A Thank You Note: 33 Weeks, 3 Days

I feel like a new woman…

If you or someone you know is suffering from a mundane, boring rut in life, offer this suggestion: Have them confined to a narrow bed, where they must lie on their back (or side), and refrain from using a toilet for exactly 34 hours. To ensure success in this, encourage them to eat as though another’s life depended on it and drink plenty of fluids. Make them hit a button so that they can audibly request that someone they barely know assist with the bed pan. After the 34 hours, allow them to return to utilizing a toilet, and a few hours later, offer the divine privilege of a shower. This will cause a lasting effect on the person and improve their outlook on life forever. Give it a try!

…just kidding, don’t. And that was just to be silly, not to conjure up any feelings of sorrow or woe for me. Instead, I wanted you to know that I feel rejuvenated and great today.  Amidst my newly appreciated freedom and glee, I wanted to sincerely thank the many people who have contributed to my happiness over the last month. There are really too many to list, because I thank each and every one of you, just for reading, for commenting, for thinking about and praying for us.

I didn’t get the chance to mention the box of goodies that arrived with Brian on Sunday. It had been sent from my friends, sweet playgroup mamas, and included chocolates, cereal treats, magazines, cards with sweet notes, books to read, and yarn and patterns with special purposes. Elisa made a baguette that literally rivals those of Parisian boulangeries, I kid you not. There were candies, catalogues for perusing, crossword puzzles and shower gel. You gals are marvelous! THANK YOU.

There’s Brian’s mom, who has taken the laundry and the cleaning tasks of our house to a level well beyond what existed when I was on my feet and at my best! (I’m considering coming up with some reason to be on bedrest when I get home so that this won’t end…no. no. nevermind.) There’s his dad, who has helped with projects around our house including installing shelving in Sam’s room, and as always, comic relief. I thank my mom, who has made my hospital room feel like my college dorm room, with comforts like memory foam bath mats, banana nut bread, and a station of foot care products; for buying me clothes to make me feel normal. And to my dad, who has had to figure out the hard way what Harper’s “PD” is and made more trips to this room than anyone else. There are Cary and Woody, who have stepped in so gracefully, without the blink of an eye, in both caring for Harper and covering Brian’s classes. THANK YOU. 

Thanks to the visitors, the food-bringers, the note-writers, the late-night phone callers and the movie-suggesters. To those who have written lists of people willing to be called on for help, and those who have awaited the phone calls. THANK YOU.

Thanks to the caretakers who lovingly empty bedpans and change sheets, flush IVs and patiently chase Sam around with the monitor and answer questions when I’m feeling nervous, and who understand when I cry and who say, “hang in there.” THANK YOU.

Thanks to the man who gets up in the middle of the night and drives to console me, and to the little girl who rearranges her nap schedule to include a long drive  just to push a few elevator buttons, adjust the bed height, look for tiny babies through a window, and have her mama tell her for the bazillionth time that she can’t pick her up.  THANK YOU. THANK YOU.

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…and since I just accidentally wrote an Oscar acceptance speech, I’ll move on to another topic I had been considering writing about; the road to the red carpet.

I’m not really an Academy Awards geek, though I did have a professor in college who taught my film class and always invited students over for an Oscar party at his house. I guess I’m geeking out this year, given the lack of much else to do. If you want to geek out along with me, come right ahead. We can discuss things like Jean Dujardin’s amateur tap dancing in The Artist or what the heck Albert Nobbs is about… it might be fun.

Incase you missed it, here is an interesting way to view the nominees. Of the nominees for best picture, I have actually only seen The Help. Of those I haven’t, I am most interested in seeing Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, The Artist, and Midnight in Paris. 

I have seen Bridesmaids twice, and I think it’s hilarious. It got a surprising nomination, given that it’s a comedy, for best original screenplay (Kristin Wiig wrote it) and also Megan McCarthy received a nomination for best supporting actress. She’s the one who makes the movie hilarious as opposed to just really funny, in my opinion.

We shall await the results in suspense. In the meantime, enjoy your showers and your trips to the bathroom! Or, if you’re going to leave behind such luxuries, do it; but do it while exploring the great wide wilderness, not while in a hospital…unless you have to, in which case, I will help you through it in any way I can.

Composure: 33 Weeks, 2 Days

Good Monday to you.

