Enough Is Enough

This is not going to be a very cheery post…just to give you some fair warning. I’ve tried to hold off on writing, waiting for my dreary mood to lift.  But, if I wait for that to happen, I may not get to write for a LONG time.

To start the post on a high note, the baby is doing great.  Our little Thanksgiving turkey is still cookin’, and he still seems oblivious to what is going on with me.  He has frequent bouts of hiccups, but other than that, he is exactly the same as he was before all of this started. 

Another happy thought is that I have been having visitors and that is, I think, what has kept me going.  People have sent flowers, sat with me while I cried, and one friend even brought me a book of inspirational quotes about joy…to read when things get really rough.  I know I’ve said it before, but my friends are amazing and I only hope I get to return their support when all of this has passed. 

I’ve tried to find activities for myself, things I would enjoy doing or which are similar to the things I would be doing if I wasn’t stuck in the hospital on bed rest.  But the truth is, it is only the anticipation of visits from friends, showers, time in the whirlpool bath, and clean sheets that keep me going.  Everything else seems forced.  I broke down and took a narcotic pain medication last night, as my blood pressure had spiked from the pain of the contractions and they couldn’t’ get it down.  Even Percocet didn’t ease my nasty mood (or the pain).

I don’t think I will have a roommate for much longer.  She had an amniocentesis this morning because they found pockets of excess fluid around the baby a couple of days ago.  It turns out, she miscalculated her due date.  She is only 34 weeks along and the baby’s lungs aren’t even close to mature.  The doctor came in to explain to her that she needs to stay in the hospital until the lungs mature, as the baby would likely die if she had it anywhere but at this hospital.  Because she already has a tear in her placenta/placental abruption, and a low blood count, there is even a chance she won’t make it through a delivery.  She told the doctor to shove it up her ass…she’s leaving.  She’s packed up her stuff, all the while complaining to me about how stupid the doctors are and how she needs to go home where she can do what she needs to do.  I’m not sure what she “needs to do,” but if her activities in the hospital are any indication, that baby is in real trouble.  The woman who cleans our room has found two empty vodka bottles in our room (in case I need to say it…they aren’t mine).  The roomie told the nurse who was lecturing her about the dangers of smoking during pregnancy yesterday that they should be happy she has cut down to 14 cigarettes a day, as she was smoking twice that much when she came in.  It just breaks my heart.  I HATE being here right now, but wild horses couldn’t drag me an hour or two away from this hospital (that’s how far away this woman lives).  This is where my baby needs to be when he decides to come see us.  How can the roomie not get that?  How can she take something so precious for granted?  It’s hard to watch.

On another topic (because if I focus on that one anymore, I’m not going to make it through this post), I am officially leaking milk.  Gross.  I know.  I had been leaking milk a little before, but now I get big wet spots on my shirt during the day and I actually squirt milk if I lean against my breast at all.  My breasts are enormous!  They don’t fit into a 3x sports bra, and I’m not sure where I can really go from there.  For right now, the ladies are just having to squeeze into what I’ve got.  Not wearing a bra is no longer an option. The hospital gave me nursing pads.  They remind me a lot of circular maxi pads.  NOT COMFORTABLE against my nipples.  But my boss is coming to see me today, to do my biannual evaluation and to take my work laptop away (I’m out on leave now, as we can’t get my work laptop to work at the hospital), and I don’t want to take any chances of having an awkward moment while he’s here.  It is really odd to see my breast actually produce milk.  I mean, I knew it was coming and I know it is natural.  But it still seems strange.  There is part of me that wants to smile about it, as it makes the fact that I am going to be a mommy even more real.  But there is a part of me that freaks out about it a little bit, like I am losing part of my identity as a woman outside of motherhood.  I’m sure that makes no sense, but it is how I feel…sometimes. 

My body feels like it is not my own…like it is betraying me again.  My cervix is still at 5 cm and seems happy to stay there.  My uterus has apparently not gotten the memo from my cervix, and it won’t stop contracting.  Day after day after day…it just wears me down.  Today, the doctor (one of Dr. C’s partners) told me that every day I am not having this baby is a miracle, and I should celebrate it as such.  She said she knows it is hard for me, but no one expected me to make it this long and now everyone is excited to see how long I can hold out.  I needed to hear that.  I needed to hear things put in those terms…like people are proud of me and what I am doing is a major accomplishment.  Too often people say to me “You’re doing good.  This is good for the baby.”  That’s a nice thing to say, but it isn’t the same as telling me that what I’m doing is amazing and special.  I know it is super selfish, but that’s what I need right now.  To be told that what I am doing is superhuman…even if it isn’t.  I’ll keep taking care of the baby, doing everything I can to keep him safe inside of me.  But I need someone to take care of me.  I feel like I’m getting lost in all of this.  I know…welcome to motherhood.  I just have to believe these feelings would be a little easier to bear if I was holding my baby in my arms, instead of waiting for him to arrive.  We’ll find out I guess…though hopefully not too soon.  

On another high note, today’s doctor (the one who gave the great inspirational speech) has given me permission to take a wheelchair ride.  If the weather warms up a little, and my husband comes to visit when I am not having contractions and everything is stable, he can wheel me outside the front door of the hospital, so I can get a little fresh air before the bad weather sets in.  The Prince didn’t seem thrilled about that prospect when I told him over the phone this a.m.  He is really bored with the whole hospital visit thing.  He even volunteered to work at his parents’ restaurant on Thanksgiving, and told me he didn’t think he would get a chance to come see me after he was done.  How can he not understand how devastating it is to me that he would think it is okay to leave me alone on Thanksgiving?  I think his Mom is putting a stop to his plans…and will make him bring me some real food from the restaurant for dinner.  But I hate that he has to be forced to do that.  It is hard for me to feel like he sees spending time with me as such a burden.  I get it…I just wish he could empathize with how hard this is for me.  I felt like he really got it last week.  He was sweet and here as much as he could be, rubbing my shoulders and back during contractions.  Now, I have to force him to give me a hug and peck on the cheek when he leaves.  If I had to guess, I would think that this may be some kind of whacky male coping mechanism.  Maybe the stress is wearing him down too, and his way of dealing with the helpless feeling is to avoid being around the situation.  Oh well.  It sucks, but he’s wheeling me outside whether he wants to our not.  I’ve got a serious case of cabin fever and I literally cried when the doctor said I could go outside.  Small victories.

Well, it is almost lunch time (the food might be part of what is wearing me down too…it doesn’t get any better).  So, I better go.  I’ll try to suck it up and write more often.  Not writing my thoughts down isn’t helping.  I just hate to be Debbie Downer all of the time.  I think it gives people a skewed idea of who I am.  Hopefully tomorrow will be better.