Open Wide

It was one of those long, hot days of summer, made longer by my 35 week appointment this afternoon and the maternity tour at the hospital this evening.  Somewhere in the day I left my cell phone in a class.  Since the teachers and I left about 15-20 minutes after school got out, I didn't bother going back for it.  There is some mild anxiety about not having my cell phone, lame as that sounds.  Aside from having everyone's numbers, I use the calendar to track my plans.  Moreover, I often play Scrabble or some version of solitaire before falling asleep at night.  Perhaps most importantly, I use the alarm to make sure I get up in the morning.  Our regular alarm clock is across the room.  Normally that's great, but ever since dealing with that torn hip muscle, getting out of bed for the alarm seems like cruel and unusual punishment.


After visiting classes and employers all morning, I headed back to the office for a meeting.  Between the heat and our office chairs, my feet have swollen beyond recognition.  At one point, the skin on top of my left foot was shiny.  Gross!  And I got shiny, swollen feet because of what all-important meeting?  Oh, you know... the one for the freaking brochure committee.  So, at least it was worthwhile.


Next stop was the doctor's office.  Normally I'm in and out, but from what I gathered, Doc was very likely performing a D & C on a woman, so things got backed up.  Once the receptionist blabbed to someone on the phone that "he's doing a procedure," the mood in the room changed.  There were two men sitting with us, and it didn't take long to figure out who the "lucky" guy was.  Doc called him back and, although he spoke quietly, I think we all heard the, "I'm sorry."  As he and the woman left, I had a hard time not breaking into tears.  I have been in her painful shoes.


Once we were in the exam room and I was naked from the waist down (Group B Strep test today), Doc walked in.  We always exchange pleasantries.  Part of me wanted to say, "Rough day, huh?"  But I figured it wasn't my place to bring up this other woman.  So instead I asked about his vacation last week.  He started off in my hometown, San Diego.  I wanted to hear more about it, but he came over, laid the table back and examined Fynn and me.  She's head down, though not engaged, and he estimates her to be around 6 pounds.  She measures 38 weeks, which he thought was great.  Her heartbeat was a little tricky to find, but she'd been moving all over just a minute before so I wasn't too worried.  Eventually he did find it and she sounded beautiful.


Then he went to the end of the table and told me, "Open wide."


It was all I could do not to say, "Ahh."  And thinking about it made me laugh.  Laughing isn't exactly something you want to be doing when someone's swabbing your rectum.  Especially not if you're dealing with lovely pregnancy side effects, like hemorrhoids.  That's right, I'll say it.  The man stabbed me in a 'roid before getting the job done.  Nice.  Thanks, Doc.


After all the technical stuff was handled, we asked our questions.  We didn't have a lot.  Tom asked, "What's it like when you deliver a baby?"  One thing we learned that I was very happy about, is that he will remind me to watch the baby being born.  That was probably the one thing I'd do differently about Mad's delivery (what came next, of course, I'd change a bunch of different ways).


This evening Tom and I went on the hospital tour.  Someone was laboring away in the very room where Mad took her first breaths.  Whenever I am near that door, I want to go in.  If someone else is there, I want to talk with them and tell them how wonderful it is to share this space with them.  I wonder if they know to open the blinds so they can see the enormous pepper tree outside.


Tom and I both feel a connection with the room.  Does that seem odd?  As we stood outside it, listening to which rooms were for what purposes, he mentioned that maybe we could request room 149 if it's available when we go in.


Then we saw what an actual labor, delivery, recovery and postpartum room is like.  Holy moly!  Turns out we got placed in what used to be an "alternate birthing room" back in the day.  Now they just use them if the others are full.  That's why a few hours after Mad was born and we'd seen her off to the NICU, they moved me to a room in the "maternity" section.  I had no idea!  If I end up in an LDRP room this time, I probably will use the shower as a soother.  It's a nice size  The other bathroom was claustrophobic.  It was a tiny shower, sink and toilet, with the wall maybe 12-15 inches in front of it.  The only good thing was that they'd put a bar on that wall, which came in handy during contractions.