What a weekend! I have so much to write about – my many fantastic visitors Friday and Saturday, a completely odd mix of movie critiques, and how I finally lost my composure…lost it…and maybe found it again, we’ll  have to see…

I mentioned on Friday that my good friend from high school, Lori, and her husband, Paul were on their way to see me. Their visit was superb. They arrived here Friday night bearing the best hamburger and fries I have eaten in a looong time.  Thankfully, everyone on the floor was totally relaxed about them being here until late into the night. We just chatted and caught up. They spent the night in a hotel here in Athens and returned to me on Saturday with more good food. Lori herself, along with several of my other friends who began amazing businesses, are a post for the near future, but I have to give a quick shout out and inform you that her chandelier design company was chosen to design a feature piece for the HGTV show, Dear Genevieve. Her episode airs Feb. 4th at 8:30pm, so check it out!

Saturday morning visits went like this: Brian’s parents came through on their way to an RV show in Atlanta. They brought magazines, Ghirardelli chocolates, and a beautiful pink orchid with plenty of buds left to bloom. Their stay overlapped with my mom bringing Harper by. As you may know, grandparents must always have their fix of the munchkin. My in-laws departed as Lori and Paul returned, and by nap time, Mom and Harper hit the road. Toppy, my mom’s sister from Hayesville, for whom I’m named (because her name isn’t actually Toppy, It’s Mary Carol, just to clarify), came with a beautiful daffodil plant and magazines, two good DVDs, and lots of snacks. Toppy, Lori, Paul, and I all headed to my favorite spot for my daily escape, the patio off the cafeteria. The sun was shining brightly and we stayed there long enough for my arm to turn pink (ya, so what if it was just one arm!). Halleleujah! Dad, once again closed the day with a quick visit after an all-day meeting here in Athens.

Brian wasn’t able to get in on this busy day of visitation, but he did finish up all the many things he had to do to secure a substitute, finish his own graduate assignment, and close up our little house for a while. He made it down early Sunday morning and brought Sweet Girl for another day here. Poor thing, I think she is amazing for not being too sick of this place yet.

Moving on to the MOVIES…

1.  A film I had heard many people speak highly of which arrived in Toppy’s goodie bag was Crazy, Stupid Love starring Steve Carrell, Julianne Moore, Ryan Gosling, and Emma Stone. To sound cliché (why not?), it was a two thumbs up, feel good movie. I love anything with Steve Carrell, but this was the more lovable Steve Carrell. Unlike his former The Office character, this was the type he plays where you just want to hug him. His role in this movie reminded me of a film I love called  Dan in Real Life, which has got to be my favorite movie of his ever… but Crazy, Stupid Love comes very close. It’s one of those that introduces you to many characters and later unveils their unexpected relationships at just the right time. I loved it, and so did Lacey, my night nurse. She was so sweet and watched some of it with me.

2. I placed this one in our Netflix Instant queue ages ago, and finally got around to it: I Love You, Phillip Morris. This is one of Jim Carrey’s serious movies, but unlike whichever one it was where he first juxtaposed his near-cartoon-like characters in something that made everyone cry (I can’t remember what it was- maybe Simon Birch?), this one was a character he really did fit. He plays Steven Russell, a guy who spends his life pretending to be someone he isn’t. He has a wife and daughter when he suddenly concludes he is gay and starts living a completely different life. From there, he conducts scam after scam, able to get anything he wants by effectively deceiving people everywhere. He finally gets put behind bars and there he falls deeply in love with Phillip Morris (Ewan McGregor). What’s crazy about this film is that it is a true story. You’ll be blown away by the stuff he gets away with when you remind yourself this guy actually did this. Not going to be a likeable film for you if you had any trouble getting through certain scenes in Brokeback Mountain, just fair warning. Honestly, it was just okay.

3. Finally, as you may have anticipated, I watched  the 1960 Hayley Mills classic, Pollyanna. The irony of my loss of composure directly in the midst of this particular film is practically eerie…but I’ll get to that. First, I think it is a great idea to revisit movies you loved in your childhood because you perceive things so differently as an adult. Pollyanna brings hope and happiness to a sour old town just with her sunny disposition and use of what she calls “the glad game,” where she finds something to be glad about in any glum situation.  My favorite line in the film was the upstairs maid, Angelica’s response to Pollyanna’s inquiry about why her affluent Aunt Polly has so many bedrooms. “Who lives in all these rooms?” she asks.  Angelica responds, “There’s no one lives in them. They’re just there. That’s what being wealthy is.” If you remember nothing else from this movie, you probably remember Angelica’s face. It is the perfect, pouty-grumpy face for this movie. I love her. I think I enjoyed it even more last night than when I was eight.

