Back in January, J left the visual effects company he co-founded eight years ago and decided to start freelancing. He set up shop in an office downtown, not too far from our condo.

Oliver started part-time daycare in February. While the adjustment has been painfully slow (two months ago I was ready to pull him out of daycare altogether and just pay for babysitting), he seems to finally be settling in and — dare I say — enjoying himself.

I am starting to work on some interesting blog-related projects: guest posts, blog carnival entries, media interviews, and even some article submissions for parenting magazines and websites!

I have also very recently made the decision to take a leave of absence from my part-time work with the military. With freedom from my employment obligations and 10 hours a week of Oliver-free time on my hands, it’s time for me to re-visit something I’ve been dreaming about for several years.

In the fall of 2010, I was accepted into a government sponsored program that helps aspiring entrepreneurs turn their ideas into viable businesses. I was two months into an intensive planning process for a 6000 square foot tactical (military/police/fire) fitness facility when I found out I was pregnant with Oliver.

A photo shoot for my gym website, two days prior to finding out I was pregnant!

At the time, I believed that if I could get my business up and running before Oliver’s birth, I could manage to be both a new entrepreneur and a new mom. Fortunately, some very wise family and friends convinced me that given the scope and complexity of my gym plans, it would be difficult — if not impossible — to manage both new “babies” at the same time.

They were right. I never imagined how busy and chaotic the first year of Oliver’s life would be. But now, as Oliver approaches his first birthday, I am ready to dust off my business plan and carry on, albeit with a different and much smaller scale version of the original concept.

However, the window of opportunity to pursue my dream is closing quickly.

The start-up costs are going to be big. They’ll be a fraction of the projected costs of the tactical fitness facility, but daunting, nonetheless. We are in a unique position where our current finances will allow for such an investment. This may not be the case in a year’s time.

Knowing what I know now about raising a baby, there is no way I’d be able to get this business off the ground with two little ones in the picture, so if the gym is to become a reality, it needs to be running smoothly — and earning money — before we consider expanding our family.

For the next few months, daycare days (after all requisite housework is done) are going to be devoted to the re-working of my business plan; to determining the feasibility and profitability of the venture.

I have an idea that I think can work in this city. It’s something that isn’t currently being done, and something for which I believe there is a growing demand. But it’s going to take a lot of careful research to determine whether the idea can be truly profitable, given the high cost of operating in Vancouver (because, let’s face it, I’m not going to be pouring my heart and soul — and our family’s finances — into a non-profit venture!).

I’ve set a deadline of October for “go or no-go.” If its a “go,” the fall is going to be a very busy time. Contingent on finding a suitable location (which involves navigating the City’s labyrinthine business zoning bylaws), I’d like to be up and running at the start of the new year.

I hope you will all join me on this new and exciting journey.

Six months old already!

February 9th marked one year since the inception of this blog. Can you believe how quickly time has flown?! This time last year, I had just passed 15 weeks gestation and was lamenting my lack of baby belly; now, I have a six-month-old and am thrilled by my lack of baby belly.

To celebrate this milestone, I am going to recap my 10 most memorable moments from the blog’s first year.

10. Coming up with a comprehensive list of CrossFit modifications early on in the pregnancy… and then being astonished to find that I could still do most movements and workouts without modification well into the third trimester.

9. Busting two very pervasive pregnancy myths: “no heavy lifting” and “don’t let your heart rate go above 140 beats per minute.” I was especially shocked to discover that the heart rate myth is still being perpetuated by fitness and medical professionals, despite the fact that the recommendation was publicly rescinded 10 years ago by one of the doctors who originally developed it.

8. Joking that Oliver’s first solid food would be steak — and then actually doing that.

7. Doing a CrossFit workout at seven months pregnant, posting the video to YouTube, and subsequently having to remove and disable comments due to a number of seriously nasty and ignorant remarks. I learned that it simply wasn’t worthwhile to invest my time and energy into responding to trolls.

