Home sweet home

I am so grateful to be at home finally. I don't know what it is... the loss of the toco, that canyon of a hospital bed, the constant taking of vitals, or the icky food - but I feel so much better here at home. I am having considerably fewer contractions, unless of course, I am just not noticing them. My hips are sore at night from the switch back to our bed, but I think I found the right pillow combo last night. The only problem is that at night, I am getting dizzy and winded from the meds. My mom and I were figuring that I am more relaxed at home, dropping my blood pressure even further. Needless to say, it is a little upsetting to be dizzy when you are already on your side. I know there is some risk if my BP really bails, so I hope to get some answers to solve this soon. Perhaps even spacing my meds out an extra hour. It is tricky, because I often break through with contractions right before my last dose. Double edged sword.

I see my new doctor this evening (I had to find another doc to be my primary who delivers at my new hospital and takes my insurance.) I called for an appointment this morning and spoke to the kindest of all receptionists ever. They could just squeeze me in on wednesday - which was terribly inconvenient because I have already patched together a couple friends to babysit me while DH is at work. I was a little upset to ask them to also haul me to the doctor. But a few minutes later the kindest receptionist ever called back with a cancellation for this evening!!! Awesome. So hopefully the doc can give some insight as to what I should do when I feel woosy.

DH has been pulling off some extreme patience with me. Our house has only one bath on the second floor, and since I am not allowed to take the steps but once a day, I am stuck in the bedroom. So he and my mom have been carting my meals up on a beautiful old tray that belonged to my favorite grandmother. They have also been eating up here in the bedroom with me so I don't feel left out. I feel pangs of guilt every time I ask for something, but he dutifully retrieves my every request. I do worry a smidge about meal planning in general. I wake up in the morning and often think about the day as a whole - breakfast, lunch, dinner. Does anything need to come out of the freezer? Do I need to run to the store and how does that fit into my day? DH is more of a "figure out what to cook right before you cook it" kinda guy. But I think my mom will deliver enough pre-made stuff that it should be easy enough for him. He has a lot on his plate: work, taking care of me and dealing with a minor house emergency that is brewing (our soil pipe busted and will cost in the thousands to fix... ugh). So I just want it to all be easy for him.

My Mom has me stocked with luxury foods. Quiche, homemade breads and jams, cupcakes, apple cake, mashed potatoes, fresh salad from her garden, homemade tomato sauce from the garden.... ahhhhhh. Good thing to be on bedrest in the early fall. I am reaping the benefits of the late season. Grapes, tomatoes, zucchini, peppers, basil... They only thing I wish I had, and I think they are done growing, is the string beans. Oh well. I am so spoiled. She also makes me homemade buttermilk pancakes with fresh sliced peaches. Have I got the best Mom, or what?

The roomie has been super active lately - to the point it is a little disturbing. Especially at night, when i wake up to go the the potty or take my meds. He is making getting back to sleep pretty hard. He can still pack a punch - enough that it actually makes me jump. It used to be I could put DH's hand on my belly and he would stop. But he is a fearless, near-three-pounder, who has grown accustomed to his fathers hand. Darn. But I often find and active day is followed by a quiet day, so hopefully tomorrow he will chill.

And we finally have a name. But you'll have to just wait cuz we're not telling till he is here.

BELOW: Snacktime with DH = Havarti with dill, crackers and fresh tomatoes from the garden. Lots of yarn and felting supplies tale up the rest of the bed. I am challenging myself with some more complicated knitting.

Breaking free

After a digital exam at 5:56 am, I have been cleared for release from the hospital. I have been here for one month and 2 days and am 28 weeks + 1 . Horray! I will remain on bedrest for the rest of the pregnancy - but at home!!! I am hopeful that I can clear 30 weeks, and can't help but look forward to 32, 34, 36 and beyond!

Life from my own bed will be much more tolerable. I will have the company of my furry companions, the comfort of my bed, and no more dealing with the constant interuptions from doctors and nurses at ungodly hours. I know they are doing their job, but sleeping has become a real task... even napping is mostly impossible. What I won't miss the most is the constant contraction monitor attached to my belly, and the near-perminent indent it leaves in my skin. I also won't miss the stress of listening to the heartbeat for 20 minute intervals, 3 times a day. I know a lot of people find this comforting, but I find it terribly stressful. Feeling him kick is good enough for me. Those moments that he goes off the monitor, or decels for even a few seconds, making me almost jump out of my skin. Goodbye TOCO, goodbye HB monitor!!!!