Here comes my explanation of this post’s title. I’m just going to let go and write it, which leads me to offer this:

*WARNING: THE REST OF THIS POST MAY CONTAIN SOMEWHAT GRAPHIC MATERIAL. PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK!*

Somewhere near halfway through Pollyanna, a member of  “The IV Team” came in to inject my arm with my third IV since arriving here a week ago. I, typically quite brave in these needle situations, have become squirmy about this. The difference in an 18 gauge needle and a 22 gauge is significant (18 is bigger and has to be used for blood transfusions). First she inspects my arm, and knowing I woud prefer not  to have a giant needle in the bend of my elbow, finds a hopeful vein in my forearm. I brace myself and look away. “Big stick.” Ouch, then I’m okay, then huge ouch, ouch ouch…she is sorry. She got the vein, but it “blew under the pressure.” Awesome. We’re going with the bend of the elbow now. “Big stick…”

…then I totally lost it.  I just started bawling. It took a few seconds before I could help her understand that it was not the pain of the needle. It was EVERYTHING. I was gone. I couldn’t reel it back in. Flood gates let loose.

I finally dialed it back enough to explain to the IV woman the irony of the fact that the movie Pollyanna was on pause right next to her. I had been playing the Glad Game for over a week, and I just fell out of the tree. I couldn’t play anymore. Not long after my meltdown and freshly uncomfortable elbow bendy spot ( I’m going to call it a pain level 4, for all you Brian Regan fans out there), I resumed the movie and continued working on Sam’s blanket.

The credits rolled and stopped. I was still finishing up a row when I felt a bit of a gush. I finished the row and got up to check my pad. Blood. I pulled up my pants to leisurely call the nurse and then serious, running-down-my-legs gush. Nurses are super fast (and absolute heroes, by the way- a post waiting in the wings as well)! They have to assess every ounce of blood I lose…

In that moment, I suddenly lost my bathroom privileges, and I had not realized how lucky I was to have them.

That was the biggest bleed yet, by a mile, but fortunately our bodies know what they have to do to turn off the faucet, and eventually mine kicked in. I called Brian. I’m so glad he was in Commerce, just 20 miles away and not in Rabun Gap  (oh, here I go with the Glad Game again- I guess I’m back!)

He walked in the door to my relapse in loss of composure and I spilled what you may have thought was all of the tears I own right onto his sleeve.  But it wasn’t. He got to be the strong shoulder during my first use of a hospital bedpan, and because I gave you a disclaimer before, I’m going to tell you about it…

Every year, I get the personal honor of leading a discussion to teach our tenth grade students how to pee and poop (and manage their periods) in the woods before their five-day backpacking trip. I get to answer their questions and ease their minds of the paralyzing anxiety they have for such a simple thing as going to the bathroom in the woods. Well now, having felt just as they do before that trip for the past 16 hours, I have a new way to make going in the woods seem like  no.big.deal.

Some of you will remember, Brian likes to joke around and make light of uncomfortable situations. First he had me laughing so hard that it truly worried him. Four and a half seconds later, I was crying so hard that it truly worried him. Peeing into a bedpan while lying in a bed without the authority to sit up is one of the hardest, most humiliating things I have ever done. I lost my composure again- sobbing into pillows until I couldn’t breathe.

I really love my husband. a lot. 

All is stable now. I still don’t have bathroom privileges, and won’t until 9:30 in the morning, lord willing. Sam’s heart rate is fine and I’m not having any contractions. The doctor has given me the 36-week date for a scheduled section, should I make it that far, just to give me a light at the end of a very long tunnel, but no one really thinks I’ll make it that long, including me. The goal in focus remains 34 weeks. I’m less than a week away.

Come tears, blood, and bedpans; come moments with composure and without; Let’s do this.

Early Morning Venting and Comic Relief: 33 Weeks!

Still to come are some movie critiques, but I needed a post this morning. This is a journal after all, and I reward you for shuffling through at the end with a funny video. Stay tuned…

Here’s me venting at 6:30 am:

Again with the cart and the taking of the blood! It does not hurt, don’t get me wrong. They do a really good job of sticking arms, somehow eliminating even the slightest bit of pain. No, it is the fact that I cannot for the life of me fall asleep again after this little intrusion. And if there is anything at all that a girl in my situation should be doing this early in the morning, when it is still dark outside, when I’ll be trying to fill the rest of the hours of my day with whatever  else I can do from a bed, it’s SLEEPING!!!!!!! How do I effectively complain about this problem?!

Today, my train of thought led me to the nightmare that is our health insurance and  how every time they run my blood through some machine to remind themselves that my blood is still the same type that it was two days ago, there is a “ch-ching”  sound being made  in a basement somewhere, while a ridiculous amount of money  jumps onto a running list of similar costs, and next to it, the mildly vague reasoning insurance won’t pay for it.