6. Actually having to take a “41 weeks pregnant” belly photo, as Oliver showed up nine days late.

5. Hiking the Stawamus Chief at eight months pregnant, carrying 35 pounds of camera gear on my back! More photos here.

4. Sharing my tips for being active outdoors with a baby. This post is near and dear to my heart, as I have always wanted to impart my love of the outdoors on my child(ren), and I hope I can inspire others to do the same.

3. Doing the Spartan Race at six and a half months pregnant (and the resultant article in Impact Magazine). I had so much fun seeing the looks on peoples’ faces as I climbed over obstacles and through the mud pit with my growing belly! More photos here.

2. My struggle with breastfeeding. I think it’s equally important to share the low points in my journey, and this was definitely one of the biggest challenges I faced in the weeks after Oliver’s birth.

1. My number one pick should come as no surprise — the raison d’être for this blog, and the most significant moment of my entire life to date: Oliver’s birth!

So sorry for the two week stretches between posts. We have been entertaining out-of-town visitors and travelling to visit family and friends pretty much non-stop since the first of September. This has made the already very busy postpartum period even more jam-packed (in a good way, of course). After next weekend, we’ll be back into our regular routine, and I plan to carry on where I left off before Oliver’s birth, with two or three blog posts per week. I have so much to talk about; I just need the time in which to say it!

Oliver and Doggy – 8 weeks old

He is worth every minute of labour I endured!

It’s hard to believe that just two weeks ago I was holding Oliver for the first time! The days have positively flown by, but I think we’re managing very well, especially since we’re completely on our own with no family in town. I have had the best intentions of posting his birth story for more than a week now, but it seems that I so rarely have a moment with both hands free to type. Hopefully, in the coming weeks, as we all adjust to our new routines — and Oliver begins to take scheduled naps — I will be able to return to a more regular program of blogging. I will also respond to all the wonderful comments that were left on my blog from the days leading up to Oliver’s birth until now. Please know that I have read every single one, and I appreciate everyone’s kind words and warm wishes.

Now, without further ado, the story of Oliver’s birth:

On Saturday, August 13th, I was one week plus one day past my due date. Even though I was still feeling good physically, I was becoming frustrated and impatient, as I’d already had two membrane sweeps, yet had even less of a sense that labour was imminent than I’d had in previous days. J and I decided to go for a late night walk that somehow ended up at True Confections (an amazing, but decidedly non-Paleo, dessert place) . When we returned home, we started to look up natural techniques for inducing labour, and came across a video demonstrating labour-inducing acupressure points.

I’d already been taking evening primrose oil and a special herbal tea to no avail, so neither of us were particularly convinced of the merits of any other so-called natural induction techniques. Nonetheless, we tried it, and shockingly, I had my first real contraction only five minutes later. Whether it was a result of the acupressure or was mere coincidence, we will never know, but labour began at 2:15 AM on Sunday, August 14th.

We knew from our prenatal classes that we could have a long day (or two) ahead of us, so both J and I tried to get some sleep. Unfortunately, my contractions became much more intense within a couple of hours, and I found it impossible to sleep. By 8:00 AM, they were quite painful, and frequent enough that I woke J up, thinking active labour was close. We called our doula and midwives to apprise them of the situation, and J took care of me by making tea and snacks, massaging me, and bringing me heat packs for my back and abdomen.

By lunchtime I felt myself in need of extra assistance, so our doula came over around 1:00 PM. She was able to coach J and me on pain management techniques, and helped me get into a warm bath to relieve some of my discomfort. I had only managed to eat half a banana and half a LaraBar since morning, as my contractions were so strong that I felt I would not be able to keep any substantial amount of food down. I knew a lack of food could cause problems if my labour were to drag on for a long time, but I also knew that food wouldn’t be particularly helpful anyway if I couldn’t keep it inside of me.

At about 3:00 PM the midwives arrived, by which point my contractions were intense, frequent and very painful. I thought that I must be at least six centimetres dilated (based on how my contractions felt), and was extremely disappointed to find out that I was only four. My contractions had taken a strange direction, in that now the pain did not abate at all in between each contraction, so I had no opportunity to recover and brace myself for the next one. I was quite overwhelmed at the intensity of the pain, and was starting to feel that I would not be able to handle much more. An hour or so later, I asked the midwives about pain relief options. We discussed medication (narcotics) and epidurals. I was surprised and disappointed to discover there was nothing more moderate they could administer at home, and that I would have to proceed to the hospital to get any relief.

