So like I said, I'd had all of the pains coming inconsistently. Making things worse, there were a couple of symptoms that indicated my mucus plug had come out. I know that sounds gross, but it refers the build up of material at the base of the cervix to hold the baby and all that entails inside. So last night, concerned about the manifestation of stabbing pains originating at my belly button on top of everything else, I called labor and delivery.
The doctors told me what I had already figured- that until pain comes consistently, it isn't labor. Still, just wanted to be sure there weren't any complications. The nurse advised that I lay on my left side, drink a lot of water, and call my doctor in the morning to see what's up.
Well, I slept in until one, as I'm still on the boy's nocturnal sleep schedule, and then got up to go renew the registration on our car. I was going to call my doctor beforehand, but they were going to be out to lunch until 1:30, so I decided to do the errands first. Once I finally figured out where I was supposed to be, the line was so long and my back hurt so bad that I decided to screw it and head back. In the car, I called the doctor. The nurse who answered instructed me to go straight to Labor and Delivery, so I told her that they had told me not to the night before. She put me on hold, and my doctor got on the phone, curtly ordering me to go to the hospital right away. Great.
I was right by the hospital as it was, so I started to head over. Panic began to set in- I was SO not ready to have this baby! I kept trying to get a hold of the boy, but he wasn't picking up, so I had to text him. In the elevator on the way up to the appropriate wing, I was near tears. I kept thinking, I'm 21, pregnant, scared, and by myself- I can't be about to have a baby.
They hooked me up to all the machines and asked the typical battery of questions. The whole time I had to remind myself to keep breathing. I know it sounds absurd, but I felt like I was this impostor- like I was supposed to be screaming and bloody or not there at all.
After a little bit, the nurse informed me that I had developed an irritable uterus, which translates into a whole bunch of mini-contractions. So... not labor, but still painful. They had be drink Gatorade and sent me on my way. I'm dialated to one, meaning nothing is happening.
In other words, I wasted a whole bunch of time, and felt like a complete oaf. I had told myself I wouldn't be one of those women who cried wolf, and thanks to my doctor, I was in just such a position. Of course, now I'm in a whole lot more pain, but I don't want to make any more phone calls in case it just lands me back in that dumb hospital feeling like a moron. Great, right?
AGH.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Clock's a-ticking
So I know I haven't posted in awhile, and I apologize. For the record, Texas was fabulous. I was very happy to get to know the boy's family. The heat there is very humid, but preferable to the dry heat that is so pervasive in Kentucky. The drive back was pretty gruesome, but we did eventually make it. I still haven't recovered from the nocturnal way of life that the boy's house embraces. Granted, the baby doesn't really allow for a normal sleeping pattern to begin with, but I still feel like I'm simply pausing from running on the treadmill continuously each time I do catch a little bit of shut eye. I'd say I can't wait for the baby to arrive so I can get some rest, but that would make me an idiot, and despite a case of the pregnancy stupids, I'm not that dumb.
Actually, I'm just ready for her to arrive at this point. Braxton Hicks Contractions? They're supposed to be pressure- not pain. Unfortunately, Ava doesn't get that. I won't be in labor, but I'll totally be in pain, so much so that I'm pacing the hallways at night. I can't breathe regularly, despite the baby having dropped quite a bit. My back kills me, and I don't sleep for more than three hours at a time. I get dehydrated very quickly, and I can't do a thing most days. MISERY.
On a more positive note, when I got back from Texas, I went to the doctor, who said that everything looks good, my protein levels are where they need to be, I only gained two pounds in two weeks, and the baby is in the position she's supposed to be. Then she tells me I'm past due for an RH test (are we noticing that she fails to tell me about these important details? Kind of a trend...), so I had to go over to the hospital to get the test done and pre-register for delivery. The rooms look really nice, though I'm sure they'll be transformed in my nightmares to a version of hell once I experience the pain that accompanies a stay in one of them in real life. Still, it made it all that much more real. It's almost here....
Wait- IT'S ALMOST HERE. This realization kind of put me into a panic mode. Will I be a good mom? What if I screw her up? What if I make a mistake, and she gets hurt? Then I started to worry about the delivery itself. What if I'm too much of a wuss and I can't do it? What if the cord gets caught around her mouth? What if I die during delivery? I actually made the boy PROMISE he'd marry someone else so she'd have a mom if I did die. Can you say paranoid?