I’ve been reading and posting in a forum made up of women with Placenta Previa and their experiences. It has been a great source of information, encouragement, whatever. I noticed several women talking about the anxiety they still experienced several months post partum, based on the stress caused during the ordeal- even though everything worked out fine, their babies were healthy and home, they didn’t bleed to death; but the fear of not knowing had stayed with them for months. I have explained to one or more people in conversation that I feel completely fortunate not to have this unmanageable fear for my life, or for Sam’s life right now. As I’ve said before, I feel safe and in good hands and confident we’re going to be fine. Even when we had to guess as to when it was the right time to leave for the hospital, 45 minutes away, and whether a particular incident was the one for which you’re supposed to call the ambulance, I don’t think I experienced a damaging amount of fear or anxiety…

…but what’s making me hyperventilate too early in the morning is the unknown financial consequences of a level of healthcare I have never experienced before. I. Should. Not. be worrying about this, I know. After all, we are insured. This could be much worse. But I am worrying. And why couldn’t congress get this whole mess ironed out for the people? What is wrong with them?! And how much does  that plate of bland mashed potatoes and overcooked, underseasoned green beans cost? …What is my pain level right now?!

And so, without further subjection to the wanderings of my mind, I shall turn to comedy to eliminate the asphyxiating effects of these undeserved thoughts. Enjoy this with me. You have to:

(For the record, I have no pain right now, other than I’m pretty hungry and my stomach muscles just had a workout laughing at Brian Regan…)

And Sam and Harper, I pray you will never hear your Dad and me complaining about the financial burdens of the worthwhile healthcare that helped us to bring you both safely into the world, and to help keep you safe and healthy within it. We are thankful and blessed, all of us, not only for the access to the care we need, but for employment and the ability to work our way through whatever curve balls may be thrown our way, and the faith that calms us .

Scattered and Focused: 32 Weeks, 6 Days

Sitting here with my legs strapped into these ridiculous velcro things (for circulation) and not wanting to squish my insides too much by sitting up, I end up throwing a lot of things- like towards the trash, towards a bowl on the shelf- stuff like that….I miss a lot, so there are always little things scattered around the floor.

I’m thinking about Brian sitting at home at his computer working on writing his core assignment paper for his graduate class, which he will follow by making preparations for a longterm substitute and then packing for an undeterminable duration away from home. How in the world is he staying focused with all that is going on right now? For the past few nights, all three of us have slept in different places; Brian has been at home, Harper with Nana and Papa in Commerce, and me here. I guess my post today is coming down to feeling scattered, then trying to regain a sense of focus (i.e. I couldn’t think of what to write about today).

Everyone has been commenting on how well I seem to be doing on bedrest. The midwives say I am always smiling. Perhaps I am doing considerably well, but it’s because we have been so blessed in this situation. You read about my visitors yesterday. Everyone I know has offered us help, to get us anything we could want or need, and come through in ways we couldn’t have imagined. Brian was generously offered a long-term substitute by his administrators, and because of his built up sick-leave, he won’t have to worry about anything until we all get home and settled with Sam in our arms. That is so huge and wonderful. How could we not celebrate that and rejoice?

But, I don’t want to come across as Pollyanna* and have you thinking this doesn’t suck. I do cry more and more lately. Sometimes I can’t quite pinpoint why- I know you’re thinking that sounds crazy ’cause you could pinpoint exactly what might make one cry in this situation- but here are a few of the reasons I have come up with: pregnancy hormones; missing my 22-month-old little sunshine; missing Brian; wanting to leave the hospital; pregnancy hormones; ready to meet Sam and get this ordeal over with; people’s overwhelming generosity; fear for Sam’s well-being; will that stupid prenatal vitamin they just gave me cost $12 when I have my own right here?…pregnancy hormones…

…I just find it completely necessary to focus on the positive.

<one> Today was sunny again, and Dad wheeled Harper and me through the hospital and to the courtyard outside of the cafeteria where the sun was pouring down like hot fudge on vanilla ice cream. I felt so normal again for that little while, sitting and watching my daughter jump off a little brick wall and say, “tada!!” Out there watching her by myself while Dad went inside to get food. It’s the little things, I tell ya.

<two> My good friends Lori and Paul are on their way here from Atlanta- making a big ol’ weekend out of it- just to be here and hang out with me, and more fun people stopping through this weekend.

<three> It is true what they say; one day soon, this will all just feel like the tiniest blip in our timeline. And I’m looking forward to that day more and more.

