Just a word of warning to those of you who find yourselves on bed rest. . .
Under NO circumstance should you watch a movie called Bachelorette.
It is on Netflix - Streaming and I'm pretty sure this shit went straight to home video, despite the usually stellar individual actors.
The Hub suggested it after I made zero attempts to turn off the Candy Crush Saga.
10 minutes in, he made the follow-up suggestion that we ditch before we lost too much life. But, no, I thought there was a chance of a recovery.
I was wrong.
We watched it to the bitter end. And I am pretty sure that I lost more than just a couple hours of my life.
For sticking it out, I deserve solitary.
Alllll by myself. . . . .
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Thursday, August 29, 2013
KNOW THINE ENEMY.
The Hub and I spent time in the Clink last night. Having counted contractions for two hours and finding them to be coming between five and 7 minutes - regularly, we called and headed to the hospital.
Monitoring showed a severely irritable uterus - meaning that I was contracting like crazy but not making cervical headway. (This is a good thing!) Fearing that might change, I was given a shot of Terbutaline. Let me explain it. It is a slightly stinging shot administered into the meat of the shoulder. Almost immediately, it makes you feel like the bottom has dropped out and your heart is beating out of your chest. You spend the next two hours or so feeling like you can't shake off a growing stress. (Kind of like work, right?)
Thankfully, we remembered the ipad last night and the Hub discovered that Terbutaline is a derivative of Epinephrine - also known as the junk in an EpiPen. Yeah. I have had that several times due to really shitty allergic reactions. Ugh!
Meanwhile, I had a cervical length check and it was good - I'm still 4+. The doctor was really sweet and actually made it into my vagina with the probe without dinging off any other markers. Nice!
The most important part of the visit, was the naming of names. No, this was no regal religious service. But, I pronounce it must more important. I now have a name for my affliction.
Silent Dilator.
I am a silent dilator. I do not feel contractions like a normal body. Instead, I rely on my own uterine palpations to identify contractions from the outside. Think that's easy? You are wrong.
Silent dilators move effortlessly from 4+ cervical lengths to 4cm dilation. Silent dilators often feel NO pain until the urge to push is upon them. Silent dilators are gifted with a near painless delivery but cursed with lack of warning to labor.
Somehow, it feels empowering to finally have a name for this bastard that killed my first baby.
Monitoring showed a severely irritable uterus - meaning that I was contracting like crazy but not making cervical headway. (This is a good thing!) Fearing that might change, I was given a shot of Terbutaline. Let me explain it. It is a slightly stinging shot administered into the meat of the shoulder. Almost immediately, it makes you feel like the bottom has dropped out and your heart is beating out of your chest. You spend the next two hours or so feeling like you can't shake off a growing stress. (Kind of like work, right?)
Thankfully, we remembered the ipad last night and the Hub discovered that Terbutaline is a derivative of Epinephrine - also known as the junk in an EpiPen. Yeah. I have had that several times due to really shitty allergic reactions. Ugh!
Meanwhile, I had a cervical length check and it was good - I'm still 4+. The doctor was really sweet and actually made it into my vagina with the probe without dinging off any other markers. Nice!
The most important part of the visit, was the naming of names. No, this was no regal religious service. But, I pronounce it must more important. I now have a name for my affliction.
Silent Dilator.
I am a silent dilator. I do not feel contractions like a normal body. Instead, I rely on my own uterine palpations to identify contractions from the outside. Think that's easy? You are wrong.
Silent dilators move effortlessly from 4+ cervical lengths to 4cm dilation. Silent dilators often feel NO pain until the urge to push is upon them. Silent dilators are gifted with a near painless delivery but cursed with lack of warning to labor.
Somehow, it feels empowering to finally have a name for this bastard that killed my first baby.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
JACKPOT!
I have been searching high and low for the hospital grade mesh underwear and accompanying jumbo diaper sized pads that one receives after delivery. Seriously, girls, these things saved my life last time. While the hospital sends you home with a stockpile, I am so sensitive to the smell of Lochia (read: Holy SHIT!) that I feel the need to change supplies VERY FREQUENTLY.
So, in honor of my new found SUPPLIER. .