An hour later, one of the midwives examined me and found that I had only dilated about another centimetre and a half; possibly two centimetres. This was a fairly crushing blow to my morale, as I was having considerable difficulty coping with the pain, and to me, this meant I still had hours of hard labour yet to endure. I once again asked (then begged and cajoled, to no avail) whether there was anything they could give me at home to relieve the pain, but the answer was still no. I then made the decision that I needed to go to the hospital.

Unfortunately, the idea of actually getting out of the bathtub, getting dressed and travelling the five blocks to the hospital was completely overwhelming to me. I was terrified of having a contraction outside of the hot bath, and even more so of having one in the car. So much for my original idea of casually walking to the hospital! Instead, I was begging them to call an ambulance, because at least then I wouldn’t have to be strapped down in a seated position during contractions.

Two hours after making the decision to go to the hospital, and with considerable assistance from J, the midwives and the doula, I was able to get out of the tub, dressed, packed, and out the door. Luckily, the change in surroundings slowed my labour, and I only had a couple of minor contractions en route to the hospital.

We arrived at St. Paul’s at approximately 7:00 PM. Upon arrival, I was whisked off to Maternity and deposited into a room after practically throwing my healthcare card at the reception desk to avoid having to spend a single moment checking in. Once J (who had been parking the car), the midwives and the doula arrived in the room, I began to demand pain medication; however, I had to wait for a blood test (they wanted to check my platelet count) before anything could be done. Suddenly, I became aware of talk about anesthesiologists and epidurals, which was puzzling to me, because I’d only ever expressed a desire for pain medication.

When I inquired, it was explained that there was a point after which narcotics could no longer be administered due to the possibility of the medication affecting the baby. I really, really did not want to have an epidural. I only wanted some relief from the pain; not a complete loss of sensation. I was told that with an epidural, I would be confined to labouring on the bed, and would have to have a catheter as I would not be permitted to walk to the washroom. This was not how I’d envisioned my birth experience, and I was starting to see “the cascade of interventions” unfold before my eyes.

As it turned out, it was going to be a half hour or longer before the anesthesiologist would be available to give me the epidural, so I demanded that they give me something — anything – to help me cope with the pain in the interim.

While everyone else was debating what to do, the most wonderful nurse — who could clearly see I was having trouble — quickly arranged to get some intravenous Fentanyl (a narcotic) for me. Just a few minutes after receiving the medication, I started to feel more comfortable. While it didn’t take away the pain of the contractions, it took enough of the edge off the pain in between contractions that I was able to calm down and focus on the task at hand. At that point, I knew in no uncertain terms that I would not need an epidural to get through the rest of the labour.

Calming down helped my labour to progress, and within a half hour of receiving my first dose of Fentanyl, I began to feel the urge to push. I am apparently one of the lucky few who are relatively unaffected by narcotics. The Fentanyl had a calming and pain dulling effect, but did not make me nauseous, drowsy or ineffective. In fact, I was completely lucid and physically very capable of changing positions and getting up out of the bed, despite receiving a total of four doses over the course of a few hours.

I chose to push from a kneeling position on the bed, knowing that my post-date baby would likely be on the large side, and that kneeling provided the greatest odds of getting his shoulders out without difficulty. I also frequently got out of the bed to walk to the washroom and labour in a seated position on the toilet.

Shortly after 10:00 PM, I reached down and felt what I thought was the baby’s head (actually, it was the amniotic sac, which had shockingly not yet ruptured), and was encouraged. The midwives urged me to allow them to manually break my water, as it would make it easier for me to push the baby out. I reluctantly agreed (even though I thought it would have been really cool to have the baby born in an intact sac) as I really needed the process to be as easy as possible.

