Skip to main content

The beginning of the long, drawn out end....

30 days to the due date. I'm actually finding myself quite nervous. I can't make it up a flight of stairs without getting completely out of breath; how on earth will I survive hours of labor? At this point I think I have a better chance of pushing my car up a hill with one hand. Pushing something the size of a watermelon out my yoo-hoo, which, for the record, is the size of a grape.... Ok, I actually don't know if that's accurate, but it's got to be close. Anyway, you get my point. The car would be easier.

We had an appointment Tuesday. Time for some fun! Pee in the cup, get weighed, measure the abdomen, have something scraped against my rectum, blood pres --- Wait, scrape WHERE?! Yeah, something else they never tell you about. But I survived.

Since I have this odd little habit of getting dizzy, seeing floaters, blacking out and vomitting all over myself, etc., the doc decided to hook me up to a monitor. They took V and I to this darkened room with the largest, comfiest chair ever in the middle of the room. After I kicked V out of the comfy chair and over to the hard, waiting-type one, I was strapped up. One monitor followed the baby, the other my uterus. V fell asleep right away, so he missed the twenty minutes of fun. (I told him he had to pack a bag for the hospital filled with things that would keep him awake, otherwise I might kill him if I see him sleeping while pain is ripping me in half. He agreed that he didn't really want to die, so he's going to throw some entertaining items together.)

The doc came back in and checked the read-out commenting, "Oh, you have some pretty regular contractions... can you feel them?" Uh, that would be a YES. For the past few days, in fact, that would be a yes. I explained I could work through them (I wanted her to think I was really strong and able, not weak and wimpy like some of those other pregnant moms-to-be). I did not tell her that the way I defined "work through" was grab onto whatever was closest to me and squeeze my eyes tight while praying I survived the next 45 seconds. (So far, God has answered my prayers and I've survived and I thank Him for that.)

I casually tossed out, "But those are just those Braxton-Hicks contractions, right?" (I wanted to impress V with my vast prego-medico terminology.) To which the doctor replied, "No. They're the real things, they just aren't doing anything to your body to progress labor." Contractions, say what?!

Let me get this straight... for the past couple days I've been experiencing "real" contractions that have done absolutely nothing for me. And this could continue for how long? "Well, until your body is ready." Like in two days? Or a month? Or two weeks after my due date -- which is six weeks, you know.... "It could be any of those scenarios, but I think you'll be right at your due date based on your past two pregnancies."

So, anyway, I hate my doctor now. I mean, any woman who can look another woman in the eye and say with a clear conscious, "You may experience contractions for the next thirty days" does not have my respect. I'm pretty black-and-white when it comes to things like this, and she is no longer my friend.


Popular posts from this blog

The House that God Built

in·stan·ta·ne·ous /ˌinstənˈtānēəs/ adjective 1. occurring or done in an instant or instantly.
synonyms: immediate, instant, on-the-spot

The thing is, she died so sudden.
I didn't have the chance to plead with God, to make all the irrational promises. If he would just let her be okay.... I would start taking better care of my health. I would be nicer to the neighbor that drove me crazy. I would always let someone else go in front of me at Walmart no matter how long the line was. I wouldn't complain. Ever. I would volunteer at the Homeless Shelter. I would clean up after pigs. I would clip the toenails of the elderly. I would do anything and everything He would ask me to do....
There is a box on her death certificate that captures the amount of time between the initial injury and the time of death. It reads "seconds." I wish it read "instantaneous" because she deserves a clever word like that.
Fast forward five years.... definitely taking MUCH longer than "…

Seeing Avery All Grown Up

One day I'll tell you about the freezing cold we left and the heavy bags we lugged, full of supplies and medicines. I'll tell you about arriving in Port au Prince and walking across a cracked concrete parking lot to board an old school bus with a flat tire. How the heat was suffocating after months of below zero Wisconsin winter weather, how the people crowded and walked too close to moving traffic as we searched for a tire shop that was barely more than a couple men sitting on overturned 5-gallon buckets on the side of the road next to a pile of old tires, everything covered in dirt.

I'll tell you about waiting on the bus while they removed the tire and I'll recall the loud explosion that rocked the bus and scared the life out of me and how I was relieved to learn it was just the tire blowing after being filled too far. (They didn't have any gauges.) And then I'll tell you about the fear I felt when I realized we didn't have a tire and we were stuck on th…

When Your Imagined Life is Nothing Like This One

There were so many ways I imagined my adult life would be....THIS is not one of them.
I posted that on my Facebook wall last night. It might have been seen as funny except my choice of hashtags gave me away:
treading water getting nowhere piles of disappointment not many successes worn out and exhausted out of options

I always imagined my life would be thrilling. Full of exciting adventures and people from all over the world. I would dine at Ethiopian, Thai, and Indian restaurants. I would write books, teach English, coach forensics and direct the play. My husband would be charming and funny and not care about gender roles when it came to household chores. He would beg for at least six kids and I would fall in love with him all over again each time I caught him giving good life advice.
I would take photographs and travel the world documenting the people I came across. I would adopt a sibling group of three or maybe four and work on foster care policies because the ones we have aren't work…