THE PADS
THE UNDERWEAR
You are welcome.
So, in honor of my new found SUPPLIER. .
THE PADS
THE UNDERWEAR
You are welcome.
SLOW DRIVE TO INSANITY.
Let's talk about bed rest.
I know some of you are on it. And it sucks. This isn't really for us. This is for all of the fools out there who think bed rest is a mini vacation of sleep and relaxation. This is for the asshats who like to tell us that it is all worth it in the end. This is for all of the morons who, if they tell me it's just a little thing I must do for my child, I will search for the most illegal, longest ranging, high-powered rifle and kill them in their home from my bed. . . But, really, Mr. FBI-Man, that isn't feasible. I can barely even fire a gun - much less make the perfect shot over houses and around corners. Right.
So, let's talk about bed rest.
I try my hardest to keep a regular schedule. I know that if I sleep too much during the day, I will eventually NOT sleep at night. As it is, my insomnia prevents me from falling asleep soon enough. So, I typically wake up between 830 and 930am and go to bed between 1030 and 11pm. I feel like this is as normal as it gets right now.
Once I wake up, I lay in bed whilst allowing my fuzzy eyes to focus on something. I breathe. A lot. I'm waiting to feel the baby wake-up, too. I've read about other women drinking soda and eating candy bars prior to their OB appointments, but I need to feel my child move EVERY morning.
When the baby has gotten his morning calisthenics out of the way, I get up and take care of business. Potty time and oral hygiene and a change of PJs helps me feel better and ready to face the day. On the couch.
Lately I have watched across the street as our neighbors are putting in a garage from the ground up. I approve of their building methods.
Eventually, I start snacking. I am very aware of my lack of physical activity. Therefore, when I eat, I make sure to control both the portions and the calories. I am making sure that both the baby and I get the necessary input because GOOD GRAVY, people, I am already having some serious muscle atrophy.
At some point, I will start a marathon of television - both DVRd and "live"
Of course, while all of this is happening (did I really just refer to my life as "all of this?!?!?"), I am drinking copious amounts of water to help stave off additional contractions. Additional to the few I have each hour in spite of the bed rest.
When the Hub finally gets home, he takes the Puppers out for some play time - can I tell you how frustrating it is that I can't play with her? Throwing a ball is bad, bad, bad.
Dinner is made and served shortly after.
Then, we talk and watch TV and my Hub tries desperately to suggest activities until I start to feel really grubby and go take a shower.
Bedtime follows closely.
Think that this all sounds like a good day? Did I mention that I was heavily reclined or on my side in bed during these activities? Do you know what constant laying does to your body? The less physical activity you have, the more exhausted you get. The more exhausted you are, the less you want to do. . . it's a vicious circle, people!
Meanwhile, dear bed resters, I can't completely leave you out of this one. . . here are some things that keep me amused while I "lay about". .
* Sudoku. I do a few and then stop. There is something about newsprint paper that make me reminisce about grade school.
* Crossword Puzzles. I do one and then stop. I <3 the New York Times Crossword Puzzle.
* Television. This must be limited to detour from Crazy Town. But, I enjoy Orange is the New Black, Covert Affairs, and any number of crime shows. I try to limit this to a few hours a day - with the little addition of St Louis Cardinals Baseball. That usually rounds out my nights.
* Researching baby products. My Hub and I are *not* those people. We are not buying everything under the sun for our offspring. Instead, we have a short list that must be procured prior to the baby's arrival. Last night, we talked about said products so that if I went into labor today, he could run out and get everything. Smart? Oh yeah. Prepared? Oh yeah. One short mile from Crazy Town? OH YEAH! (Kool-Aid Man, whut-whut?)
* Because I have my own hang-ups about preparing for the baby, I have yet to do any craftiness for him. I have the "ingredients" for a baby blanket and a myriad of other supplies with which to knit awesomeness, but I can't bring myself to do any of it. Fear is a strong anti-motivator. But, I hear crafts are awesome for bed rest. IF you can do them laying down. ;)
Eventually, I should write a post about baby products that I plan to use so that I can then write about just how right or wrong I was - after the baby has arrived. Perhaps I will add blogging to my list of things to do more often. . . Right.