The intense pushing continued, and I could feel that the baby was moving down with each push. Just prior to 11:10 PM, I had my first discernible “CrossFit moment” of the entire labour. I looked at the clock and gave myself a deadline for the hardest workout of my life: the baby had to be born by 11:15. Three pushes later, with a searing pain and a couple of loud screams that could have never come out of my mouth under any other circumstances, Oliver arrived, with the clock reading 11:12 (he was actually born at 11:09 — I later found out that the hospital clock was three minutes fast).

J caught Oliver in his hands as he came out, and the fact that he was the first person to handle Oliver made the experience really special for all of us. J also got to cut the cord once it had stopped pulsing.

Oliver began to cry immediately, and there was no doubt in my mind that he was strong and healthy. He was quickly passed to me and I held him on my chest while the midwives towelled him off. I was struck by how seemingly tiny — yet completely perfect — he was.

A very short time later, he was taken to be assessed by the pediatrician, while the midwives examined me for tearing and helped me to deliver the placenta. J was very proactive in staying with Oliver and pushing the pediatrician to give him back to me at the soonest possible moment. Oliver had scored nine out of 10 on both APGAR tests and appeared to be completely unaffected by the Fentanyl, but  for some reason the pediatrician was concerned that due to my low platelet count, he could have blood clotting issues. In the meantime, I delivered the placenta without oxytocin, and without any excess bleeding whatsoever, so all of the concern for my low platelets turned out to be for naught.

This same pediatrician was also very displeased with our decision to decline the Vitamin K shot. Although platelets and Vitamin K are two entirely different clotting factors, she tried to scare us into submission by suggesting that my low platelet count would somehow make Oliver more susceptible to Vitamin K Deficiency Bleeding. Our midwives were excellent at running interference for us, and while we still felt the pediatrician’s immense pressure to comply, we never had to discuss the issue directly with the her. After much back and forth, we compromised by agreeing to have Oliver’s platelets checked a few hours after birth. If the low platelet count turned out to be hereditary (which I knew it would not be, since it had only been a gestational issue for me), we would strongly re-consider our stance on the Vitamin K shot.

In the meantime, I had unfortunately torn very, very badly, and spent the next two hours being stitched up by a midwife and two doctors. Besides being an incredibly painful process, it made it very difficult to attempt breastfeeding, as I was distracted, in pain and in a most awkward position. I was, however, able to keep Oliver on my chest, skin to skin, throughout the ordeal.

After I was finished being stitched up, a lab technician came to take blood from Oliver. If I had known how the blood would be drawn, I’d have never agreed to subject him to the test. It was awful; completely heartbreaking. The technician pricked his heel with a blade and had to fill half a vial with blood by pressing and shaking the blood out of the wound while he screamed. Initially, she wanted me to put him in the cot before she drew the blood, but I’m glad that I stood my ground and insisted on being able to hold him in my arms. As it turned out, his platelet count was a very healthy 260,000 so there was no further discussion of the Vitamin K prophylaxis.

Finally, at 2:15 AM, 24 hours after labour had begun and three hours after Oliver’s birth, we were left alone to enjoy some quiet time together as a family. A short time later, J went to sleep on the fold-out armchair and Oliver curled up on my chest.

Morning came quickly, with the delivery of a most disgusting breakfast of lukewarm Cream of Wheat, stewed prunes, an institutional banana muffin and some margarine. I took one look at the tray and sent J to Starbucks for some breakfast sandwiches and tea! Although the hospital likes to keep maternity patients for a minimum of 24 hours after delivery, we requested — and were granted — an early discharge (…and were thus able to avoid the hospital lunch).

At about 1:00 PM, we strapped Oliver into his car seat and headed home. In the evening, we went for our first walk to the grocery store, with our beautiful 18-hour-old baby in tow, and we’ve since managed to get out of the apartment — even just for brief trips — every single day since Oliver’s birth.

Overall, labour was a lot more difficult than I ever imagined it would be. I’m not really sure why my contractions were as intense as they were from such an early point, nor why the pain was so completely unrelenting, but I certainly never anticipated that I would be begging to go to the hospital for pain relief. Initially, I was disappointed that it hadn’t been easier, because I had truly believed that being in such good shape would make labour (relatively speaking) a breeze. I was also disappointed in my complete inability to handle the pain. But in the end, I realized that I was able to labour at home for 17 of the 21 hours and avoid any major interventions, and of course, I gave birth to a beautiful, healthy boy, which is the only thing that truly matters. And really, who’s to say that labour might not have been even more difficult than it was if I hadn’t taken such good care of my health during pregnancy?

