Friday, August 23, 2013

Seven Quick Baby Takes: Adventures in L&D Triage Edition

Okay, so a (not very) brief "Why I haven't been blogging" tangent.

On Thursday, we spent about 5 hours at Mass. See, it was a Dominican simple profession Mass, because we go to a parish with Dominicans. The Schola was singing, because that's what they do. Middle Younger Brother and The Only Sister aren't officially part of the Schola this year, but they pitched in for the profession Mass. (Normally there is 1 tenor and 2 basses, so MYB was especially appreciated.)

Scott's mother had some kind of super-important errands to run, so she begged me to give MYB and TOS a ride to practice. I said I'd do it as long as they got dropped off at our apartment. (Due to the arrangement of house-apartment-church, picking them up from their house would have added 20-30 minutes to my drive.) So they were dropped off and we set out and managed to get there ALMOST on time even though I accidentally started driving to a different church at first.

So, 0.5 hours of driving, 1.5 hours of practice, 1.5 hours of Mass, a brief pit stop at the parish center for cookies and lemonade, and then 0.5 hours driving home. (We abandoned MYB and TOS at church because other family members could take them home.) Pretend that adds up to 5 hours, because it totally did.

Then I took a nap while Scott shaved his mustache and did whatever else he does--he had taken the day off because there was no good way to work around Mass. (He didn't shave his mustache off, he just trimmed it. He shaved it off one time and I told him if he did it again I'd stop kissing him until it grew back. I haven't got anything against clean-shaven, but he was mustached for the first year or so that we were married and I don't like changing my habits.)

Then we went to Liza Jane's for dinner. James (Liza's husband) was there, of course, as was Grace, who loves me better but was visiting Liza just this once. ;) We had fun and got home at the semi-reasonable hour of 10:30.

On Friday Scott went to work and came home at his usual time but then telecommuted for about 3 additional hours, because something blew up on some server somewhere. I made pizza and brought him some in the middle of that.

That night I woke up at 2 a.m. with really terrible heartburn and didn't go to sleep again until 6. (And then woke up for the day at 7:30, because my ancestors were dairy farmers. Stupid ancestors.) Tums did nothing, nor did sitting upright. So I just moped for 4 hours, basically. Tad did have a little dance party to keep me company, which was nice of him, considering that he's stealing all my stomach space.

Scott did get to sleep in until about noon, but nonetheless we were both looking forward to sleeping in on Sunday.

I woke up for a bathroom break at about 1 a.m. Sunday and Scott was still typity-typing in the living room. He said he was coming to bed soon and I said, "Hey, at least you get to sleep in tomorrow" and then shuffled back to bed.

At 4 a.m. I woke up for another bathroom break and felt weirdly uncomfortable. I will refrain from describing that any further for the sake of readers who are male and/or squeamish. I told myself that it was probably just a Pregnancy Is Weird thing and went to the bathroom, where I found quite a bit of bright red blood.

Yeah. Not within the realm of "Well, pregnancy is weird."

So I went back to the bedroom and woke Scott up and laid down and had him bring me his cell phone and very calmly called 911. As soon as I hung up I started shaking and having to try not to cry, though. I like having stuff to DO in a crisis and "lie still and don't eat or drink anything" is not really DOING much.

One ambulance ride later we were in L&D with a very nice nurse and after a while of the computer being slow or something I was finally admitted and put on the monitors and we got to hear Tad's little heart beating steadily away. That was a relief, let me tell you. Also, this kid is hilarious, because he kept hitting the monitors, which, as it turns out, make a sound like a dropped microphone when they're punched vigorously. So it'd go "thump-thump-thump-fwoosh-BANG-thump-thump-thump" and so on in that manner for half an hour.

Then the resident came in and checked me over (cervical checks are WEIRD, can I just say that?) and then went off to look at things on slides and we were left to sit there without even an angry monitored baby to keep us entertained. Fortunately we didn't have to wait long, and as it turned out I had bacterial and yeast infections. But my cervix was as it should be and I wasn't having any contractions, so yay! I got some prescriptions and orders to "rest as much as possible" and follow-up with my doctor at my next appointment. (Next Tuesday. If it had been farther away than that I think they would have made me schedule a separate follow-up.)

As it turned out, Scott's parents were with MYB at college orientation in Kentucky, so they couldn't exactly swing by and pick us up. Fortunately we managed to get ahold of EYB and he came and picked us up and didn't even keep Scott talking in the parking lot for an hour.