I know some of you are on it. And it sucks. This isn't really for us. This is for all of the fools out there who think bed rest is a mini vacation of sleep and relaxation. This is for the asshats who like to tell us that it is all worth it in the end. This is for all of the morons who, if they tell me it's just a little thing I must do for my child, I will search for the most illegal, longest ranging, high-powered rifle and kill them in their home from my bed. . . But, really, Mr. FBI-Man, that isn't feasible. I can barely even fire a gun - much less make the perfect shot over houses and around corners. Right.
So, let's talk about bed rest.
I try my hardest to keep a regular schedule. I know that if I sleep too much during the day, I will eventually NOT sleep at night. As it is, my insomnia prevents me from falling asleep soon enough. So, I typically wake up between 830 and 930am and go to bed between 1030 and 11pm. I feel like this is as normal as it gets right now.
Once I wake up, I lay in bed whilst allowing my fuzzy eyes to focus on something. I breathe. A lot. I'm waiting to feel the baby wake-up, too. I've read about other women drinking soda and eating candy bars prior to their OB appointments, but I need to feel my child move EVERY morning.
When the baby has gotten his morning calisthenics out of the way, I get up and take care of business. Potty time and oral hygiene and a change of PJs helps me feel better and ready to face the day. On the couch.
Lately I have watched across the street as our neighbors are putting in a garage from the ground up. I approve of their building methods.
Eventually, I start snacking. I am very aware of my lack of physical activity. Therefore, when I eat, I make sure to control both the portions and the calories. I am making sure that both the baby and I get the necessary input because GOOD GRAVY, people, I am already having some serious muscle atrophy.
At some point, I will start a marathon of television - both DVRd and "live"
Of course, while all of this is happening (did I really just refer to my life as "all of this?!?!?"), I am drinking copious amounts of water to help stave off additional contractions. Additional to the few I have each hour in spite of the bed rest.
When the Hub finally gets home, he takes the Puppers out for some play time - can I tell you how frustrating it is that I can't play with her? Throwing a ball is bad, bad, bad.
Dinner is made and served shortly after.
Then, we talk and watch TV and my Hub tries desperately to suggest activities until I start to feel really grubby and go take a shower.
Bedtime follows closely.
Think that this all sounds like a good day? Did I mention that I was heavily reclined or on my side in bed during these activities? Do you know what constant laying does to your body? The less physical activity you have, the more exhausted you get. The more exhausted you are, the less you want to do. . . it's a vicious circle, people!
Meanwhile, dear bed resters, I can't completely leave you out of this one. . . here are some things that keep me amused while I "lay about". .
* Sudoku. I do a few and then stop. There is something about newsprint paper that make me reminisce about grade school.
* Crossword Puzzles. I do one and then stop. I <3 the New York Times Crossword Puzzle.
* Television. This must be limited to detour from Crazy Town. But, I enjoy Orange is the New Black, Covert Affairs, and any number of crime shows. I try to limit this to a few hours a day - with the little addition of St Louis Cardinals Baseball. That usually rounds out my nights.
* Researching baby products. My Hub and I are *not* those people. We are not buying everything under the sun for our offspring. Instead, we have a short list that must be procured prior to the baby's arrival. Last night, we talked about said products so that if I went into labor today, he could run out and get everything. Smart? Oh yeah. Prepared? Oh yeah. One short mile from Crazy Town? OH YEAH! (Kool-Aid Man, whut-whut?)
* Because I have my own hang-ups about preparing for the baby, I have yet to do any craftiness for him. I have the "ingredients" for a baby blanket and a myriad of other supplies with which to knit awesomeness, but I can't bring myself to do any of it. Fear is a strong anti-motivator. But, I hear crafts are awesome for bed rest. IF you can do them laying down. ;)
Eventually, I should write a post about baby products that I plan to use so that I can then write about just how right or wrong I was - after the baby has arrived. Perhaps I will add blogging to my list of things to do more often. . . Right.
Sunday, August 25, 2013
PROCESS OF ELIMINATION.
