Practice Run

   Three days ago I thought Baby Blueberry was on her way. For the past two weeks I have been having contractions; painful practice ones that remind me that childbirth is a little bit painful.

    But Monday night they started, continued through the night, disrupting my sleep and kept going right into Tuesday. By the time we picked up Bean and Abu from school, they were rolling in every 2-4 minutes and lasting a minute at a time.
    And whew...they were painful. Suddenly, the practice contractions I had been having in the last two weeks were just minor aches in comparison.
    Hero Hottie thought we should probably go to the hospital. I agreed with him as soon as I could take a breath again. We sent the girls off to Grandma's, packed a few things, made a few calls, and left.
   He drove because frankly, I had trouble even climbing into the mini van because of how bad it was starting to hurt, let alone drive.
   At our hospital we have to check in through the ER, which I have to disagree with. Sending a pregnant woman through germ heaven seems a little silly. I tried not to touch too many things. And I stayed far away from the coughing patients waiting their turn.

   Now, during my last two deliveries, the hospital had certain policies and that was it. You had a choice...to agree with them. But this time, I wanted more control over my experience. I found a doctor that was open to the newer ways of looking at childbirth and allowed me to write a birth plan.
    (They aren't newer ways, I'm not taking the placenta home and eating it. But I want a less medicalized birth. Less policies and more just listening to my body.)

   Still, while I waited for the delivery nurse to come down and get me, I figured she would be bringing a wheelchair for me. I hate the wheelchair while I'm in labor. I don't like to sit down while I'm contracting but it's hospital policy. I guess a woman in labor can't walk anymore, even if she wants to.
   But when the nurse arrived, she didn't have a wheelchair.
   "I read your birth plan before I came down here. I saw that you want things as natural as possible so I figure you would probably want to walk."
   I was flabbergasted. Hell, yes I want to walk. And so slowly, because contractions slow you down, we walked to the maternity floor.
   And that was only the start of all the wonderful changes they had made to the concept of giving birth.
   First, the gowns were tailored made for a pregnant woman. Oh, my goodness. Seriously. How long did it take the medical system to realize that a laboring woman doesn't feel comfortable in a gown made for a 300 pound man? This gown was sewn to be fitted around my feminine form, with room for my huge belly. It was pink and soft and didn't leave a gap in the back so the entire world could see my bottom. I had been planning on just wearing my sports bra for delivery but I can deal with this gown. And on top of that...it has snaps in the front so later I can breast feed without stripping the entire thing off.
   The robes are soft, fluffy and pink. (Pink seems a little stereotypical for a pregnant woman but I don't care about the color.) They were real robes, not old, nasty hospital gowns turned backwards, and used as a robe. I wouldn't mind taking it home, it was so comfortable.

   I was taken into the triage room to determine if I was really in labor or just thought I was. The nurse offered me and Hero Hottie bottle waters, to stay hydrated. And then asked if I needed any juice and gave me a huge list to pick from. Wow. I was beginning to feel like royalty. I thought, from my previous delivery experiences, I was going to have to fight for a cup of ice cubes and some attention.

   She hooked me up to the monitors. Baby Blueberry's heartbeat was a wonderful sound and it was strong and steady. The other monitor to keep track of my contractions clearly showed that I was having strong, steady contractions. This had to be labor.
   I was breathing through the pain when they would hit, watching my uterus form a tight, little ball and then feel Baby Blueberry complain heavily afterwards, with lots of wiggles, stretches and powerful kicks. She hates being squished.

  The nurse checked my cervix. I was sure I was at least at 4cms. If not more. With these contractions I had to be quite a bit along.

  I think she thought so too, because she starts frowning as she realizes where I am at.
  "You're at 2cm." She says, sounding disappointed.

   Whoa. Back the delivery truck up. 2cm? That was it? Almost twenty four of contractions and over an hour of serious contractions and that was it.

    "Well," she says, "if you want to walk around the halls for an hour, we'll check you again and see if things pick up. Otherwise, you'll be better off at home."
    "Lets walk." I agree. I'm still contracting and I might as well try for a bit. But 2cm is depressing.
    She grins. "Just stay on the hardwood floor area. That's the maternity area. If you start walking the other parts of the hospital they get really nervous that you'll drop a baby on them."
    I nod and start walking the halls. It's a big loop and I have the entire thing memorize in an hour. I saw a couple of babies and they were so sweet. It made me want to hold Baby Blueberry. I can't wait for her.

   After an hour. Recheck. 2cm. Contractions are starting to finally...slow down. In three more hours they will stop.
   Damn.