Now I'm just attempting to keep breathing. Four more weeks... four more weeks...
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Looking Forward, Looking Back
I'm in Texas right now, getting to know the boy's family a little bit better. The more time I spend here, the more I learn about him, and the stronger my love grows for him. He's just such a wonderful person, and his family is salt-of-the-earth. The support that we've received from everyone has been so fantastic, and I feel wonderful knowing that this little girl is going to have such a loving family, no matter what corner of the country she visits.
This emotion was recently juxtaposed with a blast from the past. One of my ex's (not a super significant one, just a few dates, but an ex, nonetheless) IMed me while I was watching the boy play video games with his brothers. He asked me what was going on, and it struck me that he probably had no clue what had been going on for what is today 34 weeks. So I replied, "Oh, nothing, just waiting for the baby to arrive."
Pause. A long one. Finally, he chimed back in.
"Oh."
After what seemed like another long stretch of time, he asked how far along I was, and then suddenly had to go. I couldn't help but laugh, because I knew that he was inwardly breathing an irrational sigh of relief, thinking, "I'm not with her."
Of course, we would never have wound up together, and both of us know that. We were about as compatible as oil and water. Still, I'm on good terms with a few of my ex's still, and the conversation where I announced the pregnancy always goes about the same way- awkward pauses paired with retrospective relief. As ridiculous as this may seem, I understand it. I remember when a past interest of mine and his current girlfriend became pregnant. I had chuckled to myself, thinking that it could have been me. Funny, now it is.
Granted, that was in high school, and a positive pregnancy test would have been a disaster at that point. Now, it's a blessing, and I can't wait. When I look back though, especially when thinking about the wonderful guy I'm with now, I can't help but think about how lucky I am that the baby is coming at a time where I'm with the love of my life. Someone up there was looking out for me.
So yes, conversations with ex's are amusing. Yes, the relief on the receiving end of the news is palpable. But I gotta say, I'm just as relieved to have this delivery come right on time.
This emotion was recently juxtaposed with a blast from the past. One of my ex's (not a super significant one, just a few dates, but an ex, nonetheless) IMed me while I was watching the boy play video games with his brothers. He asked me what was going on, and it struck me that he probably had no clue what had been going on for what is today 34 weeks. So I replied, "Oh, nothing, just waiting for the baby to arrive."
Pause. A long one. Finally, he chimed back in.
"Oh."
After what seemed like another long stretch of time, he asked how far along I was, and then suddenly had to go. I couldn't help but laugh, because I knew that he was inwardly breathing an irrational sigh of relief, thinking, "I'm not with her."
Of course, we would never have wound up together, and both of us know that. We were about as compatible as oil and water. Still, I'm on good terms with a few of my ex's still, and the conversation where I announced the pregnancy always goes about the same way- awkward pauses paired with retrospective relief. As ridiculous as this may seem, I understand it. I remember when a past interest of mine and his current girlfriend became pregnant. I had chuckled to myself, thinking that it could have been me. Funny, now it is.
Granted, that was in high school, and a positive pregnancy test would have been a disaster at that point. Now, it's a blessing, and I can't wait. When I look back though, especially when thinking about the wonderful guy I'm with now, I can't help but think about how lucky I am that the baby is coming at a time where I'm with the love of my life. Someone up there was looking out for me.
So yes, conversations with ex's are amusing. Yes, the relief on the receiving end of the news is palpable. But I gotta say, I'm just as relieved to have this delivery come right on time.
Monday, June 9, 2008
I'm such a baby- how will I deal with labor?
Owchie.
I'm hurting, and in a big way. It seems that the never-ending expansion of my breasts and stomach is taking a huge toll on my lower back. I can't be in one position for very long at all, be it laying down, sitting up or standing. It feels like I'm on my period I'll cramp up so bad. I'm exhausted all the time, and the baby looks like a small alien trying to tear her way out of my stomach. The only thing that makes me feel any better is hydrocodone, but I can't take it unless the pain is extreme because I don't want the baby to be born addicted.
This sucks.
I want her out.
I'm hurting, and in a big way. It seems that the never-ending expansion of my breasts and stomach is taking a huge toll on my lower back. I can't be in one position for very long at all, be it laying down, sitting up or standing. It feels like I'm on my period I'll cramp up so bad. I'm exhausted all the time, and the baby looks like a small alien trying to tear her way out of my stomach. The only thing that makes me feel any better is hydrocodone, but I can't take it unless the pain is extreme because I don't want the baby to be born addicted.