Actually, I could spend all day listing reasons to be grateful. And those reasons really do make this situation easier and more manageable. So, we turn the scattered into focus and move forward. I am really, really, really enjoying everyone’s enthusiasm in reading what I have to say here. It totally gives me something to look forward to, so keep. it. up.

And Samuel, dear one, we have been here for a week as of today,  you and me. You are a champion, telling that NICU to bugger off for what now equals 21 days of not having to be in there. I want it on the record that I am beginning a small blanket for you today. I actually knitted a bunch of it and then ripped it out again (that’s something I find much easier to do when I know I’m on bedrest for the next couple of weeks). So, I hope I can achieve my goal of finishing it before you get here. Take your time. I love you.

*Now I’m in the mood to watch Pollyanna. Could that be our next movie critique? Find out Monday.

Prayer Shawl: 32 Weeks, 5 Days*

As it turns out, the busy day thing isn’t such a strange phenomenon here after all. Again at 6am, the wheeling little cart steered right in my door. This time, it was a kind person apologizing for having to turn on the bright lights. More blood. Since I have to be ready for the possibility of a transfusion at any given time, they have to re-cross my blood every few days and keep an extra large needle IV in my arm.  *sigh* Not that I’m complaining, as Eeyore might say.

I began this post this morning with the weak but working title, “No Sleep.” I could not fall asleep for anything last night, but at least Tina Fey was keeping me company at 2:30 this morning with her hilarity in the book Bossypants. Gosh, I have been savoring that book. I want to keep reading, but I keep trying to save some for later incase the need for a burst of laughter strikes. I didn’t want it to end, but I do have some other good ones waiting in the wings. (By the way, if you decide to read Bossypants,  I highly recommend having my cousin Carolyn read it out loud to you. It makes it a gillion times better!)

The inability to fall asleep again after the 6am intrusion had me grumpy. That grumpiness was augmented by Teresa getting my breakfast order wrong…but my day got much better…

Visitations today happened like this:

First, Claudia, a woman from Dad’s church stopped in to bring me magazines and say hello. We had a great conversation about many things and it really makes me smile for someone I barely know to be able to come in and sit down next to me, in my ratty pajamas and bedhead, and be able to talk about whatever. She also picked out some perfect magazines for me. I already came across a cure for insomnia in one of them which suggests to practice yawning. Will do. My nurse (a new one today) made it a bit awkward by coming in to put me on the monitor in the midst of Claudia’s visit, and felt the need to lift my shirt for the stethoscope when no one ever does that….awk-waaaard, mais c’est la vie.

Second, Nana and Sweet Girl came over. Harper, fresh off of her latest  thrilling elevator button push and ride, toddled in babbling about a tiny door that she found which “Mama can’t fit through.” Thanks, love. They stayed for quite awhile and went to lunch in the cafeteria while I had my lunch in my chair.

Third, while Mom and Harper were out temporarily, Jeanne Reynolds came down for a quick visit and brought hugs and love from the school and the prettiest prayer shawl made by the women in her church. Wow. It’s really amazing to have such widespread thoughts and prayers going out for you.

Mom and Harper returned and we visited some more. Any nurses or hospital employees who dropped in during this little blissful moment of my day were well-informed that “Ha-poh have creamy feet!” because Nana gave us each a foot rub with lotion while we got cozy under my new prayer shawl and watched Peep and Chirp on PBS together.

Just as Harper’s little eyelids were sagging and Nana knew she had to make her getaway for nap time, our dear Father Steve knocked on the door. We have recently decided to join St. James Episcopal church, and actually had planned for Brian and Harper to attend the ceremony last Sunday and be anointed and join, but then Mama (that’s me) decided to make a hasty getaway to Athens and blew the whole plan.

It was nice to sit with him one on one and tell him our life story in a nutshell. Then he prayed for me and anointed me, and in the midst of the lord’s prayer, another knock at the door. I figured it was the nurse there to put me on the dumb monitor again, but Father Steve just asked for a moment and we finished the prayer.

Turns out it was my Dad at the door! It was great that they got to meet, make random connections and talk about seminaries. We also discussed a baptism service for both of our children in which Dad will participate and Episcopal traditions will also be done, which will be new to us all, but I’m excited.

Dad’s visit was long and good. Good talks, good thoughts.

And after all these visitors, I still was just in time to watch Ellen while being on the monitor. They must have caught little Sam in a nap because, you know those accelerations they look for in his heart rate? Well, he hadn’t had any of those for awhile, so they brought me apple juice. That sugar did whatever trick they were looking for, and the little hills started popping up on the screen. Sorry for waking you up. I know what that’s like.

