Tuesday, September 02, 2014
Baby 3 update
I've now hit the 40 week mark. Forty weeks of being pregnant. Yes, I am grateful don't get me wrong. I know there are some who would do anything to be in my shoes. I hope everyone who wants to be pregnant gets that chance at least once in her lifetime.
But for those of you who have been here, you know what I mean.
Can we commiserate for just a minute?
It's not just me.
Jeff has been beside himself for days now as this baby decides whether he wants to come out "early" or not. We had some false alarms over the weekend when I suddenly started having massive contractions in the middle of a restaurant.
No, these aren't the famous Georgetown steps from The Exorcist. This is Chancery Lane, in Hamilton where a new Indian restaurant opened up.
This is the location of the former Fresco's restaurant. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to comment on how good the food was at Ruby Murrays. Everyone at the table was raving about it (try the lamb chops!) Service was impeccable, and the menu looked solid.
Unfortunately, I decided to have a preggo moment.
It started out with the feeling of being incredibly hot. No matter how close I could get to the AC blasting, I was sweating. Like a flop sweat that just came over me. Then I decided to stand up and go to the loo, to stretch. When you are as wide as I am right now, you attract a lot of attention as you make your way between the chairs. I tried to avoid the eyes staring at the belly. Oddly, there was another pregnant woman seated by us who looked very concerned. She probably had the same thought I did - get some spicy food to get the baby out.
After climbing up the stairs (warning for those patrons who will require assistance) I returned to the table and tried to eat something. For whatever reason, I could barely eat a bite. I had specifically avoided eating much during the day in anticipation of the meal, but my body was not cooperating. I squirmed in my seat, unable to get comfortable as I began to notice the discomfort I was feeling was actually contractions.
I tried to ignore them, continued sweating, stood up again to stretch, walked around the foyer while concerned waiters shot me glances. I got back to the table and told Jeff I had to go home. Apologizing profusely to our friends, he walked me to Front St to hail a cab.
On the way there, I had to sit several times as contractions passed through me and I groaned. The steps were not very comfortable.
Once in the cab, Jeff went back to the restaurant to settle up while the driver brought me home. He asked me several times if I was sure we were going in the right direction. "The hospital is back that way ma'am."
"I'll be ok... get me home! I have to lay down."
It was a very quick ride.
Jeff got home quickly and we began a long night of monitoring contractions. My midwife was out of town, but had arranged back up who arrived and helped ease me through wave after wave of pain. She drew a bath, massaged me, applied hip pressure to ease the lower back pain, and guided me through the crests of pain that ebbed and flowed. After about two hours, I said it was time to go to the hospital. I couldn't take it anymore, and I was in tears.
Once there, Jeff pulled up to the ER, because the main entrance where the elevator to maternity is located, was closed. I don't know what happened to me, but I burst into irrational tears and refused to get out. Jeff started screaming at me, but my mind was telling me this was the wrong door. I didn't want to stand in line at triage while someone determined who should be seen first. Having been through this process in the ER before, I just couldn't make myself go through it again in this state. Jeff finally convinced me to get out of the car, and we were waived through quickly.
I got up to maternity, checked in, and was eventually put on a monitor. And then the baby decided he was just kidding.
Contractions slowed down, then stopped completely.
THEY JUST STOPPED. All those hours in pain, and they just stopped.
After an hour of being monitored by the nurses, and only being 2 cm dilated, I opted to go home and wait it out.
From midnight to 3, he continued playing with us. He gave us a few good contractions, then nothing, some minor little Braxton Hicks type things, then nothing. He moved around to let me know he was still in there, then silence.
I passed out.
The next night (Saturday) was more of the same.
Sunday, I woke up well rested. He hadn't moved at all! I worried till after breakfast, at which point he woke up and began kicking. He was having a little party in there. Nothing warranting attention, just a little "Hi! I'm still here," kind of uterus kicking.
Monday was another calm day. The kids were back from the US and spent the day with Jeff at the beach. I laid on the couch staring at my belly and half-heartedly folded clothes. What was this baby doing??
It's Tuesday now, and my other two are in school. I'm doing last minute things like adjusting the stroller, working out the mechanics of the breast pump I bought, paying bills, and organizing the meal plan for the next couple weeks.
I got some prep done earlier over the weekend.
Suvair Saran's meatloaf. My absolute favorite.
Cook's Illustrated Simple lasagna - adore.
I just don't know what to think about these preterm labor contractions. I've never been through this before with either Jordan or Mina. Both of them were induced for various reasons, but neither was preceded by long nights of crushing pain.
Jeff has his own share of complaints. Apart from the restless nights of me getting up, he is suffering through the coldest house in Bermuda. I don't dare look at the Belco bill. I just can't stop sweating.
How he feels.
How I feel.