This sucks.
I want her out.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Happy Birthday to me...
Well, I am officially 21. I'm pretty sure this is the last "big" age benchmark that people actually enjoy and look forward to, which brings about a sense of sadness and relief. In some ways, it really does mean adulthood is here. I know, you'd think a baby on the way would have already heralded such an arrival, but if you think about it, most of the time, 21 year olds aren't necessarily adults. It's the "party age." I'm supposed to go out, get trashed and make a whole mess of mistakes. Not quite the case now. Not only would I arrest myself for child endangerment for getting trashed at this point (I was 32 weeks yesterday!), even after the baby comes, responsibility takes on a whole new meaning.
Don't get me wrong; I've never really been the party type. While the law may dictate 21 as the beginning of experiments with alcohol, reality says otherwise. I just don't like the taste of most alcohol, and those of you who know me know that I am a control freak, so that lack of control that accompanies drunkenness is far from appealing. So no, I'm not lamenting my loss of legal partying memories. It just makes a person think about decisions made.
I'm not trying to say I haven't already made my own slew of dastardly mistakes. I can list several by name ;-) but I won't. Still, instead of spending college as a college student, I opted for a more steady route. I haven't changed majors, really. I never pledged greek. The only organization I've been involved with is WKU Forensics, and while speech may be a lot of partying for other teams (or, in some instances, people on my own team), I've played it safe and by the rules. I've been with the same man for almost three years now, and that's unlikely to change, like... ever. Despite brawls with the family, I've remained very close to them. So basically, the majority of the stereotypes assumed when considering the "college experience," I left by the wayside.
I don't regret it.
Sure, I may not have a whole lot of rowdy stories to tell my daughter when she's older, but I have enough, and I was certainly there to help friends dig themselves out of holes they thought too deep. Plus, I wouldn't change anything for the world. I am in love with the most wonderful man I could have dreamed up, and changing anything I've done along the way might have altered where I am now. Certainly not worth the risk.
So perhaps sadness wasn't the proper adjective. Turning 21 brings a sense of ... melancholy? Nostalgia? Both? Hrm.
As far as relief goes... well, it's done. I've just never been in to throwing caution to the wind in a big way, and now that I've finished the set of teenage angst hurdles, I feel like it's more socially acceptable to be a fuddy duddy. Let's keep it real- they were calling me Mama Nelson long before Ava arrived on the scene, and with good reason. I've always been the Mama Hen among friends, and while before it was just a little weird (the boy thinks my expressions make me sound like I'm eighty, but I think making a mountain out of a molehill is a perfectly hip way to indicate exaggeration), it's now adult. Which I'm supposed to be. So I guess I'm finally acting my age? Or, well, at least close to it.
The next benchmark is graduation from college, and as pumped as I am to receive my degree and make the parents proud, I'll be a parent myself at that point, which kind of makes the piece of paper have less to do with personal accomplishment and more to do with providing for Ava. After that, it's marriage, which is kind of a given at this point. If the boy is reading this: THIS IS NOT AN EXCUSE TO SKIMP ON THE PROPOSAL. STILL HOLDING YOU TO HIGH STANDARDS, HERE. And of course, I'm such a girl when it comes to getting excited about the dress and flowers and music and... well, you get it. Still, because it's only a matter of time, and to be perfectly honest, I have most of what I want planned out already, it doesn't seem as overwhelming. Then comes baby. Oh, wait, I already did that! So I guess the next BIG thing is... turning 30? Haha, go figure.
Well, I may not be going out to get totally wasted tonight, but today will be enjoyable. I'm going to take a nice hot shower, and then the boy and I are going to go on a hike, do some mini golfing, and perhaps catch a movie. Leisurely, and Ava friendly, which is just what the doctor ordered. Cheers!
Don't get me wrong; I've never really been the party type. While the law may dictate 21 as the beginning of experiments with alcohol, reality says otherwise. I just don't like the taste of most alcohol, and those of you who know me know that I am a control freak, so that lack of control that accompanies drunkenness is far from appealing. So no, I'm not lamenting my loss of legal partying memories. It just makes a person think about decisions made.