It has taken a week or so, but I have pin-pointed my latest shitty symptom of pregnancy. No, this time it has nothing to do with actual shit. . .
Sometimes, late at night, I wake up with a mouth full of vomit. Yes. I said that.
If I'm too asleep to move quickly, I might swallow it. . . Other times, I might make a run for it.
As it turns out, if I eat too late and in a large quantity, I don't have enough time to digest (thanks to a super slow digesting baby). Therefore, I have gnarly acid reflux in the night.
So, as part of a trial, I will no longer eat after 9pm. Or, if I must,it will be a snack sized meal.
Congratulations, you made it through this post.
Ugh!
Sometimes, late at night, I wake up with a mouth full of vomit. Yes. I said that.
If I'm too asleep to move quickly, I might swallow it. . . Other times, I might make a run for it.
As it turns out, if I eat too late and in a large quantity, I don't have enough time to digest (thanks to a super slow digesting baby). Therefore, I have gnarly acid reflux in the night.
So, as part of a trial, I will no longer eat after 9pm. Or, if I must,it will be a snack sized meal.
Congratulations, you made it through this post.
Ugh!
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
ONCE A WEEK.
Per my OB, I need some mental health checks. So, to keep me from going nuts (and bolts), I am allowed to go out to eat and to a movie once a week. Of course, there must be door side drop off and I have to limit my walking. But, seriously, I already noticed that my bedroom ceiling needs to be repainted and my bed is no longer the safe haven it once was. . . It is taking on the characteristics of a lethal injection station. Ugh.
So, today, I am fantasizing about my next outing. I'm not sure where I will go or what I will do, but, I'm going to make it good. Anyone interested in joining?
I would love to do the following outings. . .
Mani-Pedi at my spa
Facial and Brazillian Wax at my spa (Yeah. This is more of a loner thing, right?)
Sunday Lunch at the Belleville Eckert's
Five Guys Burgers and Fries is a quick dinner
Dewey's Pizza makes me smile (with spinach in my teeth)
Top of the Riverfront for Sunday Brunch is over priced but the view is worth it to me
I'm sure that with some thought I can come up with more. Perhaps the more I come up with, the longer I will stay pregnant. Perhaps.
So, today, I am fantasizing about my next outing. I'm not sure where I will go or what I will do, but, I'm going to make it good. Anyone interested in joining?
I would love to do the following outings. . .
Mani-Pedi at my spa
Facial and Brazillian Wax at my spa (Yeah. This is more of a loner thing, right?)
Sunday Lunch at the Belleville Eckert's
Five Guys Burgers and Fries is a quick dinner
Dewey's Pizza makes me smile (with spinach in my teeth)
Top of the Riverfront for Sunday Brunch is over priced but the view is worth it to me
I'm sure that with some thought I can come up with more. Perhaps the more I come up with, the longer I will stay pregnant. Perhaps.
Monday, August 19, 2013
NERP. NERP. NERP.
It's Monday. I'm 26 weeks pregnant and I think it is a good time to talk about Nipples during Pregnancy. (I can't wait to see how many people find this blog due to that last statement.)
During pregnancy, a woman's breasticles experience some big changes. Also, some BIG CHANGES.
In the beginning (No, I'm not going to reference the blog post), there is pain. No, not a sharp, stinging, fleeting pain, but a dull, aching, never-ending bastard of a pain. Jacks? Remember that post now? It felt like my fun-bags were filled with Jacks.
Then, the Nipples get tender. I'm talking chaffed tender. Raw tender. OMG! They are so red tender!!
Eventually, you find yourself waking in the middle of the night - thankful that you have just clipped your fingernails down to the nubbins, because you are scratching at your Nipples in a subconscious effort to tear them off. Yes. It's *that* bad.
Now, 26 weeks in, I can tell you that my normally pale pink precipices have darkened and enlarged. One article suggested that they darken so that your primarily blind infant will be able to see them. I'm pretty sure any infant that I have ever seen in the throes of hunger is usually crying and not actively looking for a booby-bulls-eye.
You ever look at those "natural" bottle toppers at the store and laugh thinking how they are nothing near "natural"? Yeah. They are. Totally not kidding. Totally real. Giant cylindrical block of a nipple perched on top of a puffy half circle of areola stamped into an enormous breasticle. Sound appealing?
