After having spent the previous day on my feet way too much, I woke up Sunday morning having some mad Braxton-Hicks contractions. As in, while standing in church, my thoughts were "We might be having a baby today." Thankfully, by the time we went home and I was able to get off my feet for awhile the contractions went away. So, woohoo, no early baby.
However, the remainder of that week was full of a much larger number of contractions with an increasing intensity unlike what had been going on up until that point. Things began to reach a boiling point around Thursday afternoon. Previously, sitting down would make the pains stop. Not anymore. So, Josh and I made a last minute trip to JoAnn's to buy fabric for Charleigh's big sister shirt so that we could make it that night in case something were to happen. (There are priorities, right?)
Friday morning, April 9th, 5:00 a.m. - The contractions are pretty rough now. I convince my dad and Josh to install the car seat just in case. You know, 'cause it's not like I won't spend at least 48 hours in the hospital post c-section or anything. It needed to be done right then. Oh, pregnancy brain, how I miss thee. But I digress.
I have an appointment scheduled for 2:00 that afternoon for my weekly checkup. The plan is to simply wait and get checked out then. By about 7:45, I am on the phone with my mom telling her that I am going to try and get in sooner. The contractions aren't stopping and I decided that I didn't want to be trying to get help at 5:00 on a Friday afternoon. When the doctor's office opens at 8, I call and tell them what is going on. I am told to just come on in and they will see me.
Wanting to be prepared, I jump into the shower with Charleigh and proceed to get ready. Showering with a 3 year old during contractions proved to be much more difficult than I thought. But we made it through and I got ready. I mean, completely ready. Hair, makeup, cute outfit, the whole shebang. If I am going to meet my child today, I want to be prepared.
See? I even stopped for a picture. It was all very methodical and organized.
I also arrange for Charleigh to head to my friend Susie's house (with all her stuff) and my mom comes home from work to go with me to the doctor. By the time we drop the munchkin off and arrive at the office, the contractions are still about 8-10 minutes apart. Mind you, however, I'm not supposed to really go into labor with the placenta previa and all.
When I arrive, there are two other women in the waiting room, also in labor. Wild morning in the office to say the least. When I'm called back and get to see the doctor, she quickly assesses me and declares that I am going to be sent to the birthing center so they can stop my labor.
Huh? What? I'm past the 37 week mark. Isn't it all good from here?
Her exact words to me were, "I'm not ready for this baby to come yet."
I was crushed to say the least. Actually, near hysterics upset would be a much more accurate description. I don't consider myself to be a baby about pain, but I was seriously hurting that day. So, sobbing all the way, I went over and checked into the birthing center.
The next eight hours consisted of fluids, anti-nausea meds, and eventually turbuteline to make the (regular and totally real) contractions stop. It was a long and awful day. The meds made my heart race and made me feel really jumpy. Not fun at all. My doctor was great though. She came to see my twice while I was there and was very thorough in making sure I understood what they were doing and why.
When my body had finally calmed down and I could see through a clear head, I completely agreed with their decision. I was basically told that although the books say 37 weeks is "full-term" there is still a risk for lung maturity problems, especially if it was a boy. So, I was glad that they were being careful with my child's health. I realized once I felt better, that I wasn't so much upset in the beginning about not giving birth that day as I was scared that they were going to send me home feeling as bad as I did when I came in.
Thankfully, I walked out the door that evening pain free. And after hearing from my doctor that "you're pregnant and these contractions are just a part of the deal. You will probably remain quite uncomfortable until delivery" I became determined. Okay, I could do this. Just 11 days to go and it would all be over. I would be holding my child and everything would be great.
This is how I approached the following week. Little did I know how much it would affect what would eventually become Cereal's real birthday........
1 comment:
you are too funny! and a wonderful story teller. Keep it comin'!
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