   The next day I had a doctor's appointment. She says that can happen. The body is warming up, doing things in stages so when it's time, everything isn't changing all at once. My first two weren't like that, once I started with the contractions, I didn't stop until I had a baby.
   This little one is teaching me patience. Perhaps she got shy. She does tend to get really quiet and still when she hears unfamiliar voices.
   Perhaps she just needs a little bit longer.

   I just need to enjoy these last few days of quiet. Enjoy the wonderful feel of her moving in my womb and responding to my voice.
  I just need to remember that she made it full term and all those months of bed rest and taking it easy has allowed her to grow strong.
   Some time in the next two weeks Baby Blueberry will be here. She just wanted to test things out. Prepare herself for the real deal.
    She just needed a practice run.
   
   

Life on Hold but Changes Keep a Coming

   First of all, how am I suppose to keep up with all the changes in my life from my comfy spot on the couch? I feel like a spectator at this point instead of a participant---and it's only day thirteen of my modified bed rest.
    I should at least have a concession stand close by to purchase popcorn. :)

    I'm managing my life by phone, email and Facebook. It's a chaotic mess. I'll like to say I have it all under control. I'm sitting in the command seat with my computer, my phone and my schedule book and it all looks rosy.

   Oh, boy. Can kids survive off French fries every night for dinner for a month or two? It's a veggie right? I'll even buy the 'healthy' fries. Maybe we should switch to carrot sticks at least.

    Bean and Abu need brand new tights for their upcoming dance recital and of course I haven't figured out a way to get down to the dance wear store and purchase them. I could probably send Hero Hottie if he wasn't working so much but will he come back with the correct tights? Their dance school is picky. They have to wear a certain shade of pink or they won't be setting foot on that stage. Sounds strict and it is. Their teacher isn't crazy like the "dance teachers" on that stupid 'Dance Moms' show. She just a professional ballerina. She expects her students to be just as professional. And that's why Bean and Abu are enrolled there. I want them to reach for high (but not ridiculously soul crushing) expectations and they receive that at their dance studio.
    But I'm diverting from my original point.
    The problem I could have by waiting too long- they will run out of the sizes I need. Since they're the only place that sales exactly what I need you can see where this might cause a small problem.
    Countdown to two weeks before the show and I decide that I better call the store and see if they will put them to the side if I explain my problem. One great thing about living in a small town and dealing with a local business store is that they're usually super helpful and it was no problem at all to put the tights aside until someone can pick them up.
    Try doing that at Wal-Mart or Target. :)

   At least PTO stuff is easy to accomplish. I write a check and either send it in the mail, have someone pick it up, or give it to Bean to take to school and give to a teacher. 
    Another thing I needed help with; clothes shopping. Bean and Abu desperately needed new swimsuits for a field trip next week and since I can't walk around that long trying to find the perfect suit I called my mother in law to take them around for the afternoon. I sent them money and hoped for the best.
    Word of advice though. If you allow a ten and eight year to take their own money to the mall and Grandma is already paying for extra clothes beyond what Mom sent with them- they probably won't spend it on what you want them to. Of course, it's their money and I understand that but with that being said I don't want them spending twenty bucks of their money at the CANDY STORE.
   They came back with zombie brain soda (is this made out of zombie brains or will it turn you into a zombie?), gummy sharks and gummy peachy penguins. Abu came back with a giant orange gummy bear as big as the palm of her hand. It will take her a month to eat it.
   They are thrilled. Never have they had so much candy in their possession at one time. They can't stop talking about the candy store. I think they have asked every kid they know if they have been to the candy store at the mall. It's their fascination, their obsession, their favorite thing right now. I suppose they think I kept them candy deprived all these years.
   Which I have because it's not great for them and Abu is diabetic. But it's not to say we don't buy candy and we have even brought candy at the mall before. But it's not the same as spending over twenty bucks on big bags of candy at one time.
    Oh, well. I've read in financial columns that you should allow your kids a bit of money they can waste so they learn by the time they're adults that perhaps spending twenty bucks at the candy store is not a smart financial decision.

    But on the plus side of the shopping trip- the girls had a wonderful time with Grandma. I had a chance to rest without dealing with bored and bickering kids because we couldn't go do anything on a nice day and they had a chance to pick out outfits that maybe I would have steered them away from. Usually I show them which shelves or stands we can afford and let them pick from there. It's a nasty budget thing. But their Grandma is great and she tends to make a big sweeping motion of the entire store and say, "Lets shop."
   The outfits the girls came back are so grown up and stylish. And they are happy to have such delightfully new clothes for summer. And they're looking so grown up.

