That’s What She Said.

Do you have ANY idea how many opportunities there are to throw out a “That’s what she said.” In the hospital?

Nurse: I can take it orally now.

That’s what she said.

Doc: You will feel some pressure.

That’s what she said.

Nurse: That’s a lot to eat.

That’s what she said.

Nurse: Oh I think I went up the bottom for both of those.

That’s what she said.

Nurse: There is goop all over your belly.

That’s what she said.

Nurse: I got some in your belly button.

That’s what she said.

Nurse: It hits pretty hard.

That’s what she said.

 Nurse: It’s just a little poke.

That’s what she said.

Nurse: I bet you didn’t feel a thing.

That’s what she said.

Nurse:  I bounced it off your skin.

That’s what she said.

This is less than a days worth.

See kids? Hospitals can be fun when you have a dirty mind!

I Don’t Like Your Face

“ I don’t like your heart rate Jennifer.” My doctor said at 7am.

“I’m sorry you feel that way. I don’t like your face.” I totally did  not say that but I really thought about it. A lot.

“Do you have any idea why it’s so high?” He continued. Cause now I'm a doctor.*

*It was 7 am. I was grumpy. I know I sound snotty.

“Well, this isn’t exactly Disneyland. Every time I see someone with a tag that says MD, I get more “facts” about complications caused by pre-term delivery. I relate it to that. What are your concerns?” I asked him.

“I’m going to check your thyroid and run a bunch of other tests.” He stated, in a dramatically serious tone.

“Ok… Listen, can my dogs come visit me?  It would do wonders for my anxiety.” I asked him.

“SURE! Here’s all the rules they have to follow. What kind of dogs do you have?” He brightened up right away….

Small Dog AND Big Dog got to visit me! Clint had to bring them up separately. Everyone loved Small Dog. He was soooooo well behaved. I’m still not convinced he wasn’t slipped some Benedryl. He slept on my bed for a few hours just like at home.

 Big Dog was excited too and, as usual, made it a show. Clint said he was stopped by security twice to verify she was ok to be in the hospital and she made a nurse jump when she rested her giant head on the counter at the nurses’ station. I’m guessing they don’t see too many 140 lb Dogs in Labor and Delivery.

My heart rate has been down ever since. SO THERE!!!

My tests results all came back fine too.

Hospital Bed Rest

Let’s recap: At 24weeks and 3 days, my water broke. The hospital then decided I had to stay here. I got anti-biotics for seven days and spoke to all kinds of perinatologists and NICU doctors. All of them have been totally Debbie Downers.

Perinatologists: Obstetricians who practice maternal-fetal medicine are also known as perinatologists. This is a subspecialty to obstetrics and gynecology mainly used for patients with high-risk pregnancies.^[1]

Nicu: A Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) is an intensive care unit specializing in the care of ill or premature newborn infants.

The first week was a lot of talk about things like “morbity” rates, “lung function” and my favorite “quality of life”.

Not gonna lie, it was rough.  

But every day we get more positive news. We have made it to 27 weeks and we WILL make all the way.

SEX!!!

I can't have any.



Grrrrrrr............

Hi. My name is…What? my name is... Who? My name is... I have no freaking idea.

When I was about 10 weeks pregnant, I had to pickup up something at the pharmacy. It was a busy night in the pharmacy lobby. I think it was cold season so people hung out and sneezed, coughed, and hacked all over. I stood in line and waited until they called my name. Then walked up to the counter, ready to reconfirm my name and birth date and deny a consultation from the pharmacist on the  proper use of stool softeners (yeah for being prego)

“JENNIFER!” I heard the familiar old voice yell.

Oops. That’s me.  I scurried to the front of the line (that’s right. I scurried. You go 8 days without a BM and I dare you NOT to scurry anywhere).

“Yup. Hi that’s me. All set? OK. What’s the damage? Here’s my card” I really was hoping to get out of here right away.

“I SEE HERE YOU HAVE A PERSCRIPTION FOR …. POLYETHYLENE GLYCOL. THIS IS A HUGE BOTTE TOO. YOU MUST BE ALL SORTS OF BACKED UP” I swear she yells just like that all the time.

“HAVING SOME TROUBLES THERE? IN THE LOWER AREAS? NEEDING TO POOP? SOMETIMES I FIND THAT A NICE BOWL OF SHREDDED WHEAT AND SOME RASPERB-“

“I appreciate the suggestion. I’ll give that a try. Here is my card.” I handed the card from under the register where I had crawled.

