The Post I've Been Avoiding: Placenta What?

Subtitle: What I Didn’t Expect to Find Out at My 20-Week Ultrasound

This problem is like a spider in my bedroom. I try really hard not to think about it, but it’s there. Unless, of course, it goes away. I’m pretty sure that I’m avoiding writing—or even thinking—about this subject altogether in hopes that it will disappear. But since it’s already affecting my lifestyle to a degree, it’s also staring me in the face a bit.

Shortly after discovering our baby’s gender, we entered our doctor’s office where, after congratulating us on the little lady growing inside, the words “placenta previa” escaped from her lips. Placenta wha? She really didn’t give me a lot of information, but explained that my placenta is completely blocking my cervix, and told me if I notice any spotting or bleeding that I would need to contact her office. She also said I should try to avoid avid running and a couple other “activities.”

She explained that, in my case, placenta previa has a 50 percent chance of correcting itself—or moving as it grows so the cervix is no longer blocked. Don’t quote me on that percentage, but that’s how I (choose to?) remember it. Fifty percent offers pretty good odds. But after hitting up the world wide web, my concerns grew a little. I read about the possibilities of mandatory c sections (eek), up to 15 weeks of bed rest (ugh!) and scary bleeding stories (double eek) that warrant multiple trips to hospitals and emergency rooms.

I’m trying to take it easy, but it’s hard not to haul necessities like groceries up a couple flights of stairs, and sometimes a toddler, too. Bigger, I also have to move out of our apartment next month—and I don’t live anywhere near family members. I have so much to do, before then and after. I cannot, willnot, shouldnot have placenta previa. I am thinking good thoughts in hopes that I can mentally alter the positioning of my placenta. I find myself taking deep breaths and imagining my uterus is a balloon that can be filled up to float and rotate inside me.

For now, I’ll just keep mentally smashing that spider. I’m keeping my fingers and toes crossed for the news I want at my next ultrasound in early September. I like to think my chances are good. The glass is half full, after all.

Did you have placenta previa? Did you have any symptoms I should be mindful of? Had it changed positions at the next ultrasound?

Article Posted 7 years Ago

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