Then, of course, there is curling up with DH in bed. I am not much of a cuddler, but I want to just be wrapped up in him tonight. That is home.

I also had an anatomy scan yesterday. The roomie is 2 lb 14 ounces - a number I guessed, on the nose, the night before. He is in the 61st percentile. I am so proud! We'll forget he got steroids 4 weeks ago and just chalk his weight up to the one thing my body appears to be doing right. Joy!

____________

My warmest wishes to my dear pal Sara who is coming down off too many days on the mag. My hope for her is a smooth transition back on to the procardia and a chance to get back home for a few weeks.
Hang tough, girlfriend. You and Spot are rocking the 28 week house.

BELOW: TOCO (contraction monitor) & TOCO imprint. Bugger, I hate that thing.

Adventures in the wheelchair

Perma-bedhead, sour-puss... Enjoying the strong winds of Tropical Storm Hanna. Breezes rock.

Bed Rest | Weight Loss

I suspect this post will get a lot of grumbles, but I have a bit of a problem. I am loosing weight, not gaining. I don't really have any to loose. I even had to put my wedding band on a necklace because it won't stay on my finger. I am kind of at my wits end and don't really need one more thing to worry about.

I was weighted a month ago and was 135. I lost about 10 pounds in early pregnancy due to extreme nausea and vomiting, so I started low. Well, after a few weeks of asking, I finally harassed one of the nurses to walk me to the scale on Saturday. I am 133 pounds. That is a 2 lb loss over 4 weeks. The roomie is fine. His growth is on target and my aversion to food does not seem to be effecting him. Clearly, that is the most important thing.

So here is the deal.

• I am not nauseous, I am just not hungary
• I am in the hospital and hospital food sucks
• My mom stocks the floor fridge for me, but sometime I don't know what is in there so I don't know to ask for it
• C.arnation I.nstant B.reakfast, E.nsure and the like upset my digestion terribly, adding insult to injury. The prospect of terminal diarrhea makes food even less appealing
• Laying in bed 24 hours a day makes me want to eat healthy, because I already feel like crap. I crave things like watermelon and vegetarian sushi. Not exactly weight gainers.
• I just, plain don't have an appetite
  

So if anyone has suggestions, I am all ears. I am so tired of the nurses telling me how tiny I am, or saying things like, "I wish I weighted that much, and your 6 months pregnant..." It is not like I want this.

Otherwise, things have been eerily quiet for the past 4-5 days. My meds have been doing a stellar job holding back the contractions. I have not had to have the terb for a week!!! Horray! Rumor on the floor is I may go home at 28 weeks, which would be friday or saturday. Problem is sometimes they won't release you on the weekend because the Chief is not here. So I am going to beg like hell for friday. I think I would do better at home. I think my appetite would be better, my mood better, everything... just better.

Here is a belly pic. 27 weeks.

Week Three - Hospital Bedrest

Taking a quiet morning to sit up a bit and post. I am sure my contractions will act up soon, but I have a moment of reprieve... and it is all mine...

BEDSIDE ELECTION REMINDER
I wanted to send a reminder to all you bedrest mama's out there to order your absentee ballots for the fall election. That darn election is closer than you might think... and whether you are still incubating a little one bedside, or caring for a newborn, getting to the polls might be hard this year.... There. I have done my civic duty for the year.

It was a rough week. The ups and downs of this whole experience have been so severe - ranging from complete terror to boring calm to emotionally draining. Yesterday, just looking at the hospital menu through me into tears. I am so sick of the food. Even with my mother keeping homemade goodies in the fridge, if I have to look at that nasty menu one more time I think my head is going to spin off. Quite literally. One of my lady friends is on her way over to rescue me with a vegetarian sushiroll lunch! YEAH!!!

We got through the decel episode, which appears to have been a total fluke. I dread being put on the fetal heart monitor, which is done three times a day. The nurses tend to forget they have hooked me up and I am stuck listening to the roomie flutter and beat for a half hour, rather than the prescribed 20 minutes. I have taken to removing myself if it goes to long, or telling them I need to go to the bathroom. But I suspect they see through my antics. I do have the contraction monitor on at all times, leaving a permanent indentation in my belly. I mind it less.

My doctor gave me some news yesterday that I am trying desperately not to get too excited about: seems they may release me to home bedrest at 28 week if my condition stays stable. I fear that this news could be both conjecture on the residents part, or an omen that something dreadful will surely happen in the next week and a half. But I would love, love, love to be at home, in my own bed, with DH and my kitties. I would love to hear the bustle of the neighborhood kids out for recess at the school across the street. I would love to eat "real" food." Being at home also scares the shit out of me. But I know they will make the best decision for me and the roomie. And I know I won't have to do anything I am not comfortable with.