‘THEY SHOULD JUST RIGHT MIROLAX ON THE BOTTLE. YA KNOW THIS IS THE SAME STUFF ONT THE SHELF OVER THERE BUT WE CHARGE YOU MORE BECAUSE YOU HAVE PRESCRIPTION FOR THIS POOP START? CRAZY HUH? JUST LOOK OVER THERE. IT’S $5.00 LESS. WHAT A RACKET” 

 I went back under the register.

“OH HUN I JUST NEED TO CONFIRM YOUR INFO…. HON…”

“Oh yeah” I responded, slowly crawling out from under the front of the register.  “My name? It’s F. But it could be under B. I just got married in September and sometimes I forget if under my maiden name or new married name-”

“NO DEAR. I NEED YOUR FIRST NAME.”

“Of course. My name is …………………………………………… my name is…………………………………………..I’m…………………………………” OMFG I forgot my name. MY FIRST NAME!!! The same first name I have had for 30 years. It’s not even like it’s a unique name. It’s Jennifer! One of the most common names ever.Everyone knows a Jennifer.

This was way more embarrassing than the checker announcing to the entire lobby that I was picking up a giant bottle of stool softener.

“YES DEAR? YOUR FIRST NAME?” SHE ASKED ME AGAIN.

I just stared at her. I swear, I stared at this woman for 10 minutes. She stared back. No one moved. No one blinked.  Total silence. I’m sure it was really more like 5 seconds.

No matter how long it was, she eventually reached for the prescription bottle and broke the silence. “JENNIFER? THAT’S YOUR NAME.” It was a statement that meant our staring contest had ended.

“YES!” I shouted like she had just told me I won the stool softener lottery.

“Yes! My name is Jennifer! I knew it would come back to me. I felt so proud of myself.

“I’m sorry. I’m pregnant.” Like maybe this would justify my weird behavior.

And it did.

‘OOOOOOOOOOOHHHH.” The cashier said in understanding. “IT’S EITHER THE BABIES OR THE BOOZE THAT MAKE YA FORGET. CONGRATS ON THE LITTLE ONE.”

I beamed as I handed her my card and ran the transaction, stuffed the card back in my wallet, grabbed my purse and turned to go. I felt like I had won something more valuable than any tangible prize. I knew my first name!

“MA’AM! UHHH JENNIFER?” I turned around and looked at her again.

“YOU FOROT YOUR POOP MEDS!”

I Have MAD Ninja Skills

Bet rest can take its toll on your body. You lose muscle mass quickly and this can affect your ability to move suddenly.

Or so you think.

It was bed time, a very normal, typical bed time in our house. All the four-leggers went out for the last potty break. Husband and I got water and took my prenatals and other such stuff. Someone turned on the TV. The four leggers came back. Small dog jumped on the bed to start doing his nightly routine  of circling the same spot 589 times before he slept. 

Nothing unusual, that is, until my husband fluffed the comforter.

I didn’t know what it was, but it was dark and dense and it came flying at me out of nowhere and hit me in the chest.

“OH MY GOD!”  I screamed. I jumped straight up in the air, did some sort of X-Men, Chuck Norris kick and immediately landed on all fours on the other side of the bed (booyah!).

“WHAT THE HELL IS IT??!?!” I screamed, with a voice so shrill I believe I heard a bat crash into the side of the house.

“What? What is it?” My husband said in a tone of voice that clearly did not grasp the danger of the situation or seem impressed by my mad Ninja reflexes.

“ I don’t see anything. Calm down.” He calmly (and with no superpowers) stated.

“IT’S HUGE AND BLACK AND IT FELL FROM THE SKY AND I THINK IT BIT ME! GET IT BEFORE IT KILLS US ALL! I BET YOUR CAT BROUGHT IT IN! HE DIES AT DAWN! OH MY GOD, IT MOVED! WHAT THE HELL IS IT?!?!” (Another bat hits the side of the house).

“Babe, let me look….” He moves the blanket and peers over at this mystery thing.

“It’s a…”

“YES?”

“A…..hmmm?”

“You’re killing me smalls. What is it?” I’m speaking in non-sonar effecting tones now.

“It appears to be a ………………….. FRUIT SNACK!” He said and then…. He ate it.

The moral of the story is, don’t eat fruit snacks in bed and don’t underestimate yourself in a fight or flight scenario. You may develop super human-Chuck-Norris like powers, even at 6 months pregnant.