  All and all, we're surviving the chaos. I'm bored, the girls are a bit poorer and we will be tired of French fries and breakfast items by the time the baby's born.
  But,  I do have to say, Bean bought me a chocolate bar with her own money. And I can't complain about chocolate. :)
 

Under House Arrest

    So the universe always seems to function with a ironic sense of humor. Case in point: Hero Hottie takes more hours at work to earn some extra money since Baby Blueberry is on the way. He's not at home as much. The month of May is the busiest month out of my entire year. Bean and Abu have a dance recital every year and it's two week of living at the dance studio- or it almost feels like it.
     The end of the school year happens in the month of May around here- field trips, events at school and special treats that need bought. On top of that we have birthdays to celebrate.
     The yard and garden are begging for attention after being ignored for six long months of cold weather. 
     This month is even busier than Christmas time. It's a whirlwind of fun and very little down time.

     And then I find out that my week long modified bed rest is going to last right into June. Perhaps July. Oh, boy. So it couldn't have happened during a quiet month. Or a month that Hero Hottie might be home. No. It has to be right smack during the busiest time of the year.
      The month of May.

     Yesterday I went to my ultrasound appointment to check on my placenta. Everything looks great. It appears to be healing, it is slowly, very slowly moving away from my cervix, and Baby Blueberry was in there kicking the entire time I was having the ultrasound. It's quite a- this momma wants to cry- moment to watch her little, tiny miraculous feet kick at the same time I'm feeling it. The nurse measured my uterus and it's growth is right where it's supposed to be- big and getting bigger. I'm definitely going to feel like a wobbly whale on feet by the end of summer.
      And I had the chance to listen to the heartbeat. Which the tech had measured the heartbeat on the ultrasound but the nurse still took out the fetal doppler and let me listen to that wonderful sound. It's such a reassuring rhythm.
      Then Dr. S came in to discuss the results of the ultrasound. I would have asked the tech, because she would know but they hate it when you put them on the spot for info that supposed to come from the doctor, so I patiently waited for my doctor to tell me.
     "Things are great but the next four weeks are critical. I can't save your baby at this point should it decide to rip more and you go into labor. So it's modified bed rest for the next month, maybe two. No lifting, no housecleaning, no picking up small children, and limited driving and shopping. I want you taking it easy and resting."
        I'm sitting on the edge of the exam table and she has taken a seat on her twirly chair in front of me, and she is actually looking up at me while she speaks. She's a bundle of energy in a tiny frame, and a reassuring smile never leaves her face as she tells me I have to rearrange my entire life for the next few months to protect my baby. She places her hands on my knees, a gesture I can tell she has purposely taken to doing to connect to her patients but one that doesn't seem too intrusive. I take a deep breath and ask her all the technical questions because that is the way my mind works. I want details. Logical, matter of fact details. And she tells them to me.
    Okay, I can handle this. The outcome is looking great; I just have to rest. The doctor stands up to take one last look at my chart. When she turns her back, I suddenly feel overwhelmed and lost. Without the reassuring smile that speaks of hope; the tears start.
    Needless to say, when she turns back around she is shocked to see my silent sobs and the tears pouring down my face. She rushes over to me, then abruptly turns around and grabs a handful of tissue. She shoves them into my hand, squeezing my hands in reassurance as she does. I wipe my eyes and wonder why I put mascara on, because it has now smeared.
    "It's right under your eye." Dr. S says gently, like a Mom would, pointing to the area on her face. I wipe it clean, giving a small laugh as she has to point out another two areas with smeared mascara. Finally, I stop my tears and she looks me straight in the eyes and tells me it's going to be okay.
     Deep breath. Breathe. Have faith. What a difficult concept right now.

     I take measured steps to the car, now mindfully aware of taking my time to walk, to move my body, to protect my baby. I have to consciously slow down my usual, in a hurry self and feel my movements. It's not completely unwelcomed. I forgot how nice it is to just walk and take one's time to enjoy the process, rather than rushing, rushing, rushing.
    I should probably enjoy it now, since when Baby Blueberry arrives I will unfortunately be back to a hectic mode of living. But it would be nice to slow that down too, especially since I didn't expect this baby and I would love to enjoy each stage, knowing just how fleeting and brief they are.
   Because it won't be long and she will be trying to keep up with her older sisters and nieces. Perhaps she needs to savor her quiet time too, since she'll be busy as soon as she's born.