We saw the obstetrician this morning and, as always, everything was peachy. My blood pressure is nice and normal, as are my iron levels (actually, for a pregnant woman they’re pretty good: the range is 0 to 50, and mine are at 27 – apparently, some pregnant women get as low as 7 or 8). And we got the results of my gestational diabetes test, which I passed with flying colours. Hooray!
We didn’t have a scan today, but we heard both babies’ heartbeats. They’re both still lying transverse, and as our boy, as the lead twin, has been breech or transverse all through the pregnancy, our caesarean might end up being less a choice and more a necessity.
We see the obstetrician again in two weeks, and then after that we switch to weekly appointments until the end. We’ll be there on Christmas Eve, and between Christmas and New Year (assuming, of course, that the babies haven’t already made an appearance).
Today’s obstetrician told us that, twenty years ago, women who were pregnant with twins were usually admitted to hospital for bed rest from 26 weeks (primarily because the mortality rates for early babies were so high, making it essential to prevent premature labour whenever possible). Knowing that makes me feel so lucky that the worst thing I have to complain about is having to park myself on my own sofa, in the comfort of our nice house, with lovely Tui to keep me company. Imagine being stuck in hospital for several weeks! That would be grim.