This Day Sucked. A LOT.

“I’m very concerned about your pregnancy”

This statement changed my life.

Earlier that morning I had woken up around 6. I had a horrible feeling. I could not stop crying. I was scared. Something was going to happen today. I knew it was going to be a hard day and it all had to d with the baby. I felt some kicks the night before but something just felt off today. 

Clint I talked and we agreed today was a big day and it was just nerves and hormones. Today was going to be exciting! Today we would go in for our 20 week ultrasound and find out if we would bring home a boy or a girl. Everyone was going to be there too; my mom, aunt, sister and her husband. It was a family event.

Clint suggested that he and I go in first just to make sure everything was ok and then have the family come in for the big reveal and we would all find out together.

Of course everything was fine with the baby. The tech asked me if I had felt any contractions. I thought that was an odd question to ask at 20 weeks. I told her I thought I had felt some Braxton Hicks here and there. She then said we would have to do a vaginal ultrasound later. That was fine with me. I had a healthy baby….. Something.

 The family came in and the ultrasound tech was great. She looked at the monitor and said “I would like to introduce you to your son.”

I cried. Ok, I sobbed. Clint I hugged each other. Everyone hugged everyone else. It was a touching moment.

I stepped out to compose myself so the poor tech could finish taking all the required pictures. Everyone else left and Clint and I got ready for the internal ultrasound… actually, he just sat there and I took off my pants.

The tech took the photos and said she was going to take them to Dr. So and So to be looked at. I wondered why they weren’t going to my OB but I was so excited to hear we would be having a Jackson I didn’t think much of it. The tech came back and said the doc wanted more pictures. Then she left again.

I was starting to get nervous. She came back again and said the doc wanted to see us in an exam room.

“WHY?” I asked. Knowing this poor girl couldn’t tell me anything. She said he wanted to look at them more. This didn’t make me feel any better.

I looked at my husband. “This is not good. They don’t take in a private room to tell you everything is fine on a routine ultrasound; especially not with some other doctor. I don’t like this.”

Clint did his best to reassure me that everything was fine as we were ushered into some exam room. The doc came in within a minute. He introduced himself and sat across from us.

“I’m very concerned about your pregnancy.” He waited for me to respond.

“Ok” That was all I could get out. I’m sure I looked very calm but it was my worst nightmare coming true. Was he going to tell me my baby was dying? Was I dying? Was it really a Velociraptor?

It all comes down to a short cervix. It was alarmingly short. The shortening of the cervix is one of the first things your body does before you go into labor. This is not good at 20 weeks.  A fetus cannot survive if it is born this early. We all know where I’m going with this…

I am at a high risk for “spontaneous preterm delivery”. This is different than preterm labor.

I was admitted to the hospital for observation right away. The doctors needed to make sure I wasn’t having any contractions and not dilating. There was a possibility I would be receiving a cerclage.

Stolen from Wikipedia:

Cervical cerclage (tracheloplasty), also known as a cervical stitch, is used for the treatment of cervical incompetence (or insufficiency), ^[1] a condition where the cervix has become slightly open and there is a risk of miscarriage because it may not remain closed throughout pregnancy. Usually this treatment would be done, in the second trimester of pregnancy, for a woman who had either suffered from one or more miscarriages in the past, or is carrying multiples.

After 24 hours, they let me go. No contractions. No dilating. NO CERCLAGE. This is good news. Who wants a giant needle in their vag? That’s no fun on any day.

I was sent home and sentenced to 20 weeks of bed rest with daily progesterone treatments.

Stolen from Wikipedia:

Progesterone also known as P4 (pregn-4-ene-3,20-dione) is a C-21 steroid hormone involved in the female menstrual cycle, pregnancy (supports gestation) and embryogenesis of humans and other species. Progesterone belongs to a class of hormones called progestogens, and is the major naturally occurring human progestogen.

I am only allowed to get up to go to the bathroom and take a shower. No more work.

The good news:

·         No more laundry.

·         I am making a wicked baby blanket.

·         I get to shop online for everything.

·         I am learning patience.

·         I am catching up on every TV show that ever existed.

·         My library is growing.

·         My family and friends are great.

·         My husband is my hero.

·         I get ultrasound pictures every week.

I think I covered everything. I am happy to answer questions.  Prayers, well wishes, and happy thoughts are always welcome and appreciated.

Until then, I’m chillin’ on the couch, with Big Dog and Small Dog, keeping my knees up and together.