Luckily, the only discomfort as of late is a feeling that I'm experiencing a "let down" - those of you who have lactated before will know exactly what I'm talking about. Essentially, when your child cries, your body responds by "letting down" your milk. Sounds romantic and natural, right? Wrong. When the let down comes, it feels like a skinhead has just kicked the inside of your chest with his BIG RED BOOTS.
When you have already had a child, it is more likely that you will experience lactation prior to giving birth. My boobalyns are telling me that I will be so lucky.
So, for now, I continue to smear stretchmark lotion all over myself and keep adding fun stuff like "breast pads" to my "need before the baby comes" list.
Friday, August 16, 2013
JOYS IN THE LITTLE THINGS.
Given that the Hub is driving an hour (one frickin' way) for work every day and I recently started my Leave of Absence (doesn't LoA make you think of "Sit on my Face"?) I need to release a few things into the webiverse. . .
* Laying down on my side relieves the contractions that seem to come whenever the baby has a kicking fit, I've been upright too long or I'm under too much stress.
* I love feeling the baby move, but let me be clear: it gets trying when it feels like he is trying to kick my belly button into an outie.
* The baby just rocked my world so hard that the iPad switched from upright to landscape view. He totally read my mind on that last bullet.
* Even if I am not working for a while, I am going to continue to keep getting up during the week. I want to keep a normal sleep schedule. Now, to find something I can fill in the time with. . . Crosswords, craft projects, reading. . .
* This actually isn't a freak show. By, it feels that way at times.
* Laying down on my side relieves the contractions that seem to come whenever the baby has a kicking fit, I've been upright too long or I'm under too much stress.
* I love feeling the baby move, but let me be clear: it gets trying when it feels like he is trying to kick my belly button into an outie.
* The baby just rocked my world so hard that the iPad switched from upright to landscape view. He totally read my mind on that last bullet.
* Even if I am not working for a while, I am going to continue to keep getting up during the week. I want to keep a normal sleep schedule. Now, to find something I can fill in the time with. . . Crosswords, craft projects, reading. . .
* This actually isn't a freak show. By, it feels that way at times.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
SEROIUS TOPICS CALL FOR SERIOUS POSTS.
Just a quick story from my time in the Clink. . .
On the afternoon of my first day, a second year OB came to administer a trans-vaginal ultrasound so that we could get a good idea of my cervical length. Really, they were looking for anything over 3cm. My previous measurement was 4.9. . . so the stitch was working.
This particular exam, however, wasn't to begin without some bumps. It is as if the OB wasn't even looking at her target - and as an amateur sharp shooter, I have to tell you that the more eyes on the target, the better the chance of hitting it!
Instead of gently guiding the probe into my vagina, she instead tried to force it through my clitoris. My Clitoris.
In my head, my evil voice was screaming. . "is that where yours is??" Instead of vocalizing, I simply started to raise my hips to help the OB get to the goal. Ahhhhhh.
It wasn't a good day to begin with - so really, this was all ICING.
On the afternoon of my first day, a second year OB came to administer a trans-vaginal ultrasound so that we could get a good idea of my cervical length. Really, they were looking for anything over 3cm. My previous measurement was 4.9. . . so the stitch was working.
This particular exam, however, wasn't to begin without some bumps. It is as if the OB wasn't even looking at her target - and as an amateur sharp shooter, I have to tell you that the more eyes on the target, the better the chance of hitting it!
Instead of gently guiding the probe into my vagina, she instead tried to force it through my clitoris. My Clitoris.
In my head, my evil voice was screaming. . "is that where yours is??" Instead of vocalizing, I simply started to raise my hips to help the OB get to the goal. Ahhhhhh.
It wasn't a good day to begin with - so really, this was all ICING.
AT ITS BEST AND WORSE. CONCOMITANTLY.
I learned the word: concomitant. I only learned it because when I was reading medical journals in the hospital, I wanted to make sure that I wasn't going to die due to concomitant usage of two tocolytic drugs. I did not.
