So I'm officially joining the scores of women to embark on the thrilling adventure called Bedrest (maybe mind-numbing is a better description). I thought I'd use this "opportunity" to give blogging a try as a way to share what's going on with friends and family and as a way for me to remember all the crazy adventures of becoming a mom.
I suppose the best place to start is with how I got to where I am today...the couch. Last Friday, Peter and I went to the doctor for a routine check on the babe. Nothing of note really. Regular heart-rate, no contractions, pretty boring to be honest. Then we climbed into the car to take Peter to work. While we were stopped at a light a very friendly, Russian man decided to smash into the back of Peter's car. My first thought was "Fabulous, we'll get that little dent on Peter's bumper replaced!" My second thought was, "Is this a contraction?" I grabbed Peter hand and put it to my belly to show him and make sure I wasn't losing my mind.
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| (One of the holes in Peter's bumper) |
After getting the appropriate info from our new Russian friend, I called the doctor who said to come right back. (About now is when you should start feeling bad for Peter as I'm just a typical, hormonal, starving pregnant wife. I think he handled things pretty well.) So back at the doctors they hooked me up to the Richter Scale. (Also known as the Fetal Monitor). This scale has two sensors one for the baby's heart and one to monitor contractions.
We previously learned how to read the rises and falls of the scale and watch the monitor tape. After just a few minutes it became obvious that this would be a more exciting trip...There was a solid mountain range being drawn by the sensor monitoring my contractions. After about 45 minutes of contractions about 5 mins apart a very nice nurse appeared with a wheelchair...just for me!
We previously learned how to read the rises and falls of the scale and watch the monitor tape. After just a few minutes it became obvious that this would be a more exciting trip...There was a solid mountain range being drawn by the sensor monitoring my contractions. After about 45 minutes of contractions about 5 mins apart a very nice nurse appeared with a wheelchair...just for me!
I climbed into my new ride and Peter and I headed over to the hospital. When we got there I was "examined" and turns out the babe was all in position (it's comforting to know when the day comes she knows what to do, but THIS was NOT the day). I was again hooked up to the Richtor Scale for about an hour. Since my contractions didn't slow down, I was given a shot of Terbuteral to slow things down. It worked and a mere 3 hours, one gross hospital pizza and about 50 feet of monitoring paper, we were allowed to leave.
Luckily, that night I felt great! The next two days...still fabulous! I called my doctor to try to get out of my Wednesday appointment, but those darn cautious doctors INSISTED that I come in. I clearly explained how I was fine, but they never listen.
So in I went, got hooked back up to the monitor and suddenly my heart dropped...the mountain range of contractions that had appeared last week were reappearing. The nurse showed the doctor and before I knew it, my hospital chariot was waiting for me again. I was doing pretty well until the kind, well-meaning nurse asked if I wanted to have my husband meet me over there and then I kind of lost it. (Luckily, they're trained to deal with this right?) Yes I WOULD like to have him meet me there, but he's in California for work so this adventure would be for just the baby girl and me.
Off I went, back to the hospital. Contractions continuing all the while. When I got there I was monitored, then given one more shot of Tributaline to stop the contractions. After about 2 hours, I was informed that I had an infection and that I needed to take antibiotics and take it easy, but I could go home. I would need to return on Friday.
Friday rolls around, Peter is back (thank goodness), and we head to the doctors praying that I wouldn't be transported to the hospital again. The doctor on call was incredibly patient and understanding. Unfortunately, the contractions hadn't stopped, but he said I didn't need to go back to the hospital. Even though the babe was still in the "ready" position. He said I could take some medication if I wanted or I could go home and continue this bedrest. Also, apparently I didn't have an infection so I could toss those antibiotic that I absolutely hated taking.
So now here we are. Me on the couch, the babe bounding around in my belly, and Peter (who thought me being on bedrest meant he'd have a bunch of downtime) holding down the house entertaining his adoring wife.
