Song Lyric of the Day:
You’ve been my queen for longer than you know / My love for you has been / Every step I take, every day I live, everything I see
One eskimO / “Kandi“
Things have been really crazy lately, which is why my poor little blog here has been neglected. So no sooner was I finally going to update about all the work that we’ve been doing on both the old and the new house and how the old house is thisclose to being ready for showings and about how one of my best friends is coming into town tomorrow to help my other best friends and sis-in-law throw our baby shower this weekend than life threw us another curveball. Which is why I’m writing this from a hospital bed — because either my body or my kid decided that little Miss Coraline Olivia should try to make her first appearance in the world at 32 weeks and 3 days.
I went into preterm labor yesterday morning. The day started off well enough. I already had a scheduled 32-week checkup, at which we were going to get our first biophysical profile to get an idea of how big Coraline is (4.5 lbs.). I have gestational diabetes — controlled by medication and cutting down on my beloved carbs — so the doc wanted to make sure the baby is a good size. (The receptionist thought I was only 20 weeks pregnant, not 32, which was a nice boost to the ego.) Rich was with me since he wanted to be there for the ultrasound; we enjoyed seeing how much fuller her cheeks are now than they were for her 3-D pics. Now when you see her little face it’s not just NOSE! but CHEEKS! and DARK HAIR! She’s quite the cutie, if I say so myself. As planned, Rich left after the ultrasound because we’d been told ahead of time the appointment would take about an hour, so he went on to work. I got hooked up for a non-stress test and enjoyed listening to Cora’s heartbeat and hiccups for 20 minutes while I read my book. When the technician came back, she asked me if I noticed that I was having contractions. Say whaaaaaat?! So THIS is how women end up on TV shows like I Didn’t Know I Was Knocked Up Until I Gave Birth on the Toilet. That would be a resounding NO — all I’d been feeling were kicks and movement, no cramping or pain. I was then taken back to an exam room where the doc checked out my cervix — oh, the fun. She said it felt fine, but there was a bit of blood. Then I was sent back to the ultrasound room for another ultrasound, this time to measure my cervix. It looked good, so then it was back to the exam room for another consult with the doc. Then it was back to get another non-stress test, which ended up recording more contractions. Talked with the doc, sent across the hall to Labor & Delivery (L&D), and commenced trying not to freak the hell out.
By this point, I’d already called Rich and asked him to let my boss know what was going on and that I wasn’t sure when I’d get in to work. Rich was also beginning to freak out, but I told him to try to stay calm until we knew more. Once in L&D, I had what was probably the most painful IV insertion ever, so painful I began sobbing; the fact that it took several minutes didn’t help, either. Of course, part of the hysterical crying was due to the fact that my baby was possibly going to be born sooner than we needed for her to be. It wasn’t until after the 20-gauge needle was shoved in and taped in place that I was told that the nurse who did it was working there again after having left to work in an office for awhile, and getting refamiliarized with everything. So happy I could be her first guinea pig. Not.
They gave me a shot of terbutaline, which didn’t stop the contractions. I also got a shot — in the butt, no less — of the steroid betamethasone to help rapidly mature Coraline’s lungs in case she succeeded in her breakout attempt. They gave me a procardia pill to try to stop the contractions. I got a second shot of terbutaline, which again didn’t stop the contractions. I got another cervical exam; I swear, I haven’t taken my pants off so much in such a short period of time since our vacation in Uruguay. Later when the doc saw my chart readout still dotted with contractions she made the call to send me to UT Medical Center. Via ambulance, no less.
The call I made from the ambulance is the one that made Rich finish completely freaking out. We agreed to not call our families right away until we knew more — no point in getting everyone else scared if we didn’t have to. He updated our bosses and headed home to gather a few things for me. His sis, K, was able to meet him at our house and helped feed and walk the dogs, and then they both headed to the hospital to see me.
By this point, it was around dinnertime. All I’d had to eat all day was my usual glass of orange juice at about 7:30AM, along with my prenatal vitamins and calcium supplement. Little did I know all I’d get to eat the rest of the day would be two sugar-free popsicles. You know how sometimes you can get so hungry you end up beyond hungry, your appetite gone even though you know you’d be able to eat if presented with food? That’s where I was by nightfall.
After getting hooked up to another IV, this time by an experienced nurse with an even bigger 18-gauge needle, I read some more of my book and channel surfed while waiting for the on-call doc to check me out and come up with a plan of action. By this time, I actually felt a couple of contractions, so I ended up paging someone to try and hurry the whole consult thing along. I finally saw the doctor, got another procardia pill, which ended up plunging my blood pressure too low, leading them to then give me a magnesium IV.
Last night was a blur, with me being woken up every hour or hour and a half due to IV alarms going off, getting the TOCO monitor readjusted because I’d turned onto my side, finger pricks to check my blood sugar level, and so on. All that added up to very little sleep, which made me glad I’d insisted Rich go home to sleep. Not only would he have been exhausted today, he would’ve likely had a sore back from sleeping on my room’s futon, too. I was unceremoniously woken up this morning for another cervical ultrasound (again — fun!). The good news is that the fort is holding up — no dilation to speak of, so despite the contractions, there’s no escape route for Coraline. I got taken off the magnesium IV today and switched to the procardia pill again; today my blood pressure withstood it, and I’ve been on that for most of the day. The contractions are farther and farther apart, and much weaker than they were. I only really notice I’m having one if I hear Cora’s heartbeat speed up. Fingers crossed, they’ll stop completely by tomorrow and I’ll get to go home soon. I miss my husband, my furkids, and my house. It’d also be great if I got released in time for my baby shower. If I can’t make it, I’ve ordered Rich to go, and we might webcam me in so I can “see” everyone that way. Gotta embrace the technology we’ve got, right?
And now that I’ve enjoyed my usual nightcap — chocolate milk — thanks to a good blood-sugar reading, I’m going to try to wind down for the night. After a sleepy, dozy day during which Rich, my mom, my sister and my nephew visited, I got a second wind late in the day. I chalk it up to the Five Guys cheeseburger my mom and sis brought me. Because when you’re dealing with preterm labor, counting carbs falls by the wayside. The ensuing high blood-sugar reading was totally worth it.
I’d rather be almost anywhere else tonight than in this hospital room, but it’s worth it to make sure Coraline stays in for just a bit longer; I thank God that I’d already had that appointment scheduled, because from what the docs and nurses have told me, by the time I’d noticed the contractions on my own, we likely would have been unable to stop her from arriving early. The goal now is to keep her in until at least 34 weeks, then 36 weeks, and so on — the longer, the better. I’m hoping I don’t get sentenced to bedrest, but if I do, at least I can work remotely from home (I can hear my boss shaking her head already).
Regardless of what the docs say, I’ll do it. It’s worth it to keep my little girl as healthy as possible. While Rich and I can’t wait to meet her, we’re more than happy to wait a few more weeks to make sure she’s really ready.