So today closes week three in the hospital. I have heard some amazing stories from the nurses about women who have endured far more than I have on this journey. So I will just be thankful that I can still get up to go to the bathroom, that I can still take a shower, that I have so far avoided the dreaded mag sulfate. Despite how much it sucks to be here, I have it pretty good.

Well - just had a contraction, so I better get on my side and see if my ute will chill. Thanks again to all of you for your wonderful support and kind words. Waking up to a 10 new comments on a post really does a lot to brighten my day. And especially to Sara, who is my super-champ-hero-due-date twin. Reading her blog is like looking in a mirror.

Here is a picture of me and my beloved Bennie-Bo-Bo who I miss dreadfully. I keep trying to bribe DH to smuggle him into the hospital, but he won't do it:(

The Crappiest of Crappy Days

(I'm dictating to DH -- I finally had to let him into my secret world.)

After breakfast they put me on 20 minutes of the heart monitor. At the very end of my session the roomie's heartbeat deceled for about 4 minutes. My room was turned upside down by an army of nurses and my favorite doctor. They put me on oxygen and place a new IV for fluids. I was warned by the doctor that if this continues that I should be prepared for emergency C-section. She told me that it would happen very fast and there would be a lot of confusion. After the decel ended I was placed on continuous monitoring and I was taken off food and drink in case I would need general anesthesia.

DH and my mom arrived quickly and things settled down for a little while. Then my contractions started up and I had to get another shot of Terb.

We're all finding the continuous monitor to be unbearably stressful, anticipating having to call for the nurse when his heartbeat decels. We had one scare after the morning, but it was short-lived. For now his heartbeat looks great despite the fact that he moves so damn much that it's impossible to keep him on.

I can deal with the contractions. I can deal with the drugs. But listening to his heartbeat go down makes me feel too out of control. It appears to have been an isolated event, that he may have just squeezed the cord himself but it looks like I'll have to be monitored for a while. Bummer.

DH is spending the night in a very uncomfortable recliner but I'm grateful for the company cuz I love him like crazy.

Biting Sara's numbers post

• Days on hospital bedrest - 13
• Number of tests given this week that came back negative - 2 (no gestational diabetes for me!)

• Number of holes on my arms from IV's, shots and blood draws in the last 4 days - 10 (ouch)
• Number of times I have had a repeat nurse in 2 weeks - 4 (there must be an army of them)
• Number of weeks till I breath a little easy - 2
• Number of times a day the roomie goes on the monitor - 3
• Number of decelerations he had this week during the monitor that almost gave me a freaking heart attack - 1
• Maximum number of contractions I can have in an hour before someone rushes in with a needle for of crap that makes me feel like shit - 6
• Number of times my 10 year old niece went to the salad bar while visit over a 2 day period - 4 (veg junkie)
• Number of little knitted dolls I have knocked out so far - 4
• Number of times a day I through a wet towel over my face while napping to fend of the procardia rush - 2 to 3
• Number of totally rad ladies who have written to me with word of encouragement and stories of success - A lot, enough to make me feel some ease.

Writing this blog and participating in the MA Yahoo group has done more for my sanity than I think I can ever really even know. I haven't had the energy to follow all of you back to your blogs, so I can reciprocate the love, but I hope I can soon. Problem is I need to be on my back to type... And being on my back increases my contractions... So I'll have to focus on the one-handed side type:) I am getting better at it.

Never a dull moment

I passed my 24 hour pee test with flying colors. No preeclampsia for me.

But then I failed my initial glucose screen. Not by a lot, but failed none the less. I am in the midst of the three hour test now. I guess it is possible to fail the screen and pass the 3 hour test. Keeping my fingers crossed. There is absolutely NO history of diabetes in my family, gestational or otherwise. I am baffled.

Not sure I can take too many more needles. My arms look like I am drug addict.

SIDENOTE:
DH posted a video of my favorite little man-kitties in the whole world. I miss those little jerks...

The long haul is a bumpy road.

IV in the left hand has stolen my last two pleasures: knitting and typing. So please excuse typos and the brevity of my posts.