We ended up staying home from church because I didn't feel up to sitting through Mass. (Not to mention, I was supposed to be resting as much as possible.) Then Scott worked from home on Monday because he was feeling a little worn out from the events of the day before, plus I didn't really want to be alone. I made him carry my laundry basket and our giant bottle of detergent up and down the stairs so I could do laundry. (That was another thing on my discharge papers, no heavy lifting.) Otherwise I tried to leave him alone so he could, you know, work.

I was feeling much better by Wednesday, but I think God wanted me to keep resting for another day or two because I woke up from my nap that day with the worst sciatic nerve pain ever. Like, couldn't put weight on my left leg. It was bad.

Thursday I had therapy and needed to run an errand so I did those things (slowly and limpingly) and then came home and sobbed in frustration on account of being in so much pain. Fortunately it did ease up after a few hours of rest and a good bit of Tylenol, and I was clear-headed enough to think, "Maybe that new body pillow I just started using is throwing off my alignment."

So I reverted to my random assortment of throw pillows last night, and I have felt much better today. Therefore the poor new body pillow is on probation until further notice. And my kitchen is really messy.

I've been doing informal kick counts this week, even though I'm not really supposed to until closer to 28 weeks. Tad doesn't go for the whole "How about I eat something sugary and lie down, will you move?" thing (sometimes it works and sometimes he kicks me once, irritably, and goes back to sleep), so I try to be aware of when he moves throughout the day and note it down.

My discharge papers says that you should be able to feel 10 movements in an hour. Tad's hit that several times a day, every day, and sometimes he can get 10 movements in in as little as 5 minutes. (That was today, when I was trying to take a nap. And they weren't little movements either; he was enthusiastically moving his whole body back and forth.)

I love it, but I am also a little afraid of never sleeping again.

Teresa has taken the news of Tad being a boy much more stoically than I would have expected. I mean, she was still disappointed that Matthew was a boy and praying almost daily for this baby to be a girl, and then the ultrasound said "boy." I am told that she did some muttering during prayer time that night, but a few days later she said she was happy it was a boy, though she wouldn't be sad if it turned out to be a girl instead. (Apparently she's still holding out for "ultrasounds aren't 100% accurate".) Then when we visited about 2 weeks ago she spent the whole weekend talking to my belly and kissing it and patting it and asking questions about the baby. (She was horrified by the idea that he doesn't breathe. I had to explain how oxygen gets transported through blood and I'm not sure she really got it.) (No, I didn't go into the fact that he inhales amniotic fluid; I don't want her to be afraid that he'll drown or something.)

I now have a "Baby todolist" word document, which has made no progress because I've been busy dealing with crises. Still, I am trying to deal with my "Less than 4 months!" anxiety by overplanning, so does anybody have ideas for things I can/should do before the baby comes?

I also need to start making a list of things to discuss at my next prenatal. I hope the doctor doesn't have anyplace to be because I need to follow up to my L&D visit and discuss the glucose tolerance test (which is complicated by the fact that I'm still taking Metformin) and I kind of wanted to ask if he had any pediatrician recommendations because I like the "crunch" level at my OB's office and figured they know some nice semi-crunchy pediatricians.

All that is to say, I'm wrapping up these takes even though I can't remember everything I wanted to talk about, because I have Stuff To Do.

And here is a belly picture for your comparing pleasure. 12 and 16 weeks are here; 20 weeks is here. And this is 24 weeks:

I am not sure I really look any bigger than I did at 20 weeks, but it could just be that I keep switching outfits on y'all and therefore making comparisons difficult. I definitely look pregnant and not just fat in real life, because I've gotten three different comments about it in the past few weeks--most recently a pharmacist who told me I couldn't drink while on antibiotics, but... and trailed off. I helped him out with, "But I wouldn't be doing that anyway" and paid for my prescription.

Also, my bellybutton has been getting progressively shallower. I am observing this process with fascination and will make sure to keep you guys posted.

For more Quick Takes, visit Conversion Diary!

1 comment:

Shakespeare's Cobbler said...

Re. take 1 and "ALMOST on time", I walked in at the very beginning of opening prayer, so I was just barely on time... If I recall correct you walked in after me, you were barely almost on time, not that it matters so much since you weren't singing. I don't remember if my siblings walked in before or after me.