Much as I cried and protested, worried about my baby’s fate and mourned a pregnancy ending too soon, the reality was that my baby and I would have died if the pregnancy continued.
It started at week 29 when I noticed my ankles swelled dramatically at work. I checked in with the maternity unit and they told me to only call back if the symptoms persisted. They certainly persisted.
It was a matter of days before I was no longer able to wear my shoes. People started commenting on the appearance of my ankles and feet. My hands started swelling and my face too, all by the end of the working week.
At week 30 at my prenatal appointment, my blood pressure was so high that I was sent straight to hospital. I knew it was serious when the obstetrician said, “let’s hope you don’t have preeclampsia. If you do you’ll get nowhere near your due date.”
I was shaken when I left but assumed that meant I might make it to week 36, have a 2.7kg baby and go home the next day. Easy.
I was sent home with slightly elevated creatinine levels. The nurse told me, "just because you have a headache, doesn’t mean you have preeclampsia." I was back in hospital twice before my daughter was born with exceedingly high blood pressure, flashes in my vision and headaches.