Since I last posted.
One bad evening of side effects.
Lightheaded, short of breath, numbness in feet. Thought i might be tachycardic. Gave me oxygen. Settle down.
That was Saturday, our 5 year anniversary.
20 minutes in a wheelchair on Sunday. Went outside. Forgot what a breeze felt like. It was beautiful.
This morning.
Went for u/s.
Cervix dropped from 1.9 - 1.1. Fuck.
Contractions upticked after lunch.
Shot me up with terbutaline.
Makes me feel like shit.
IV fluids along with it. Arms are so beat up they have to needle my hand.
Three days - one hand.
Changing to a day to day outlook.
Each day the roomie stays in is a victory.
Trying to start wrapping my head around the chance of preterm birth and the NICU.
Not that I am resigned to it, just that I prefer to be mildly prepared.
Although I doubt anyone is ever really prepared for that.

In our usual twin-like fashion, my pal Sara had a shot of terb today and has been admitted to the hospital. Go give her the love. We share a due date and bum ute's.

Below, more images of the day to day. Including the dolls my mom and I are knitting. They get sent to a charity in Africa tht works with kids with HI.V/A.IDS. I was finishing one a day prior to the IV. Damn.

Thursday to Thursday - Week one down

It has been one week since we got a round of steroids, one week since I was admitted into the hospital, one week since DH and I did the smartest thing ever in our whole lives by leaving that horrendous hospital, those incompetent Peri's and those inattentive OB's. I can't say what the future would have been, but I shutter to think what may have happened if we had stayed.

Today was not without its trials. I guess Thursdays are just not for me. I woke up after a bad dream, of which I remember little, except the presence of a very, very small baby.

My contractions are being controlled by a medication called Pro.cardia. But for the last 48 hours I was also taking a med called Indo.cin because the Pro.cradia was not quite cutting it and my blood pressure was too low to up the dose. So they added this other drug that I could only take fro 48 hours. That meant that this morning at 6 am I was being "turned loose" again to see if the Pro.cardia alone could control my badly behaved Ute. It was not a good way to start the day.

I was also supposed to me kept company today by my father-in-law and sister-in-law in the absence of DH, who's day was filled with meetings and preparations for a floor refinish. I like my in-laws, but I find that visitors other than DH or my folks can cause my uterus to become more irritable. I was just upset about having them with me, worried I would not be comfortable, that I would have to entertain them. They are great, but no replacement for the comfort of a husband or mom.

So all this came to a teary head once compounded by a phone call from the devil itself: my insurance company. They have been fighting my doctors for a week now on progesterone shots. I was handling the call pretty well till the lady on the end of the line digressed into the same crap that the doctors at the last hospital pulled on me over and over. "Well, you have no history of preterm labor or second trimester loss. Without a history, there is no indication that you should be treated." My standard response is, " So basically you are telling me I have to loose this baby and them you'll prescribe progesterone for my next pregnancy?" They are all total politicians when responding to me, cleverly playing a game with semantics to relieve their own guilt so they can rest easy tonight. This near word for word conversation with the insurance witch was a flashback to the trauma of last week, and finally through me into a sobbing tailspin.

So imagine this. Me, strapped to the bed with a monitor and leg compression boots. Crying furiously. Running out of crappy hospital tissues and ringing the nurse for more crappy tissues. Nurse arrives stunned to find me in hysterics. She asks what it is. It takes me four tries to say the word "insurance" so that she can understand me. She gets me tissues, a cold compress and consoles me by agreeing with how evil insurance is. Cancel the visit from SIL & FIL. Turn on the "mom-signal." Everything calms down as I catch my breath and watch "Tom and Jerry." Take a quick nap as the cartoon music reminds me of spend a sick-day at my grandparents house.

For all of the upset, the Peri's here have now decided that I don't need the progesterone. They feel bedrest and meds to control the contractions is enough for now, and I feel comfortable with that. I love, love, love my doctors here. The doctor I see the most is a resident. She is amazing, attentive, concerned, proactive and willing to fight for me. The issue now is that I still need an OB practice to pick me up and none will because I am a risk. I am fine, actually pleased, to stay with the general practice here at the hospital. Problem is that they primarily handle underserved populations, typically on medicaid. They do not take my insurance, which is thought to be one of the better ones (ha, ha.) So now we are facing the issue if my insurance is going to pay for my stay here (gasp!) My doctor assured me not to worry. She says we will probably get some scary bills in the mail, but that the hospital will duke it out for us. She really just does not want me handling it or worrying about it.

What a mess!!
But the boy is doing great and we are both safe.
In the end, I don't care about anything but cooking him as long as I can.
And the rest will just be what it will be.

Oh.
I am now told I will be here for the "long haul." Four weeks was just a silly dream.