Shirley's chances of being an only child go up with every trip we make to MPHS' Labor and Delivery triage.
And thank God the health insurance kicked in on the first!
I had regular contractions pretty much all of last week, but they only happened when I was standing or walking. And if the contractions go away if you're lying down, it's not "real labor." (To which I would like to point out that if it's called "false labor," it should NOT cause real pain.) The OB told me she wanted me to stay off my feet as much as possible ("no sex, no vacuuming, no scrubbing the floors." If I don't feel like having sex, what are the chances I'm feeling like doing heavy-duty housework?) and wouldn't let me go back to work until after Shirley arrives.
While the idea of not having to get up at 0500 five days a week does have a certain appeal, the lost income worries me. We've had worse financial crises in the past and God has gotten us through them--but the fact that rent and utilities here equal what my monthly paycheck was in Kansas makes me a bit nervous.
So I spent most of last week laying or sitting on the couch. All went well until church yesterday afternoon, when I started having contractions that didn't go away when I laid down. So off to the hospital for yet another round of baby monitoring, followed by IV fluids and more good drugs to make the contractions stop. (Terbutaline is a very useful and powerful medication. Unfortunately, it also makes me feel as though a gerbil on methamphetamine is running around inside my head.)
And now I'm officially on bed rest (I can get up to the bathroom, and take a quick shower, but other than that I'm expected to be laying down. Good thing this couch is well-padded--I would have hated to do this on our last one!) until Shirley shows up. The doc also put me on meds EVERY 4 HOURS to make the contractions stop and hopefully ensure that Shirley arrives on time, rather than seven weeks early.
I can use a laptop laying down, but knitting and spinning from this angle require some creative arm movements. I'm not sure how much I'll be able to do. Which really is a shame, because that Mongolian cashmere/mulberry silk top is calling to me.
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1 comment:
Mother Nature has a gift for messing with our minds. I'll leave your name with the pastor of the church where we play.
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