Where I can unequivocally say that my health and fitness has made a difference is in my recovery. It has been astoundingly rapid. As previously mentioned, I was home from the hospital half a day after giving birth, and out and about in the neighbourhood later that evening. One week post-partum, I had lost 20 pounds and was only eight pounds above my pre-pregnancy weight. Now, two weeks later, I don’t look at all like someone who has recently given birth, and I am ready to return to the gym to begin my “lose the baby weight” challenge (more on that later).

With that, I’m off to try and sneak in some much-needed sleep. I have lots to say about our first couple of weeks as new parents (besides the fact that we’ve actually been pretty fantastic about sticking to our Paleo diet during a very chaotic time!), but it shall all have to wait until a later post.

One week post-partum belly

41 Weeks!

We have been to the midwife twice this week.

On Wednesday we had our regular weekly appointment. Because I have passed my due date, I had to undergo an internal exam, and the midwife said she could use that as an opportunity to determine whether or not conditions were favourable for a membrane sweep. As it turned out, she felt that the baby was very well positioned and that my cervix was sufficiently soft, so I ended up agreeing to the sweep after all. It was slightly unpleasant, but not as bad as I’d anticipated, and afterwards she reported that I was three centimetres dilated, 70 percent effaced, and that the baby was just about fully engaged. The prognosis was that both the baby and I were ready, and that I would likely go into labour shortly afterwards.

Well the sweep did something, but it didn’t quite put me into labour. Wednesday evening was the first time I really started to feel uncomfortable. I had cramping in my lower stomach, aching in my back, and mild contractions throughout the night. The baby was squirming around for hours on end. Walking was awkward, to say the least, and I dreaded every time I had to roll over and get out of bed to use the washroom. But alas, I awoke yesterday morning feeling great… and still very much pregnant.

Then yesterday evening, I noticed that the baby had really dropped. There was a lot of very uncomfortable pressure in my pelvis, and I thought perhaps things were finally moving along. But again, I woke up this morning feeling perfectly fine. This afternoon we went for another midwife appointment, and she reported that the baby is now fully engaged and that my cervix is softer and even further dilated than it was on Wednesday. I submitted to another sweep, and now we’re just crossing our fingers that he decides to come out before Monday’s non-stress test and ultrasound (which, due to hospital timings, basically takes all afternoon). If he’s not born this weekend, next week will involve a whole slew of time-consuming appointments and tests — blood work, three non-stress tests, three ultrasounds, at least one midwife appointment and a consult with the hospital obstetrician. Ugh. I think I’d much rather have my days consumed by caring for the baby.

In other news, I had my platelets re-tested yesterday, and they’ve actually risen to 108,000! Following my August 1st post about low platelet count, they had dropped quite precipitously from 110,000 to 99,000 in just over a week’s time. Obviously, this was a slightly disconcerting turn of events, but my most recent results take me out of the midwife’s “danger zone.” Nonetheless, I have decided to proceed with the oxytocin shot post delivery, just to be on the safe side (and to avoid the dreaded painful “abdominal massage” that is often used along with oxytocin to stop post-partum hemorrhaging). I’m still on the fence about the IV saline lock.

We’re hoping that this weekend will bring some exciting news

I think I’m kind of going to miss this belly after the baby is born

We have a midwife appointment tomorrow, and they’re going to want to do a membrane sweep to speed things along. Last week I declined (it was still two days prior to my due date), and I’m still undecided as to what I will choose to do tomorrow. I feel as if these sorts of procedures yield very mixed results, and that the baby will come on his own if he’s ready to do so. Besides, it’s bound to be at minimum unpleasant, and at worst uncomfortable and even painful.

If the baby doesn’t show up by Monday, I will have to start going into the hospital every two days for a non-stress test and ultrasound. Hopefully we won’t get that far, but if we do, at least we’ll be able to make sure he is still healthy and thriving, and avoid the need for an induction or caesarian based on timelines alone.

