Fallen Off the Face of the Earth

Last Friday I got a phone call from the blog police (aka: Chrissy). It was brought to my attention that I have become woefully behind in my posts. So sorry...I don't know what happened...(Well, technically I do. But I doubt I could have prevented it at the time.) I did start a post that was nearly finished before I left work that day. I had fully intended to just pop downstairs when we got home and finish up the last few lines before publishing it--but apparently it wasn't meant to be. Let me catch you up:

(Disclaimer: I haven't edited/altered this bit to fit with the rest of this post. I just left it the way it was before I left for home. Also, please be warned that this post is horrendously long because of how much time I'm trying to make up for...)

Monday
Chrissy and the girls came up to my house intending to help me start stitching the slipcover for the baby's chair. (It's been all pinned and fitted for nearly two weeks, I just can't summon the courage to undo all the pinning...) However, we discovered after about an hour that Lila is very allergic to my cat, so we wandered around local quilting shops until it was time for my OB appointment in the afternoon. (I may have splurged on one or two items for the nursery...but in my defence, I don't know if $15 for multiple items really falls under the "splurge" category so much as the "you'd be stupid not to take advantage of this awesome deal" category. And I have to start getting everything ready for the baby while I can still move around, right? I have nightmares about bringing baby home to a room that's half painted and still stacked with storage boxes.)

Anyway, after the crafting tour, we went to the doctor's office to check up on me and the baby. I'm good. Baby's good. Everything is on track--maybe even accelerated a bit because she is measuring a little over a pound ahead of schedule. The doc told me to watch my pasta/potato/rice intake just in case...I reserve the right to silence on how well I've been able to follow that advice.

Tuesday
I was going to go back down to Chrissy's house for another sewing marathon while Patrick was at work. But about halfway there, Patrick suddenly turned very ashen and said he felt like he might vomit. So he called in sick and we went back home to have a lazy day in front of the TV when we weren't taking turns in the bathroom. I started knitting an adorable little teddy bear that just has to come to the hospital with us...y'know, when the time comes. Luckily, it seems like he just had some kind of 24 hour bug so I made chicken pot pie from scratch for dinner late that night. It was super yummy, but it was so late by the time we finished eating and I had to work in the morning that I neglected to clean up afterwards. *Sigh* So much for my clean kitchen streak...

Wednesday
I had to work a 12 hour shift. While I had a few busy spots, it was mostly slow during the day so I finished knitting the bear I had started the day before. (Now it just needs a cute little face embroidered on it and some fabric stitched inside the ears and paws.) I got a big ego boost as the bear made its way around the nursing staff during After Hours and everyone praised/marveled over it. I'm so excited to see my little one finally playing with it one day...

Thursday
Another 12 hour shift at a different clinic. It was so slow. I started to work a pair of fair isle mitts and got about halfway through the first one before I decided I didn't like the way it was knitting up. I still like the pattern, but I might have to try a different yarn or something...so I ripped it all out and spent the rest of the evening chatting with the nurses and lab techs until we were finally given permission to leave. (We had someone check in one minute before closing and ended up staying an hour late. Ick.)

Today
My last 12 hour stint this week. It was super busy today, which was mostly good because it made the day go faster--but I'm not sure my little passenger appreciated my near-frantic pace because she's been punishing me for it all afternoon by sticking her toes up between my ribs and giving me very sharp pains. We also got a free lunch from Boston's Deli today and it was delicious. I may have totally ignored the whole potatoes/pasta/rice thing from earlier in the week...

Today has also been the day of hilarious patient comments. My very favorite one was:

4 Year Old Girl in Waiting Room to me: "Hey, Lady! Do you know there's a baby in your tummy?!" (This she shouted over the reception counter when she saw me stand up to head back to the exam room. So I semi-shouted back.)
Me: "No Way!"
Her: "You do! And it makes you walk funny! My mom walked funny when she had my baby sister in her tummy!"
(At this point mom rushed up to curtail any further conversation, but gauging from the widespread snickering, I'd say we were a big hit with the waiting room crowd.)

**This is where I originally left off, and where I'll pick up the rest of the story.**

Patrick came to pick me up from work on Friday, as is our norm at the moment. The clinic isn't very far from our home so it's just a 10-15 minute drive depending on traffic...but that night it felt much longer. Just a minute or two into the drive I felt the worst cramp I've ever had in my life. It felt like it wrapped all the way around from my back, across my belly, and down my legs. I could hardly breathe or move. It lasted about 30 seconds and then started to fade. But I didn't really notice the fading of the pain because the baby suddenly started moving around. A lot. And very violently. Then a few minutes later it happened again.

I tried  to stay calm and keep an eye on the clock--just in case. I had about four of these monster cramps about 10 minutes apart over the next 40 minutes. I was in the middle of the third one when we got home and I immediately walked in the door and stripped down to get in the bath. Patrick was right behind me to keep me balanced and to help walk--at this point my legs were oddly tingly and not very steady. He drew the bath while I sat and tried to catch my breath. When I felt ready, I tried to stand up to get in the tub and felt another twinge heralding the onset of another cramp...I didn't mean to, but I must have grabbed the toilet paper holder for support, and I accidentally ripped it out of the wall. There's now a rather largish hole in our bathroom for Patch to fix. Oops.

