Our Night in L & D.....

Well, I suppose it was bound to happen - After catching a horrible cold towards the end of last week, combined with horrendous swelling in my ankles, feet and hands last Thursday and Friday, my uterus is determined to be "irritable."

First, it's not so much fun to be sick when you're pregnant. My OCD attempts to avoid catching a cold were unsuccessful; apparently no amount of lysol wipes, handwashing and purell could save me from the sore throat, tired eyes, and stuffy nose that have plagued me for almost a week now. In case you were wondering, it's hard to sleep when you can't breathe, and it's even harder for your husband to sleep when you can't breathe and snore like a banshee as a result. Poor Frank.

The swelling started suddenly towards the end of last week as well. I was pretty amazed at the size of my feet and ankles last Friday night. Who knew that my chicken legs were capable of sporting cankles?? Interesting. I decided that the cold combined with the swelling called for a weekend of self-imposed bed rest. And it was nice, let me tell you. Frank was wonderful, fetching things for me, helping me, making me food. By Sunday morning, the swelling had significantly reduced, and I was feeling much better. From time to time during the weekend though, it felt like I was having contractions. I didn't pay too much attention to them though, and it seemed like bed rest with plenty of gatorade and water would do the trick.

Monday morning, I headed into work ready to start my week. Around 10:30 AM, I felt the first braxton hicks contraction kick up. For giggles, I pulled up contraction master, just to keep track for my own personal sanity. By 3:30 PM, I'd had around 20 contractions. I had not had more than 6 in an hour - but decided to call my Dr.'s nurse just to make sure I didn't need to go get checked out. She responded that if I did have more than 6 in an hour, I needed to call the on-call Dr. and receive instructions. I left work early, around 5 pM, and headed home to get into the bed. I really thought that once I got home, put my feet up and killed a 32 ounce gatorade (my 2nd of the day) that they would stop. Apparently my uterus had other ideas.

20 minutes into the season premiere of Gossip Girl, I've had 7 contractions in the past hour and it was time to call the on-call Dr. She explained that Dr. Straughn had told her that I'd probably call (see why I love my Dr?), and that they'd decided if I was still contracting that I needed to go on into L & D to be monitored to make sure I wasn't progressing. So, I get out of the bed, put on some comfortable clothes, grab the bag out of the nursery closet that I've had packed with washed clothing and toiletries since I hit 28 weeks, and tell Frank it's time to go. My sweet husband then proceeds to brush his teeth (with the electric toothbrush, which cannot be interrupted in the middle of it's 3 minute cycle), change his shirt, put on his shoes, tuck in his shirt, put on a belt, find his cell phone, put up the dogs, and THEN (10 minutes later) help me out of the house. Frank is a funny, funny man.

We made it into L & D, and they immediately hooked me up to a contraction monitor and fetal heartrate monitor. Franklin hates the fetal heartrate monitor. To say hate would be putting it mildly, honestly. He proceeded to kick and poke and squirm away from the monitor for the next 12 hours. I am not over-exaggerating. But I digress- after the 50 questions from the nurse (including "Does your husband hit you?," "Have you ever been abused?") it was determined that I was, in fact, contracting, and that my uterus was extremely "irritable." Then, the fun part of all pregnancies, the internal was required to determine if I was progressing or dilating as a result of the contractions. Holy mother, if I never have another one of those in my life it will be way, waaaay too soon. Uh, hello?? Those things HURT! I hope to avoid experiencing them again anytime soon. Luckily, no progress - no dilation, and mere "preterm" contractions instead of preterm labor was diagnosed.

However, the medicine that they typically give to stop the contractions increases your heartrate, and the Robitussin DM that Frank had so graciously picked up for me on his way home from work to help me breathe had already caused my heartrate to increase quite a bit. They were unsure for a while that they would be able to give me the brethene, but eventually decided that they would administer the drug and monitor my reaction to it. At 10PM, I got the shot. By 10:15, I thought my heart was going to beat out of my chest! That stuff was potent, but seemed to ease the contractions. I was stuck in L & D for the next hour so they could monitor my heartrate, and at the end of the hour the contractions had slowed from 3-7 minutes apart to about 4 per hour. Much better.

Unfortunately, not good enough to go home. Frank and I were told that we'd be heading up to the Perinatal ward to spend the night, so they could monitor the contractions and Franklin. Here's where the bag came in handy... They put me in a room, and Frank was able to run to the car to retrieve my pj's, pillow, and toiletries. We settled in around midnight, and Frank seemed to drift off to sleep fairly shortly....

Me?? Not so much. The brethine gave me the shakes, a headache, and kept my heart racing. I had to beg for tums (not their fault, they have to get them from the pharmacy apparently), and I still couldn't breathe from the cold. Franklin was also extremely uncooperative... He rolled, he punched, he kicked, and he tumbled away from the fetal monitor, which resulted in an interruption by the nurse about every 30 minutes to reposition his fetal monitor. Around 1:15, he decided to get the hiccups. Hiccups on a fetal monitor have a very strange echo, and are extremely loud. He gets them regularly, and these lasted for 45 minutes. By 1:45-2AM, I was starting to drift off to sleep, but it seemed like my contractions were getting a bit more intense...every time I'd almost be asleep, a contraction would wake me back up. The nurse came in around 2 AM with another dose of Brethine, this time orally, and explained that my contractions were averaging 2-4 minutes apart at that point. The oral dose didn't have quite the hit that the shot did, luckily, and around 45 minutes later the contractions had slowed and I hoped I would get some sleep.

Finally, around 4:15-4:30, I was able to drift in and out of sleep, and it seemed like Franklin had decided to calm down as well. Frank and I both stirred around 6 AM, and luckily I wasn't feeling many contractions at all. I was able to order breakfast from my hospital's "on call menu" and it was actually good! It was really nice to be able to pick what I wanted to eat instead of being forced to eat whatever they hospital decided to make for breakfast. After breakfast, Dr. Straughn arrived for a chat. Luckily, since I was not progressing, she decided to let me go home. I have instructions to take it easy, and am to orally take the brethine when I feel the contractions kicking back up. If the contractions subside, then they are still preterm contractions. If they don't, then apparently it's preterm labor, and we have to go back to L & D. So here's hoping that they just work themselves out, and that the brethine does the job.

The bad part of my trip to L & D = taking the brethine. It gives me the shakes, a headache, and increases my heartrate to the point where it's hard to rest. I've had probably 1 hour of sleep at this point, and I am still finding it hard to wind down. That's pretty harsh towards the end of pregnancy, where it's hard to sleep anyway. To top it off, spending a night in L & D knowing that I'm not coming home with a baby (although I'm thankful for that) SUCKS. I can handle uncomfortable beds, nurse checks, etc. if I get a cuddly, squishy baybee at the end... knowing I get to go home, still pregnant and fairly miserable stinks.

The good part of my trip to L & D = Frank has now had the whole "honey, it's time to go!" labor experience. The gown, the monitors, the internal, the whole thing. We also figured out a few extra things that need to go into the bag, and have the parking situation down pat. It was, for all intents and purposes, a trial run. And I'm glad for that -- I like to be prepared, after all. I think Frank probably feels like he knows what to expect now too.

Let's hold our breath for the next three weeks! Once I hit 34 weeks, all will be well and there's a great likelihood that Franklin will have little to no NICU time if he decides to make his appearance early. 19 days and counting....