Before my pregnancy, I’d never had any health issues. My husband, John, and I lived active lives and I kept this up after I got pregnant. I ran most days until 20 weeks when I switched to doing spin classes instead. That was my happy place. Work was busy, and I was feeling focused and excited to be a mother. I still can’t put my finger on exactly what it was that made me go to the doctor. I was rushing from meeting to meeting one day when I realised something wasn’t right.
I can still remember the poor young doctor’s hand shaking as she took my pulse. She was holding my wrist when she said, “Who’s your obstetrician? I’m going to call her.” I began to worry. “What’s going on? Is my baby okay?” I asked. She said my baby was fine but my resting heart rate was 185 – which is dangerously high – and I needed to go to the hospital.
When they put me on an ECG my heart rate appeared normal. Nobody quite knew what was wrong. I was a bit tired and a bit breathless, but at that point I was nearly 30 weeks pregnant and you’re supposed to be. I was told I’d need to be monitored weekly.
At my next appointment the following week, my heart was only operating at half its capacity. That’s when my obstetrician, Anne, began talking about an early caesarean. I was worried because she’d also told me that every week my baby remained inside was like a month on the outside. Fortunately at 32 weeks, my ultrasound was stable. Or so we thought.
Diese Geschichte stammt aus der February 2021-Ausgabe von Australian Women’s Weekly NZ.
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Diese Geschichte stammt aus der February 2021-Ausgabe von Australian Women’s Weekly NZ.
Starten Sie Ihre 7-tägige kostenlose Testversion von Magzter GOLD, um auf Tausende kuratierte Premium-Storys sowie über 8.000 Zeitschriften und Zeitungen zuzugreifen.
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