Anyway, once I was in the water things started to mellow. The cramps were less intense and further apart and the baby settled down. I didn't think that I was having real contractions, but the fact that the pains were so regularly spaced worried me. We debated about calling the doctor or going in to be seen, but decided to wait and see how things went. After all--everything I've been reading says if the pains go away when you change position or get in a bath, etc. then you probably have nothing to worry about. So I made the command decision that I would call in the morning just to check in with my doctor and let her know. My body was totally exhausted after this, and I slept deeply and well that night--helped off to dreamland by a light massage from my husband...

Cue the alarm for the next morning. Patrick had to work a long shift, so I planned to stay at home and take it easy watching General Conference. I called my doctor's office after seeing him out the door and didn't get an answer, so I left a message. I got breakfast and settled in to be spiritually uplifted. And I was--and would have been even more so if it wasn't for this nagging thought at the back of my head that something was "off." Finally, near the end of the morning session, I realized that I hadn't really felt the baby move at all last night or this morning after the cramp marathon. Sure, she's most active at night, but I still usually feel some pretty strong and steady kicks after I eat breakfast. I called and left another message with my doctor's office and went to drink some milk and eat a few crackers then to lay down and do a kick count. I noticed one or two little flutters, but nothing like I was used to.

I started to get worried. And frustrated--because I couldn't seem to get a hold of anybody. Finally I ended up just calling our Urgent Care Nurse Hotline. It was a relief to have someone pick up. I told her what happened last night and what I was feeling this morning, and asked if she knew of another way to get a hold of Mari (my OB). She didn't, but she said she'd find out and call me back in a few minutes.

While I waited--trying to keep the worst of my "first time mom freak out" at bay--I called my sister to see if I could come down for the afternoon. Maybe being on my own was giving me too much freedom to psych myself out, I reasoned. Unfortunately, she had plans to go to a bridal shower. Such is life, but I will admit I had about five minutes of pure hysteria as my brain whirled through the possibilities of something being wrong with the baby and it being my fault because I didn't call last night like I should have, and now I was kind of stranded at home because Patrick had taken the only car with gas in it, and my doctor wasn't answering my calls...and so on. I may have sent several panicky texts to Patrick while I was at my most unstable...poor guy. Luckily I was interrupted by a phone call from the UC nurse.

She said that Mari was apparently out of town and gave me the number to talk to the on-call OB at the hospital. My stomach sank. Hospitals mean serious medical problems and serious co-pays in my mind. Both equally overwhelming prospects at the time. Nevertheless, I was about to call when my phone rang. It was my brother-in-law, Brian. He and the kids were out on a drive heading toward my area and wondered if I'd like to join them. (He was definitely an answer to my prayers!)

I took a deep calming breath and called the hospital. They have a weird operator answering service that I hadn't anticipated. So after outlining my situation, again, the operator said she would pass the info on to the doc and that I should keep my phone by me and wait for a call within the next half hour. Brian and the kids arrived and we drove around town looking at his childhood homes and schools while waiting for the doctor to call. It was a great distraction.

Finally, the doctor did call, and after asking a few more specific questions he told me I should come in to get checked, just to be on the safe side. I sent Patrick a text to let him know what was happening--he replied that he was on his way. Brian was very accommodating and chauffeured me over to the hospital. They all came inside with me while I was checking in, but because the kids weren't immediate family (and too young)  so they couldn't stay. I said goodbye and went to the room alone trying not to think the worst--and yet also afraid to hope for the best, because that would mean I just wracked up a big ol' medical bill for no reason--it was all somewhat much to take in.

Patrick arrived after they had finished asking me their gauntlet of questions, and things became much more bearable with him around. They hooked me up to the monitors first thing, and then I had to pee in a cup, and get swabbed, but luckily no other tests were needed. Everything was fine. They were even able to track down Mari by the end of everything to check what her orders were. (Stay lying down as much as possible over the weekend and call for reinforcements if I find myself facing the same kind of pace at work again.)

 The most likely scenario is that I overdid it a bit on Friday and my round ligaments ended up fighting back. The baby probably didn't move as much afterward because she was either worn out by the experience too--or it kind of rocked her into a deep sleep. I'm choosing to think the former because otherwise I would get really annoyed by the thought that she could let me worry and suffer in silence like that. (Not that she could actually communicate what's up with her at this point, but still...)

So, that brings us almost up to date. I was prepared to have a relaxing weekend, but it didn't work out as I planned. What a shock.

I woke up Sunday morning with a tickle in the back of my throat and by the end of the night--despite drinking copious amounts of fluids and resting--it had turned into a full blown head cold. I was stuffy, aching and miserable all night. I took some medicine under Patrick's careful direction--he's been very good about double checking what's safe for me to take and in what dosage--but I still spent all day yesterday in a congested haze. The one time I was out of bed longer than it took to go to the bathroom, I got totally winded and the floor started to feel like it was tilting. By about 11 pm the congestion started to move out of my sinuses and into my chest. We spent the night on the couch--well Patrick did. I tried to sleep while sitting upright in a cocoon of pillows and blankets he made for me on the floor space between each side of the couch--it offered me the most support for my aching back. I dozed a bit, but I gave up around 4 am and decided to come mess around on the computer and try to catch up on the blog instead of lying there thinking about how much it hurts to breathe.

I sure hope today goes better, or I might not be making it in to work tomorrow...