So…It’s safe to say that the past two months have been a wild ride.  With almost 7 weeks and counting of being on bed rest, you would think I would have had the time to update the blog.   However, oddly, you’d be surprised at how much you can find to do (or your clients can find for you to do) while you're bouncing back and forth between your bed, the sofa and the hospital.   This, I am actually typing from my hospital bed on day two of visit 3 in less than a month’s time; I probably won’t get to finish it from here, however, because they just informed us (thankfully) that we will get to go home shortly.

Almost 2 months ago, now, I was put on what they called moderate bed rest.  15 minutes up (shower in the morning, lunch, bathroom, etc…) followed by 4 hours in bed.  Anyone who knows me well, knows this is not going so well…  Being still isn’t really my way of living.  Helpless, house bound, inactive, and basically unable to function normally---no.  Not going to happen without a fight…

However, when the Dr. tells you at 24 weeks that your cervix is shortening and it can cause pre-term labor—you listen.  Two weeks later, at 26 weeks, it had shortened drastically and was funneling internally.  The doctor sent me straight to Northside for monitoring, two steroid shots in the bum and one night without sleep later, I was sent home on what they then called “limited bedrest,” meaning-shower and bathroom privileges only for the most part.  At 27 weeks, they gave us a bit of false optimism.  My cervix had actually increased back to an acceptable length.  I was moved back to moderate bed rest.  The next visit, a week later, back to the hospital we go.  Again, over night, a few tests, and we were sent back home on bed rest. 

A week later we followed up with a perinatologist (a specialist that focuses on high risk pregnancies, multiples, etc.).  My cervix had actually lengthened this time, and he took us off of bed rest, briefly (through a weekend).  Then, Tuesday night, I started having contractions.  Back to the hospital.  Now, at almost 30 weeks (and 2 nights later in the hospital), we are waiting on some test results to come back to see if we are stuck here or get to go home.  They were finally able to get the contractions stopped.  After the first night of having one every 6-8 minutes (one which lasted 10 minutes by itself), two shots, and 6 IV fluid bags later, they don’t think there is any immediate risk of labor.

Oddly, I’ve been in bed for almost a month and half, but am completely exhausted.  The nausea has set back in as of a couple of weeks ago—which they have put me on zofran to try to prevent, but it isn’t touching it.   I haven’t showered since Tuesday (considering the IV in my arm, and the constant barrage of nurses), needless to say—gross.  And…my children are beating the ever-living shit out of me.  The girl is breech and consistently kicking my pubic bone-literally, and the boy (who has been referred to as a ‘wild child’ by the doctors), is transverse, spread from the left side of my rib cage to the right, and pushes with this arms and legs fully extended.  I am pretty sure that he has fractured one of my ribs.   I’m also pretty confident that my kids hate me.

What I can say is that my husband has been absolutely amazing through all of this.  He is constantly, and I mean constantly, there.  He is at every doctor visit, he cleans, he cooks, he grocery shops, he runs errands---he even returns all of my spontaneous online purchases that don't work out once they get here (since a large part of my days have consisted of online shopping lately).  While he can never really understand what I am going through or what it feels like, he is more a part of "our" pregnancy than I ever could have asked for, and more so than anyone else I have ever even heard about.  He's pretty awesome (and also very patient for dealing with my spontaneous outbursts that I have no idea are coming, how to stop them or even why they occur-when I find myself suddenly yelling or crying for no apparent reason at all--very--not me).  So, to him...thank you.  I love you.

So…I know this isn’t a fun or even mildly entertaining post, but this is the update I have been promising some far away friends and family for a while now.  It’s only taken me about 7 weeks to finish it and we’re now almost at 31 weeks.  We go back to the OB tomorrow (Wednesday) and the perinatologist on Friday—then we go twice a week for the duration of my pregnancy.  Woohoo!!   When most women have 2-4 ultrasounds during their pregnancy, I have had about 16 to date.

I have been prodded, poked, and violated in more ways that I can count.  Stretched, pulled, pinched, and stabbed.  I have been exposed and, what might as well be, publicly viewed by more people than I thought would ever see me nude in my life, and that list is still mounting.  I think of all the things I have experienced, what I have enjoyed least about pregnancy is the vulnerability, complete lack of control and the feeling of utter helplessness.  You have to totally surrender any sense of humility, privacy, personal space, and pride.  Then, in conjunction with that tremendous blow to your self-esteem, and more importantly, you have absolutely no way to control the overall outcome or health of your children.  Sure, you can take vitamins, eat well, don’t smoke, don’t drink, don’t eat soft cheeses or caffeine or artificial sweeteners, etc., etc., etc., but at the end of the day---you can’t do anything to ensure that they are perfect.  You can’t make them grow ten fingers and toes and have healthy functioning organs, but yet---they are growing inside of you, so you feel completely responsible none-the-less.  Compile that feeling of helplessness, with constant worry and concern, the vulnerability that you have to give-in-to with your own body, and just the constant discomfort and inability to sleep----and you feel like someone other than yourself.   But then again---you never really are yourself again after you have a child (or two).  You’re someone else entirely different—you’re their mom.  And, as exciting as that it---sometimes, it’s pretty hard to wrap my head around.