Not a great week this week as Easter Monday we had to go to hospital. I hadn't felt baby move all Sunday night - usually it has a bit of a kick about whenever I get up to go to the bathroom or feed Cillian at 5:30am, but there was nothing.
By about 10am I was concerned. Nothing seemed to make baby move. I tried hunching down in positions that the baby had previously complained about, I poked it, I ate, I drank cold water and I asked SBB to talk to it. Nothing worked.
I was unloading the dishwasher, crying, afraid of what had happened to our baby. I managed to keep myself together enough to phone the hospital and they told me to come in. The lack of movement would have been scary enough but all SBB and I could think about was something that had happened the night before: his back was aching so he asked me to rub ibuprofen gel on his lower back before he headed out to football. I was massaging it in for about a minute before it struck me that it was ibuprofen. I washed my hands 4 times after I realised but by the next morning when the baby wasn't moving I began to get worried that I'd been affected by it.
We got onto the ward and were shown to a bed. I was asked to give a urine sample (not in the bed!) which thankfully was in a dish and not the teeny tube such as the one I was given at my first scan. The midwife got out the fetal heart monitor and there it was - baby's heartbeat. Doing well.
She suggested that it had probably turned and was kicking at my back, which was why I couldn't feel it. She also suggested it was a boy as it was being difficult. A flattering attitude towards men, yet again.
I was doing fine - holding myself together - until she said "it's okay to burst into tears now" - and I promptly did.
The next day I was uncomfortable - I felt something like stitch but it was in the side of my bump, not my side - so it was uncomfortable to move, or sit down, or walk. However baby was moving well - lots of movement throughout the rest of the week.