Media-wise, It’s Thursday night and I NEVER get to watch my favorite shows when they air, so we’re in for a big night of knitting through The Office, 30 Rock, Big Bang Theory, and I can’t remember what the other one was, but I will probably be asleep by then anyway (granted I practice my yawning). My eyelids are at half mast as it is…

Today was just a constant reminder of my many many blessings, which through loving people, envelop me like a prayer shawl and  just make me thankful for a whole lot.

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* I realize the dates and days may have been a little confusing off the bat. Turns out, when I started posting I didn’t have the blog set to the correct time zone so I posted on two different days and it ended up showing the same date. Then I got myself all confused with my exact pregnant days and am correcting all of this now.  I know there are seven days in a week and I know I am 33 weeks on Saturday, so this being true, does that make me 32 weeks, 5 days- or 6 days? I could probably ask a nurse…

Mama Miss You: 32 Weeks, 5 Days

I  love this story: Cary took Harper to the Dining Hall yesterday after gymnastics. Evidently, she was going around to everyone and telling them, “Mama miss you!” Mama miss you!”  “No,” they would reply, smiling. “Mama misses YOU!” But it’s true for anyone to whom she said it. I do miss you. Thanks, Cary, for sharing that.

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Midwife Meredith: I heart you.

I met her this morning around the time I thought I would have been eating my blueberry pancakes (come on, Sheila!). What a great talk. She mentioned what an increase in previas they are seeing these days, and that is unfortunate. These rise as a direct correlation to the rise of  C-section rates. But the good thing is, though the most frustrating thing about them is the unbelievable unpredictability of it all, they have learned to empathize well about the difficulties the condition has on the patient.

She  asked how I’m holding up, about my little one at home; She pointed out that they really tend to see previas deliver around 35 weeks. Though this is not necessarily because of the dreaded, cut-loose bleed, but because by that point, the risks to the baby being delivered have decreased as the risks of the previa (major hemorrhaging) have increased. It’s a balancing act.

In this brief conversation, Meredith helped me to regain a focused goal. Get to 34 weeks. I have to quit worrying on the unknown beyond that milestone. If I deliver at that point, we are looking at a week to a week-and-a-half in the NICU. That is the first time anyone has given me a number like that, and painted such a positive picture of how well babies tend to do when they make it that far. We are in such good hands.

And the day moved on (Sheila finally brought me those pancakes, bless her soul)…

Brian and Harper arrived for our day of hanging out together. Thanks to Brigitte’s awesomeness in getting me permission to high tail it out of this room for awhile, we had a magnificent adventure. Harper and I climbed up in the chariot as Brian assured the nurses he would have me back before I turned into a pumpkin.

First we just toured the hospital. Since I had arrived by ambulance, the only thing I’d seen were the back hallways, so he showed me the route they use to come see me and the cafeteria. Then we went outside to breathe in the air; soak up some vitamin D. You know how hospitals often kind of merge into parking lots of other medical buildings, but it kind of seems like they are all the same place? Well, just on the other side of several medical buildings whose parking lots seemed to connect, was a delicious little bakery. Our first morning here, Brian had found it and brought me a muffin. Harper kept saying, “I need a cookie. I need a cookie,”  so naturally, we plunged out of my permitted radius and down the sidewalk to the bakery. Don’t tell Brigitte!!! I got a chocolate muffin, Harper had an apple fritter (which we called a cookie), and Brian got a doughnut with chocolate, peanut butter, caramel and potato chips on it. I’m completely serious. That existed in our world today.

I kept thinking some doctor or nurse would be driving by and recognize me and get out and put me in time out or something, but they didn’t. What excitement! We spent the rest of the afternoon gradually giving up on any hope of nap time and considering it more of a rest time. The nurse button was only pushed four times by Harper during that time, just so you know. I’m sure they love me by now.

I’m pretty sure eight babies were born here last night with a few more this morning. This place is hopping right now. Going to see the babies is Harper’s utmost obsession lately. She really could care less about hangin’ out with me. Show her the babies! So, after their 12th tour of the nursery windows today, they headed on to the car and are going to do some window shopping around town. I mean, there is only so much “hospital room” any normal person can handle, and thankfully, today, I got my reprieve.

Blue Sky: 32 weeks, 4 Days

I’m thankful today for the window in my room and the view of the sky, which against all odds, is finally blue. I’m sure my  memory is askew, given the circumstances of my last few weeks, but I really don’t think I’ve seen the blue sky since New Year’s.