This morning, I had what was probably the most comfortable sleep - in the last year. However, it was not without its drawbacks. I also managed to have one of the worst nightmares of my life. Somehow, it didn't hurt the physical comfort.
Let me tell you about my crazy.
The Hub and I went to visit his parents for a quiet visit and it turned out that they had invited the entire extended family to see us. No good - especially when I was supposed to be on bed rest. So, I said some choice words and then took off in the car - leaving the Hub to manage.
On my way out of his small hometown, I took a moment to go mountain biking in an alleyway (think city brick-lined alley.) As I rode through, I noticed that there were piles of dead livestock - horses, primarily. One, particularly, had a pile of baby horses just outside the entrace to their garage.
So, ever the cavalier, I strode into the garage to read the riot act to the owners. I got their sob story about being unable to care for the horses. . . of course, none of this was important once I was asked to "show" their new breed of miniature cows at the state fair.
The rest of the dream consisted of me struggling to pull on shiny new muck boots and practicing marching around the arena with a miniature cow in tow.
Now, you tell me. What the fuck does this have to do with anything?
This morning, I had what was probably the most comfortable sleep - in the last year. However, it was not without its drawbacks. I also managed to have one of the worst nightmares of my life. Somehow, it didn't hurt the physical comfort.
Let me tell you about my crazy.
The Hub and I went to visit his parents for a quiet visit and it turned out that they had invited the entire extended family to see us. No good - especially when I was supposed to be on bed rest. So, I said some choice words and then took off in the car - leaving the Hub to manage.
On my way out of his small hometown, I took a moment to go mountain biking in an alleyway (think city brick-lined alley.) As I rode through, I noticed that there were piles of dead livestock - horses, primarily. One, particularly, had a pile of baby horses just outside the entrace to their garage.
So, ever the cavalier, I strode into the garage to read the riot act to the owners. I got their sob story about being unable to care for the horses. . . of course, none of this was important once I was asked to "show" their new breed of miniature cows at the state fair.
The rest of the dream consisted of me struggling to pull on shiny new muck boots and practicing marching around the arena with a miniature cow in tow.
Now, you tell me. What the fuck does this have to do with anything?
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
PIMPIN' AIN'T EASY.
So, I have a saga to tell you. A week ago today, my child started to go absolutely jerk-face insane (read: I thought he was trying to kick out my side-wall.) I put my hand on my belly and noticed that the entirety was hard as a rock.
Uh-oh.
So, I waited and after it relaxed, it happened again. And again.
When I was to 6 in one hour, I called my OB. The office directed me to go immediately to the local high risk hospital. (My day was definitely deteriorating fast.) I cried and then got cleaned up and into the car.
Yes. This is the second time I drove myself to the hospital while having contractions. Thankfully (and not so thankfully, I do not feel contractions. But, we'll get to this later).
In triage, my check-in nurse remembered me. She had been my first contact and first nurse when I checked-in to have Mira. It was a sad moment. But, then, things started moving fast. . . doppler, ultrasound and then cervical check. My cervix is tender and it bleeds on contact. Doesn't that make you cringe? My cerclage was still in one piece (I'm not sure that is the right descriptor, but we'll go with it.)
An awesome nurse plunged an IV into my hand started fluids - though, I can tell you that as a 2+ gallon a day water drinker, I didn't need. I was given a shot of Terbutaline (a fast working tocolytic) and whisked upstairs to the Labor and Delivery floor. The "Terb" makes you feel like you are going to jump out of your skin. It makes you antsy and uncomfortable. But, it helps wane the contractions long enough to move you to another place.
In L&D, I was inspected again - by another OB and because I was already bleeding all over the place, they couldn't perform a Fetal Fibronectin test. If they could have, it would have shown if I was going to go into labor in the next two weeks or not. Yeah. My body likes to kill the easy road.
So, instead, they measured everything manually - and used a bedside ultrasound to tell me that my cervical length was 2. ALARM!
The Hub arrived and I started Magnesium. Again. This shit is still and will always be the worst shit in the world. Of course, I also received two shots (over two days) of Betamethazone for the baby's lungs. Those feel like like lava being forced through a needle and deep into your ass cheek. (The things we do for our babies!!)
