Greetings from B-7 at Northside hospital. I don't have continuous access to the Internet due to:
-bathroom breaks every 20 minutes
-visits with the perinatologist
-full body assessments by every nurse employed by this hospital
-shots of terbutaline
-dissecting the hospital's vegetarian fare (much better than standard!)
-attempting to get naps in with two abdominal monitors, an IV, a blood pressure monitor and an inevitable warning beep of one of the damn machines
-getting meds every few hours
-showering--oh wait--haven't done that in three days. Request is in with my doctor and peri--isn't that sad when the state of things is that you need clearance from your OB and peri to wash yourself?
BUT, I try to sneak open my computer to check e-mail, facebook and some trashy celebrity site like Perez Hilton because television is just about sending me into convulsions with the Tiger Woods scandal. At least Perez has some diversity. (Did I really just say that?)
I am more than happy to receive calls, but don't have great access to my phone (see list above) and to be honest, have moments where it needs to be just me and my cervix--in deep conversation, working to an agreeable middle ground in this whole precipitous labor.
I got some discouraging test results from the perinatologist yesterday, but the dream is still alive--getting to 35 weeks. Nana is flying back down to help out--God bless her. Funny how with my last pregnancy, the week after she left from a baby shower, I delivered Miles. The pattern is clear--send your mother home, and the baby will come.
I just want to say how happy I am to have my mom down here, but my heart hurts a little knowing she is going to be away from my father and my brothers for Christmas AND her birthday. Thankfully, I was able to get my mother's b-day present to her before she flew back down here. A friend of mine makes AMAZING custom sillouettes with paper (and then can inscribe them in beautiful calligraphy), and I knew it would be the perfect gift for my mom. I am actually kind of jealous and may just have to get one of Miles and Kilo myself sometime! I highly recommend employing Pam for this one of a kind gift. Visit her etsy shop here, or e-mail her at firstname.lastname@example.org Isn't it insane how much it looks like Miles? It was a little difficult getting him to sit still so I could take his profile picture to send to her, but the results speak for themselves!
Off to supplement my lunch with Trader Joe's Dark Chocolate Covered Peppermint cookies--oh yes. The BF Mama D dropped them off the other day. It's the little things...like the insane amount of support I have received from Facebook friends, from family, from prayer chains, from people at work, from my mothering.com due date club, from Eric's school, Eric's adult running group (I even found out one of them has a dog who participates in the "happy tails" program where if I make it to Friday, I can get a visit from a therapy pooch!)...it's just overwhelming. Miles's childcare director (aka surrogate g-ma) and co-worker (I'll call her Marcia Cross, b/c she looks like her) came over last night and sat with me after I got the disappointing news and cheered me up! They also gifted me with some lovely lotion encrusted socks (how does that work) with grippers on the bottom so I can wear them at the hospital, and some amazing lotion. It's the little things. One of Eric's students even prayed for me, unprompted, at school yesterday (they pray quickly before every class). I mean, golly...
Here's to adventures in spending as many holidays as I can at the hospital. Maybe we can decorate the IV pole with lights and bring some presents to the floor on Christmas...
33 weeks and 1 day today. It will be a miracle to get to 34, so right now I am just aiming to take it day by day. I am pretty sure we are set on a middle name, and am finally getting excited to share this little boy with the world--just not quite yet. I think only one person, Aunt T, has guessed the first name (although, it was in a LONG list of names she predicted). The childcare is convinced it is Fritz, and Uncle Frank thinks it is Pankratz (ha ha!). It's not either...
I finally broke down yesterday after I got the unfavorable test results AND had the NICU nurse come and do a consult with me. It just brought back a ton of memories--the NICU is just not a place I want to inhabit again. Here's a classic snipit of the convo yesterday:
NICU nurse: "do you know what you are having?"
Ali: "A boy"
NICU nurse: "well, the truth is that little boys, especially white boys, don't fare as well as, say, little black girls. We call them wimpy white boys."
Ali: "If I do have a little black girl, we have bigger problems than I thought."
Maybe I AM Tiger's 25th mistress...