Dad stopped in for his early afternoon visit and tried to bust me outta here for some fresh air. Unfortunately, it was to no avail, though he fiddled with the window and nearly devised a plan that involved two-by-fours on the roof. It reminded me of the time I fractured my ankle in kindergarten and had worn this heavy plaster cast (up to my knee) for like a month. I was complaining about the cast- of course, not for the first time – the Friday before I was supposed to see the doctor to remove it the following Monday. Dad, certain I had healed, sat me up on the counter and stuck my leg in the kitchen sink, running hot water over that darned cast and ripping it away for about 14 hours, just to free me of my burdening enclosure a little sooner. I love that he’ll break the rules for me.

On the media front, which should probably become a regular column on this blog, since I’m watching what one might consider…a lot of stuff, I watched Breakfast at Tiffany’s  today because I had never seen it, even though it’s one of those films you’ll always pretend to have seen if it comes up in conversations. Like, who hasn’t seen that? But I had not, and so today, I watched it. It was funny. I mean, it was sad and sweet, but there were parts that were really hilarious; and I guess it was the fact that it’s so old that the humor seemed unique. Like, the party at Holly Golightly’s apartment and the way they portrayed the guests’ gradual drunkenness and the mobster named Sally Tomato. I also enjoyed very much the idea of a sterling silver telephone dialer for sale at Tiffany’s for $6.95. Who wouldn’t want one of those? Anyway, if you have not seen it  (I realize there is a chance all of you have), I would. Audrey Hepburn is stunning.

Medically, everything is just wonderfully stable. I get put on the monitor three times a day, and every time, I get feedback that indicates that Sam just couldn’t be better. I learned that the little surges in his heart rate are actually what they look for and hope to see a few times in a half hour or so. I met the midwife, Anika, who says that when they send the midwives in, you know you’re doing just fine because otherwise they would have sent the doctor. And I am doing just fine….just boringly fine….which is GREAT though, I keep reminding myself, because every day he is inside saves us three days in the NICU. That’s cool to think about. I’ve been here since Friday and so we’ve saved 15 days of NICU care in that time. I can live with that.

Bravo, Sammy.

And by the way, little guy, you are hilarious when the nurses put the monitor sensor on you. You hang still for ’em to find your beat, then, as they lean over to grab the strap to hold it in place, you make your squirmy getaway, you rascal. Then they’ll spend another ten minutes searching for you again. You have been dubbed “wild child” by a nurse or two, which, quite frankly, freaks me out a little. You’re not even out yet and we’re already chasing you down. B, we had better watch out.

**THIS JUST IN!! My nurse, Brigitte, just stopped in, having worked out a deal with the doctors which allows me off the floor in a wheelchair once a day!! Which means I can go outside!! Granted, I had to sign a consent form and she says it can be taken away, but I wanted to hug her none-the-less. Now if this weather will just hold strong a little longer?? I’m going outside.**

My Busy Day:32 Weeks, 3 Days

I know this sounds weird, but today was a busy day for being stuck in a tiny room.

At 6:00 this morning, the light flicked on and a woman rolling a little cart said she had come to take my blood (pressure; I was sure she said “blood pressure”), so I sleepily stuck out my arm for her and almost didn’t happen to realize she wasn’t strapping me with the velcro sleeve, but sticking my pin-cushion of an arm for blood. Ha! That was a fun way to wake up.

I also met the third of four OB doctors here as he came to check on me during early rounds. He discussed with me again the slight concern in the placement of my previa in that it covers my previous c-section scar. They want me to be very aware of the chance, though slight, of having to have a hysterectomy if they cannot remove the placenta without too much bleeding. I knew. I had already spoken with Dr. Smith and a very sweet nurse, Linda. Each described every detail of why and if  and how.

Later was an ultrasound with a tech from the specialist’s office. After that, Dr Rosemond, the specialist himself, stopped in to talk. He always gives me a more relaxed approach than everyone else. He reiterated that the risk of the hysterectomy was low. He told me I didn’t have to remain chained to the bed…but that I could not go jogging in the hallways. Guess I’ll have to figure out my happy medium. I ate lunch in a chair and took an extra long time standing while brushing my teeth and straightening covers. It was awesome.

After that, my Dad came to see me. We had good conversation and were also visited by a member of his church who brought the largest stack of magazines any tiny woman has ever hauled up to the third floor of a hospital! I should be set on day dreaming about anything Home-and-Gardeny, which is totally my thing. How sweet!

I worked on knitting my sister’s red cowl and watched Ellen for the first time all the way through. Thanks for the suggestion, Toppy. I loved it. Now you’ll all know what I’ll be doing at 4pm for the next few days.

