway, surely if any of the multitude of other things that supposedly start labour-curry, pineapples-were in any way effective surely they would be used in hospital inductions.  One friend of mine has even quit eating pineapples for the duration of her pregnancy just in case it leads to premature labour.  I have defiantly continued to eat pineapples, in blatant disregard for the opinions of the good people of the Internet, with zero effect.

Anyway to cut a long story short, I am sat here wondering what to do with my life until the baby is born.  I feel as though I should be sat on a beach somewhere with a cocktail, enjoying my last days of freedom before I am forever tied down to a life of drudgery, but there aren't an awful lot of beaches around here, unless one counts the Severn Estuary where one is likely to disappear into the quicksand, and I'm pretty sure going on holiday when about to give birth is considered a bit of a no-no for insurance purposes.  Also the only cocktail I am likely to be drinking is a Virgin Mary, which kind of negates the point as surely one should be spending the Last Days of Freedom enjoying a life of wall to wall debauchery and hedonism, rather than self-sacrificing teetotalism.  Perhaps I should just spend all day sleeping, as this is something that will doubtless be in short supply over the next few months (years?  Oh God perish the thought.  What have I let myself in for?)

At least I will be able to drink again soon (assuming it IS soon).