I'm not trying to say I haven't already made my own slew of dastardly mistakes. I can list several by name ;-) but I won't. Still, instead of spending college as a college student, I opted for a more steady route. I haven't changed majors, really. I never pledged greek. The only organization I've been involved with is WKU Forensics, and while speech may be a lot of partying for other teams (or, in some instances, people on my own team), I've played it safe and by the rules. I've been with the same man for almost three years now, and that's unlikely to change, like... ever. Despite brawls with the family, I've remained very close to them. So basically, the majority of the stereotypes assumed when considering the "college experience," I left by the wayside.
I don't regret it.
Sure, I may not have a whole lot of rowdy stories to tell my daughter when she's older, but I have enough, and I was certainly there to help friends dig themselves out of holes they thought too deep. Plus, I wouldn't change anything for the world. I am in love with the most wonderful man I could have dreamed up, and changing anything I've done along the way might have altered where I am now. Certainly not worth the risk.
So perhaps sadness wasn't the proper adjective. Turning 21 brings a sense of ... melancholy? Nostalgia? Both? Hrm.
As far as relief goes... well, it's done. I've just never been in to throwing caution to the wind in a big way, and now that I've finished the set of teenage angst hurdles, I feel like it's more socially acceptable to be a fuddy duddy. Let's keep it real- they were calling me Mama Nelson long before Ava arrived on the scene, and with good reason. I've always been the Mama Hen among friends, and while before it was just a little weird (the boy thinks my expressions make me sound like I'm eighty, but I think making a mountain out of a molehill is a perfectly hip way to indicate exaggeration), it's now adult. Which I'm supposed to be. So I guess I'm finally acting my age? Or, well, at least close to it.
The next benchmark is graduation from college, and as pumped as I am to receive my degree and make the parents proud, I'll be a parent myself at that point, which kind of makes the piece of paper have less to do with personal accomplishment and more to do with providing for Ava. After that, it's marriage, which is kind of a given at this point. If the boy is reading this: THIS IS NOT AN EXCUSE TO SKIMP ON THE PROPOSAL. STILL HOLDING YOU TO HIGH STANDARDS, HERE. And of course, I'm such a girl when it comes to getting excited about the dress and flowers and music and... well, you get it. Still, because it's only a matter of time, and to be perfectly honest, I have most of what I want planned out already, it doesn't seem as overwhelming. Then comes baby. Oh, wait, I already did that! So I guess the next BIG thing is... turning 30? Haha, go figure.
Well, I may not be going out to get totally wasted tonight, but today will be enjoyable. I'm going to take a nice hot shower, and then the boy and I are going to go on a hike, do some mini golfing, and perhaps catch a movie. Leisurely, and Ava friendly, which is just what the doctor ordered. Cheers!
Monday, June 2, 2008
Blah blah blah... I'm boring myself
Pregnancy does not suit me. I feel totally useless. The past two days, I think I've been operating on this adrenaline rush. We had to move out of the townhouse, the house had to be live-able, and then last night we had guests, so I power cleaned. However, I now feel listless and worthless.
I woke up this morning, fully prepared to have some heavy duty transcription editing to do, only to receive jack taco. How fulfilling. To top it all off, I just had zero energy. It's not really a matter of being tired so much as being without motivation, drive or will. I can't find it in me to do anything. I have a headache, my arm has that soreness again, and the world seems daunting. This is especially amusing, since a lot of what I have left to do is busy work- not even difficult!
So what have I resorted to? Well, I feel a bit like a beached whale, laying in bed and inhaling episode after episode of Desperate Housewives while wishing I had something to do. I hope with all my heart that I have a smidge of energy tomorrow, because I really would like to get a dent made in my to do list before my birthday.
I woke up this morning, fully prepared to have some heavy duty transcription editing to do, only to receive jack taco. How fulfilling. To top it all off, I just had zero energy. It's not really a matter of being tired so much as being without motivation, drive or will. I can't find it in me to do anything. I have a headache, my arm has that soreness again, and the world seems daunting. This is especially amusing, since a lot of what I have left to do is busy work- not even difficult!
So what have I resorted to? Well, I feel a bit like a beached whale, laying in bed and inhaling episode after episode of Desperate Housewives while wishing I had something to do. I hope with all my heart that I have a smidge of energy tomorrow, because I really would like to get a dent made in my to do list before my birthday.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)