In the nursery we saw a two day old baby.  Adorable.  All of the stories we heard about what they do with babies under normal circumstances made me hope even harder to have a baby without complications this time.  I've been telling Tom that I really want to bring her home with us when I leave.  Like he doesn't, right?  But having a baby go into the NICU has apparently shaken my normally reasonable expectations that everything will be alright.


After the tour, we picked up Mad and brought her home.  Tom took over Mad duties while I went to work re-organizing the loft.  Mad's baby clothes were everywhere.  Since I'd asked my mom to come up and be here when Corey got out of school, she (quite naturally) assumed she was spending the night.  I didn't have any thoughts of the sort, so the sleeper sofa was buried.  But now it is ready for her, and my bed is ready for me.  Hopefully the morning will bring smaller feet and then the return of my phone! 

In Which I Don't Look Like A Complete Idiot

There were two fatal car crashes on the road between me and everywhere else yesterday.  It caused Tom to be about three hours late to work.  As I drove down an extremely hilly and twisty alternate (thanks for the warning, hun!), I pondered making this sort of drive in labor.  Doesn't seem like it would be fun.


I dropped off Corey and Mad and went about my morning.  When I got to my office I realized I'd been having a lot more Braxton Hicks contractions than usual.  They're easily noticeable this time because, for some reason, they tend to knock the wind out of me.  Around 11:45 I was talking with a coworker who had to make a similar drive recently.  It wasn't a stressed out, drama-filled conversation.  We were laughing about how her kids had car sickness and that they kept pulling over near these beautiful vistas with kissing couples... so the kids could get out and puke.  (We're bad mamas, I guess.)


As I stood there, I realized I was having a painful contraction.  It lasted maybe 20 seconds.  I chalked it up to standing around (which normally just makes me feel woozy) and went to sit down.  They kept coming.  I thought maybe I needed to go to the bathroom.  Nope.  Maybe I needed to eat something?  I left to get lunch, but along the way I realized that the contractions were coming every three minutes and lasting 30-40 seconds.  I called Tom, my doctor (no answering service?  really?) and labor and delivery.  Then I let Tom know where I'd be, called Nance and asked her to meet me there and headed over.


The whole time I was revving up to go, I worried about several things.  One, what if I really just needed to poop?  Two, what if it was just me trying to get in on the whole "I had to go to Labor and Delivery" thing that I've read so much about lately on this particular pregnancy board that I frequent.  Or three, what if I'm just an attention whore?


On the other hand, I was exactly two months from my due date and couldn't fathom driving home and worrying all weekend.


I got to L& D.  Of course, the really painful contractions had subsided.  Just like going to a mechanic, I swear! 


The first nurse who helped me was the same one who'd answered my tearful call.  The second one was "Call Me Phil."  Turns out she doesn't wear any rings.  She just has tiny little hands with short fingers and ginormous knuckles.


At first nothing was registering.  Then the nurse came in and said I'd had several (I can't remember right now if she said four or six) contractions in half an hour.  This was just as Tom was arriving.  So they did this fetal fibronectin test, which tells if a woman is likely to go into labor in the next two weeks.  In case you were wondering, it's like a pap smear.  While you're in pain and freaking out... and while you're "resting" up on a bedpan.  I loved it (but you wouldn't like it... try not to have one, 'kay?).  She also checked to see if I was dilating.


I was not dilated and the test came back negative.  But I was still contracting, so they gave me a shot of brethane, which worked the first time (thank goodness, because I already felt bad enough before I got the side effects).


Once everything had calmed down, our moods lifted.  We had done a little joking here and there throughout, but one thing came up that made Nancy and I laugh like crazy*.  The nurse came running in and asked if I had felt anything else.  Only Braxton Hicks contractions.  I mentioned we'd been laughing and she said, "Don't laugh, it affects the monitoring."  Note to self.


*Nancy and I have a long-standing joke about taking six mints whenever they're offered.  Why?  Because every time I have Altoids, they're gone in a day if Tom's around.  He doesn't really take six at one time, but he plows through them.  I needed one yesterday and asked Tom to grab them from my purse.  I took one, Nancy took one and then we tried to hold in our laughter as he kept pulling them out of the box.  Probably one of those "funnier if you were there" sort of moments, but that was the deal.