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.
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