Fast forward a day and I was wheeled down to PeriNatal for a high tech ultrasound scan. Yes. I was out of my gourd with the Magnesium, but, it was worth it. Our boy is long and strong and beautiful. And, the good news. . . my cervix measured 4.6. If you don't know, that is really long and perfect.
In another night, I was taken off the Mag and put on ProCardia - a high blood pressure medicine that has a lovely side effect as a tocolytic. Other than making me flush deep red with heat every six hours, it worked. By Friday, I was moved to the Ante Partum unit.
Now. . . this place, isn't where you want to be, but it is a step up from the L&D unit. The women on AP are there for the long haul. They are suffering all types of yuck from placenta previa to PTL. The nurses are there for companionship as well as guardianship. (Every single day, I thanked the universe for Colleen.)
Finally, on Sunday morning, I was wheeled down to PeriNatal again for another scan where they determined that my cervix had not changed. So, guess what? I got to go home on modified bedrest.
I can work for a couple hours and then take a break. So - I think this post counts as work. Right?
I will have weekly appointments with my OB and our goal is to make it through the beginning of September - to 28 weeks. We set small goals - they are more attainable.
I hope you have had a better week than I had.
Uh-oh.
So, I waited and after it relaxed, it happened again. And again.
When I was to 6 in one hour, I called my OB. The office directed me to go immediately to the local high risk hospital. (My day was definitely deteriorating fast.) I cried and then got cleaned up and into the car.
Yes. This is the second time I drove myself to the hospital while having contractions. Thankfully (and not so thankfully, I do not feel contractions. But, we'll get to this later).
In triage, my check-in nurse remembered me. She had been my first contact and first nurse when I checked-in to have Mira. It was a sad moment. But, then, things started moving fast. . . doppler, ultrasound and then cervical check. My cervix is tender and it bleeds on contact. Doesn't that make you cringe? My cerclage was still in one piece (I'm not sure that is the right descriptor, but we'll go with it.)
An awesome nurse plunged an IV into my hand started fluids - though, I can tell you that as a 2+ gallon a day water drinker, I didn't need. I was given a shot of Terbutaline (a fast working tocolytic) and whisked upstairs to the Labor and Delivery floor. The "Terb" makes you feel like you are going to jump out of your skin. It makes you antsy and uncomfortable. But, it helps wane the contractions long enough to move you to another place.
In L&D, I was inspected again - by another OB and because I was already bleeding all over the place, they couldn't perform a Fetal Fibronectin test. If they could have, it would have shown if I was going to go into labor in the next two weeks or not. Yeah. My body likes to kill the easy road.
So, instead, they measured everything manually - and used a bedside ultrasound to tell me that my cervical length was 2. ALARM!
The Hub arrived and I started Magnesium. Again. This shit is still and will always be the worst shit in the world. Of course, I also received two shots (over two days) of Betamethazone for the baby's lungs. Those feel like like lava being forced through a needle and deep into your ass cheek. (The things we do for our babies!!)
Fast forward a day and I was wheeled down to PeriNatal for a high tech ultrasound scan. Yes. I was out of my gourd with the Magnesium, but, it was worth it. Our boy is long and strong and beautiful. And, the good news. . . my cervix measured 4.6. If you don't know, that is really long and perfect.
In another night, I was taken off the Mag and put on ProCardia - a high blood pressure medicine that has a lovely side effect as a tocolytic. Other than making me flush deep red with heat every six hours, it worked. By Friday, I was moved to the Ante Partum unit.
Now. . . this place, isn't where you want to be, but it is a step up from the L&D unit. The women on AP are there for the long haul. They are suffering all types of yuck from placenta previa to PTL. The nurses are there for companionship as well as guardianship. (Every single day, I thanked the universe for Colleen.)
Finally, on Sunday morning, I was wheeled down to PeriNatal again for another scan where they determined that my cervix had not changed. So, guess what? I got to go home on modified bedrest.
I can work for a couple hours and then take a break. So - I think this post counts as work. Right?
I will have weekly appointments with my OB and our goal is to make it through the beginning of September - to 28 weeks. We set small goals - they are more attainable.