40 Weeks – August 5th, 2011 (due date)

Yesterday was the “official” due date, and it has come and gone rather uneventfully. I’m not particularly worried, since I know that most first babies are late and that the midwives won’t pressure us to induce until 42 weeks. We still have time.

I get the occasional sensation of the baby’s head pressing down on my cervix, but it’s sporadic and usually short-lived. The Braxton-Hicks contractions have certainly increased in intensity, but I definitely wouldn’t classify any of them as “legitimate” contractions yet. Yesterday, while shopping at Wal-Mart (I know…), I thought I might have felt a slight trickle of amniotic fluid, and I chuckled at the sheer trashiness of the idea of my water breaking at Wal-Mart.

The baby still moves around in his increasingly confined quarters, and J can still hear his heartbeat through my belly, so basically, everything’s fine and we just keep on keeping on.

We’re trying to fill our days with interesting plans and events, rather than sitting around the house just waiting for something to happen, but it sure is difficult when all of our plans come with the caveat, “as long as we’re not having a baby.” This evening — as long as we’re not having a baby — we’ll be going to a cocktail party aboard the Chilean Navy’s Training Ship Esmeralda, who is docked in North Vancouver this weekend. What a gorgeous ship!

Photo courtesy of Wikipedia “Esmeralda (BE-43)”

Hopefully we’ll have some exciting news to report in the coming days…

Being able to shave my legs without having Braxton-Hicks contractions.

Drinking a glass of wine with my meal in a restaurant (I always feel like people will judge me if I do this).

Sleeping on my stomach!!

Sleeping without a body pillow between me and J.

Being able to roll over in bed without feeling like a beached whale.

Being able to breathe while I’m bent over to lace up my shoes.

Fitting into my shoes.

Pushing my limits at the gym.

Seeing my abs.

Going out in public without constantly worrying that my belly is peeking out from the bottom of my shirt.

Going out in public without complete strangers feeling compelled to rub my belly (though I’m sure they’ll want to manhandle the baby instead, which will probably drive me even crazier).

Getting into my SUV without having to gracelessly launch myself up onto the seat.

Getting out of J’s car without a pulley system.

Having an “innie” bellybutton.

Trimming my nails weekly (instead of thrice weekly).

Not having to repeatedly tell every stranger I interact with when I’m due, how excited I am, that we do know the gender, what the gender is, that we’ve decided on a name, and that no, we are not telling what it is.

Knowing that feeling like I have to use the washroom means I really do; not that someone is merely exerting pressure on my bladder.

Having enough space in my stomach to eat a good pound of meat in one sitting

On a serious note, though, the pregnancy has been a truly awesome experience.  I have loved almost every minute of it, and I really have nothing to complain about!

39 Weeks!

At 30 weeks, I underwent a routine third trimester blood screening that tests for various indicators of anemia and potential clotting disorders. I have a history of low iron levels that, while vastly improved by switching to the Paleo diet (I used to be a rather anemic vegetarian!), still requires that I take an iron supplement on a regular basis. For lack of any other pathology or obvious cause, my doctor has attributed it to my high level of physical activity and the fact that my body is constantly turning over red blood cells in order to repair and build muscle. In other words, I have a higher than average need for iron that cannot be satisfied by my diet alone. As a result, I undergo blood testing a couple of times a year in order to ensure that all of my indicators remain within the normal range. As it so happens, I’d had a blood screening done right before I became pregnant, which has provided a helpful baseline with which to compare any pregnancy blood test results.

Even though I have been supplementing consistently throughout the pregnancy, my 30 week blood test showed decreased ferritin (stored iron) levels, from 60 down to 23, and decreased platelets, from 189,000 per microlitre of blood down to 129,000 (the normal range being 150,000 to 400,000). I doubled my daily iron supplement and went back for a re-test two weeks later, which showed ferritin levels unchanged, but even lower platelet levels (125,000). At the same time, in order to provide a more complete picture of any potential problems, I also had tests to assess Vitamin B12 levels, folate levels and blood coagulation factors (essentially Vitamin K levels). All returned with normal results.

