... It's going to be a long post.
I had plans to go tell the story of my pregnancy from the beginning, but today, I just can't. The next post was going to be from August about how Zofran made me so constipated, I felt like I gave birth out of my butt. Lol. I know you're all disappointed that I'm skipping that story for today.
Today marks the 6 month anniversary of when I went into the hospital. On Thursday, November 19, 2009, at 29 weeks 1 day, my life completely turned upside-down. All the other stories from before that just seem meaningless right now.
To sum up earlier stories, I started to show at 17 weeks, felt the baby kick at 19, I had the anatomy ultrasound at 21 weeks (where we stayed team green and did NOT find out the sex of the baby), and had serious morning sickness until 26 weeks.
The entire time, the morning sickness was really bad. I was constantly on Zofran and just miserable. At my 28 week appointment, my doctor was concerned about it. I hadn't gained any weight. In fact, I was 8 pounds under my prepregnancy weight. Considering my baby should weigh almost 4 pounds and I should have additional weight from fluids and all the other junk inside, an 8 pound deficit was concerning enough to get a growth ultrasound. At that appointment, she also asked me if I had any Braxton Hicks (BH). I told her I wasn't sure what they felt like, but every now and then, my belly feels like I'm doing crunches and the top of my belly gets hard. She told me that was them and casually mentioned to call if I get more than four an hour. I didn't really know what that meant, but sure... I'll call if I get more than four an hour.
That appointment was a week before that epic night. On the next Monday, I had my growth ultrasound. The baby looked healthy, fluids looked good, everything was fine. I had noticed sporadic BH all the time, but didn't really think much of them.
Thursday rolls around and I am noticing more and more BH. It never occurred to me to start counting them until around 4 that afternoon. I had a meeting to go to at church that evening, so I figured I would just pay attention to them then. I took a shower and got ready for the meeting. On the way to church, I told Rusty that I was going to start counting how many I had. They weren't painful at all, annoying yes, but painful, no. I was just following what my doctor said and knew to count and call.
Let me pause and say that I am not very good and multitasking. Or at least, I'm not very good at juggling more than one thought at a time. I was aware that I was having these, but too distracted to count them until I was sitting down.
We get to church and we get ready to start the two hour meeting about becoming small group leaders. I get my paper and pen out, set my coat down, and my change falls out of my pocket. I bend down to pick it up, grunting the whole time. I'll mention later why this point is significant.
Throughout the meeting, I start writing down the times I feel my BH. Poor Pastor Brad, he probably thought I was bored out of my mind, checking the time so often.
I wrote down the times, but didn't notice a pattern. 6:51, 7:05, 7:11, 7:28, 7:32, 7:40.... Okay, I'm definitely having more than four an hour. Did I call? No. I waited until the end of the meeting and counted that in a little over an hour and a half, I had noted 14 BH. It's now 8:30pm.
As we walked to the car, I dialed up the answering service for the doctor's office. I told them it wasn't an emergency, but that I was having quite a few BH and was told to call.
The doctor calls me back and mentions that some women often have a higher number of BH and it is no big deal, but that it wouldn't be a bad idea to get checked out.
I look at Rusty. He is in the driver's seat looking totally annoyed. It wasn't that he didn't care about me or the baby. It was nearly 9pm and he just wanted to go home and relax.
If I was going to inconvenience my husband, I wanted to make sure I could blame someone else, lol. So I ask her, "Should I go in to get checked out?" She replies, "Yeah, it couldn't hurt."
Because of her relaxed demeanor, we were in no rush to get there. The church is about 20 minutes to the hospital, but we went 30 minutes out of the way to go home first. I wanted to change into some pajamas and we wanted to take Delilah out and get her settled for the night.
We were driving to the hospital and I am so nervous they are just going to send me home. I kept thinking to myself, "If this is nothing, Rusty is going to shoot me. Maybe we should turn back."
We got to the hospital and I am walking totally fine, felt fine, joking around. I said to Rusty as we walked up to the emergency room doors, "Maybe I should grab a wheel chair so I can feel more like a patient." Bahahaha...
Pause again. Luckily, I had been an overzealous pregnant woman and took a tour of labor and delivery (L&D) at the 20 week mark. Most women take a tour somewhere in the 3rd trimester. K, back to the story.
So the ER nurses ask me if I need L&D to come pick me with a up with a wheelchair or if I can walk there. "Oh, they don't need to get me. I'm fine, this is just a precaution." So I walked (read: waddled) all the way across the hospital and up a floor to L&D.
My doc had let them know I was coming, so they had a room set. They told me that I could undress and pee if I wanted to. They told me to lay down and hooked the non-stress test (NST) monitors to my belly.
The nurse was fiddling around the room and then came back over to look at the NST read out. Her face totally changed.
"Honey, we need to check you."
Ummm.... okay? What does that mean.
They then popped my Internal cherry. OWWWWWW!
Her face changed to be even more concerned. She called another nurse to come in and check me.
Rusty is just looking at me like, what are they doing?
After the second nurse check me, she said, "Yep, she's a three."
I blurted, "WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?"
"Honey, you're in LABOR. You're three centimeters dilated, 70% effaced. The NST is saying you're having contractions every two minutes."
To be continued...