Finally, my Mama came and brought me exactly what I had asked for- a box of cereal- which was accompanied by many things for which I had not asked; bath mats and towels (seriously, hospitals only believe in giving you a couple of washcloths to dry off with. Is there a reason for that?); brown sugar and cinnamon for my oatmeal, pens and paper and a magnetic pencil holder, and a couple more bags full of stuff. Then she gave me a foot rub. She. Is. Incredible.

Tomorrow after school, Harper and Brian will come over and I’ll cuddle with my big girl. I’m quite excited! She is a superstar, and seems so understanding when it comes to explaining this whole shebang. She is the only thing that has made me cry…more times than once…about this situation. I just miss her and I hate being gone from her when she can’t fully understand why I’m just not there  (I’m spilling tears everywhere right now. Hope a nurse doesn’t walk in).

Brian and I discussed that we would watch the same episode of Grimm on Hulu tonight at the same time, so it’s as if we’re watching it together, except he won’t have to fight me for the best couch space, and I won’t be able to turn my laptop up much louder than the machine that is keeping the blood flowing in my legs (stupid thing). That’s where I’m headed.

A Note to Sam: You are nudging me in the ribs like crazy right now. I don’t know that you have ever kicked me there, but seriously, go back to sleep. That hurts!

The Pregnant Woman in the Bed

A bit of an introduction to my musings in this space:

It really all began in Montana during the clear 2011 summer days while my husband, Brian, was taking graduate classes at Montana State University. Having travelled from our home in the mountains of Georgia to explore the great wide west for a summer, our adventurous spirits were soaring high. Harper, the loveably chatty, energetic 18-month-old, and I spent our days bike riding around our exciting town; from park to library; pool to the children’s museum, happily filling our time while Daddy was in class.

Long about the time I was wallowing in the strenuous decision of which desirable city grocery store I liked best, or maybe it was while  gazing in awe of majestic, snow-covered mountains from a shopping mall parking lot, a little seed inside had begun to grow…

That was 32 weeks ago, and that seed is now a wiggly, roughly four-and-a-half-pound, Samuel Montgomery.

He still lives in my belly.

This pregnancy went along as swimmingly as with my daughter’s, two years ago. At our 20-week ultrasound, we discovered three things:

1. Baby is Healthy

2. Baby is “definitely a BOY!”

3. I have a Placenta Previa

We left my OB’s office without much more worry than what we came in with, a bit of knowledge about what a previa is, and a 95% chance of it being nothing to worry about. Of course, we would have to follow up, just to make sure.

PLACENTA PREVIA

A previa is when the placenta decides to implant in a low-lying position, which can completely or partially cover the cervix (baby’s exit route). This happens in a good number pregnancies, but as the uterus stretches with the growth of the baby, the  placenta typically moves to the side and clears the way before the end of the pregnancy. It is in the rare cases that it doesn’t move (5% if I understand it correctly), which heightens caution levels a good bit.

I don’t intend to sound like any sort of medical reference resource, so I’ll return to my own story…

At 26 weeks, I went in for a follow up ultrasound which revealed with almost certainty that my “complete placenta previa” was here to stay. Here’s where they instructed me to “take it easy.” It was my first introduction to the difficulties any mama will encounter of refraining from lifting your toddler, a basket of toys, or a laundry basket out of necessity and habit.

I was prepped for the possibility of bleeding, and that in such a case, I needed to contact the doctor and make my way to the hospital immediately. I made it two weeks.

The first bleed was the scariest, just not knowing what was going to happen once I got to the hospital. They kept me for two days and the bleeding stopped. They sent me home on complete bedrest and that is where this little idea began…

I lasted a total of three weeks at home on bedrest as family and friends buzzed around me, helping out with the toddler, the laundry, the cleaning, bringing food, stopping in to chat, taking the toddler for a walk….so many helpful people in my life! And the husband  is a full-time champion, everyday.

I never quite got my idea up and running at home, but now I find myself in a comfortable room with a very caring staff around me and very capable and wonderful doctors looking after me 24-7. See, with a complete previa, there seems to be a strike system. Once you have had a certain number of bleeds, you get yourself stuck in the hospital with everyone just waiting for the life-threatening, unpredictable event that will rush me into a delivery room, and if little Sam is under 35 weeks, he will be gently welcomed into the NICU. That’s why I’m here.

I just needed a journal, so I would love for you to read along, if you care to. Comment if you love me like me, even a little. Life gets lonely (which is why I probably talked my Mama’s ears off when she came to see me tonight). I’ll try not to let this be a complaint outlet (i.e. the vent between mine and Becky’s room in college), but a compilation of thoughts and observations while I wait and wonder for this little bundle to enter the world. Join me.

Cheers,

MC