I hope you have had a better week than I had.
Monday, August 5, 2013
MILESTONE DAYS.
Here we are on another fine Monday morning. Let's not kid ourselves, people. Mondays blow and forever will. The only thing that perks me up today is this: Per our original calculations, I have officially made it past the gestational age that I gave birth to Mira. Last Tuesday came and went with a flourish that only a work conference can bring. And the food sucked. Don't get me started.
I have started to get the hormones - sounds like a real disease when you say it like that. Last Wednesday afternoon, I cried when I found a tiny spider vein on my belly. Friday, I cried because I was so tired and then I cried harder when my nose began to bleed and I only noticed it after I had chuffed it all over my desk and laptop screen. Do you know what an ugly cry looks like when you are leaking snot, tears and blood all at once? I'll step back a moment and let you laugh that one out.
I'm not more rested today than I am on Friday, but I feel better. Perhaps it was sleeping in until 930 on the weekend. It could have been the fact that I put my feet up for most of the weekend. Or, I'm thinking the lack of work. . . that usually does it. Whatever the reason, I feel better.
Because I know that the better feeling never lasts, here are a few thoughts and ideas I will reflect on to get me through the next week:
* When older gentlemen notice your Bump and then proceed to wickedly smile and make a comment on your pregnancy, I suspect it is because they know you put out.
* No one has touched my belly, unwelcomed. This either speaks volumes on the advancement of social convention OR the fact that I'm a scary looking monster.
* I am thankful that no friends, who are privy to my ever-growing secret, have spilled the beans on FB or anywhere else.
* Speaking of FB, the Hub and I have an appointment on Thursday, during which we will have another giant ultrasound to try to determine the actual gestational age of the pregnancy. Afterwards, we will likely, finally, announce the pregancy. FaceBook Official. Oh-fiss-ee-AL.
* My upper back has been causing me great discomfort. Do you know who this makes me think of? Otto Titsling. Seriously. Look him up.
* The Hub is still looking for a new job. I feel like if I focus my energy on that, he will get one sooner. You should help, too. =)
It's Monday. Give yourself something to smile about today. Go somewhere nice for lunch, give yourself an extra 30 minutes of sitting somewhere quiet for no reason, or accept someone's compliment and really believe them.
I have started to get the hormones - sounds like a real disease when you say it like that. Last Wednesday afternoon, I cried when I found a tiny spider vein on my belly. Friday, I cried because I was so tired and then I cried harder when my nose began to bleed and I only noticed it after I had chuffed it all over my desk and laptop screen. Do you know what an ugly cry looks like when you are leaking snot, tears and blood all at once? I'll step back a moment and let you laugh that one out.
I'm not more rested today than I am on Friday, but I feel better. Perhaps it was sleeping in until 930 on the weekend. It could have been the fact that I put my feet up for most of the weekend. Or, I'm thinking the lack of work. . . that usually does it. Whatever the reason, I feel better.
Because I know that the better feeling never lasts, here are a few thoughts and ideas I will reflect on to get me through the next week:
* When older gentlemen notice your Bump and then proceed to wickedly smile and make a comment on your pregnancy, I suspect it is because they know you put out.
* No one has touched my belly, unwelcomed. This either speaks volumes on the advancement of social convention OR the fact that I'm a scary looking monster.
* I am thankful that no friends, who are privy to my ever-growing secret, have spilled the beans on FB or anywhere else.
* Speaking of FB, the Hub and I have an appointment on Thursday, during which we will have another giant ultrasound to try to determine the actual gestational age of the pregnancy. Afterwards, we will likely, finally, announce the pregancy. FaceBook Official. Oh-fiss-ee-AL.
* My upper back has been causing me great discomfort. Do you know who this makes me think of? Otto Titsling. Seriously. Look him up.
* The Hub is still looking for a new job. I feel like if I focus my energy on that, he will get one sooner. You should help, too. =)
It's Monday. Give yourself something to smile about today. Go somewhere nice for lunch, give yourself an extra 30 minutes of sitting somewhere quiet for no reason, or accept someone's compliment and really believe them.
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