One of my midwives assured me that it is actually quite normal to have lower ferritin levels during late pregnancy, as the body is simply unable to store extra iron while the growing baby’s needs are so high, but that the first few months post-partum are a particularly good time to re-build these stores. She advised me to continue with my double supplementation in order to keep my levels as high as possible for the remainder of the pregnancy.

As for the platelet count, while 125,000 would be considered too low under most normal circumstances, she told me that the midwives generally do not worry about platelet count during pregnancy unless it falls below 100,000. She gave me a requisition for a re-test at 36 to 37 weeks.

Fast forward to five weeks later (37 weeks), and my platelet count decreased to 110,000, putting me at risk of falling below the 100,000 threshold before the baby is born (amazingly, my ferritin has actually increased to 32!). We reviewed our birth plans with the midwife, and she recommended that A) I have an IV saline lock inserted during active labour to allow for an emergency access point if my blood volume drops precipitously due to hemorrhaging; and B) I allow them to give me a shot of oxytocin immediately after the baby is born, in order to stimulate uterine contractions and expulsion of the placenta, and thus reduce the risk of a post-partum hemorrhage. We agreed to both recommendations, as they sounded like reasonable precautions against a potentially dangerous situation.

Concerned, I began to research platelet disorders and pregnancy, and I discovered that thrombocytopenia (platelet deficiency) affects approximately eight percent of all pregnancies. While about 30 percent of those cases are caused by conditions such as autoimmune responses (e.g. lupus, abnormal destruction of platelets), infections, pre-eclampsia or HELLP syndrome, the remaining 70 percent fall under the category of non-pathological gestational thrombocytopenia, which “just happens” to some women and presents no risks to either mother or fetus.

Gestational thrombocytopenia occurs due to a combination of accelerated platelet destruction during pregnancy (the platelets have a shorter lifespan and are simply not replaced as quickly as they are destroyed), and increased blood volume (platelet concentration becomes diluted). If a woman’s pre-pregnancy platelet count is already on the low end of normal, as mine was, it is very easy for it to fall below normal levels over the course of the pregnancy. While there are fewer platelets, they are thought to be larger and possibly more effective, thus to some degree compensating for their lower concentration. This condition does not in any way impact the platelet count or clotting abilities of the baby’s blood, and thus does not put the baby at increased risk of Vitamin K deficiency bleeding.

Unfortunately, there is no test to conclusively distinguish between non-pathological GT and a more dangerous condition known as immune (or autoimmune) thrombocytopenic purpura (ITP or ATP); however, most women who have garden variety GT develop the condition in the third trimester, maintain a platelet count over 70,000, have no previous (non-pregnancy) history of thrombocytopenia or abnormal bleeding, and recover to normal platelet levels within three months of giving birth. Platelet levels between 70,000 and 100,000 are considered to be a “mild” case of GT, and do not require any special considerations for labour and delivery.

Given that all of my other blood indicators are completely normal, and that I have had no symptoms whatsoever of autoimmune issues, infection, pre-eclampsia or HELLP syndrome, I feel very strongly that I am simply one of the five to six percent of women who experience this condition during pregnancy, and go on to have a perfectly normal labour, delivery and recovery.

We are now in the process of reconsidering the necessity of the IV saline lock and the oxytocin shot. My preference would be to forego both procedures: the saline lock because it makes other interventions (such as the administration of IV pain medication) more likely to occur, and the oxytocin shot because I would really like to trust my body’s ability to undergo the birth process with as little external assistance as possible. I also know that the oxytocin is kept close at hand throughout the birth, and can be administered at any time if it appears that excessive bleeding is occurring. Armed with this new information (and another blood test to be done tomorrow), we will discuss our decision with the midwife at our next appointment.

Friday is my official due date, though I’m definitely not getting any indication that he’s going to make his grand appearance this week. I’m not concerned at this point, as I still feel great, and I know that he will show up whenever he’s good and ready. Besides, we could definitely use one more leisurely weekend of sleeping in and lazing about