My Private Struggle...Only Without The "Private"

First, I want to say thank you so much to everyone who has commented with kind words and support over the last few days.  When I think about how amazing my friends and family have been, and how much energy people have devoted to thinking about us and sending us their thoughts and prayers, I get overwhelmed and start to cry.  I am not a Positive Polly (as those of you who follow my blog well know), and I often have less faith in humanity than I would like.  It is only at times like these, when I am facing something that I feel too weak to handle on my own, that I am reminded that I'm not on my own because there are truly good, kind people all over the world who actually care about others.  I know this all sounds very "Polly-Anna'ish," but it is how I feel and I want to express it (before I move on to my complaining...that sounds more like me).

Yesterday was a rough day.  I had a rough time dealing emotionally with what is going on.  I thought I would have been in a better place in my head by now, as usually I just need an initial adjustment period before my inner strength kicks in.  Not so much with this.  When I try to talk to the baby, I start crying and get so choked up I can't do it.  I can't even describe why it happens....it just does.  When there is a small setback (like waiting for the nurses to answer my call button, or another doctor saying "Who knows what is going to happen over the next few days?"), I get frustrated and sometimes cry.  If they make me wait to eat (because the tray comes to my room but I have to wait for the nurse to give me my insulin before I start eating), I start to cry in frustration.  I think this situation just makes me feel very helpless, and setbacks...even tiny ridiculous ones...remind me that I am at the mercy of others and fate.  I'm not taking that well.

Last evening, The Prince came to visit me at about 3:30, between his day job and evening class.  He joked that we were entering a three hours period when I could not have the baby...as he could not cancel his evening class.  I joked in reply that I would put 50 to 1 odds on me not having the baby during those three hours.  On cue, the baby pushed down in my pelvis and a wave of contractions started.  The Prince had to leave for his class anyways, so I ended up going through a couple of hours of the strongest contractions I've had yet, at one to two minutes apart with little rest between peaks.  It wasn't fun. It was scary.  The baby kept dancing around in there during the contractions (not so helpful with the pain, but reassuring) and luckily, my water didn't break.  It took two injections and a pill to slow down the contractions.  I'm still only 5 c.m. dilated, but the membranes are bulging even more...which means more restricted activity (as if that is even possible).  I am still having contractions every ten to fifteen minutes, but the doctor who checked on me last night thinks that is going to be the norm until the baby comes.  I have to keep taking an oral medication to try to keep the contractions at bay (it makes me shake like an addict and causes tachycardia...but both are preferable to having the baby right now).  Once the water breaks, we will have to let the labor move forward and it will probably move quickly.  But until then, I just have to tough out the contractions and we will watch to make sure the baby isn't reacting to them.  If he does, they may need to move forward with labor.  If he continues with his strong heart rate and movement (even the nurses say he's an INCREDIBLY active baby), we will just wait.

After the contractions slowed last night, I had to wait a couple more hours before I could eat.  So, my already gross hospital food was three and a half hours old by the time I could eat it.  And, as I was trying to figure out how to nicely explain to the nurse that I could not eat hours old powdered mashed potatoes and solidified gravy, she informed me that I was being moved to a different room - one with a roommate.  I lost it.  I had another meltdown and pouted while I threw my things into my bags for transfer to another room (apparently, I am not allowed to stand up for a shower but I am allowed to stand up and carry my own bags to make room for another patient).  I called my husband, interrupting the end of his lecture, and begged him to come take me home.  I told him about the food and the room change and the contractions and just sobbed.  I demanded to speak to the doctor and told her it was stupid I wasn't able to go home when we only live 15 minutes away and it takes the nurses that long to respond to my call button.  I'm terribly embarrassed about how I behaved (now), but I had zero control over myself last night.  I was on a rampage.

When I got to my new room, my new roommate had 10 family members in the room.  She has placenta previa and was admitted at 30 weeks with hemorrhaging.  She's at 32 weeks now and is shooting for a c-section at 34 weeks.  She is allowed to walk around the hospital and wear her own clothes, etc.  She just can't go home because she lives far from the hospital and she could bleed to death during the hour drive.  Her family is from Kentucky, so they sleep here (only her mother sleeps in the room...the rest sleep in the waiting room), and they are here all the time.  She was complaining about it last night.  I've been not having visitors because I felt like I needed to hunker down and push through what I am going through on my own (and with The Prince).  Now...that isn't really an option.  I have her visitors whether I want them or not.  Plus, having the roommates stuff everywhere in the room is making it even harder for me to accept that I can't be at home.  This doesn't feel like my room...it feels like I am staying in hers.  I don't feel like asking her to change anything, even though she probably would if I asked.  I just feel like whining.  I feel like everything I have tried to have even the tiniest amount of control over (I had just asked The Prince to bring me a few things from home, yesterday, so I could "decorate" the room to make myself more comfortable), has been pulled away from me.  It's not a pleasant feeling.

Today, I am going to just focus on not focusing on all of this negativity.  I am going to try to work from bed, to keep my mind off of the contractions and what is going on around me.  I am going to try to not analyze the contractions or pains I feel, and to just take them for what they are...ultimately temporary.  I am going to remind myself that when I am holding our baby a year from now, I won't even remember how awful I felt in the hospital.  None of it will matter.  I'm going to focus on the small pleasures...like the steak dinner that The Prince brought me last night to make me feel better about not being able to eat old powdered mashed potatoes (have I mentioned how awesome he is?)...that make this experience more bearable.  I'm not up to shooting for gratitude yet today... but I'm taking baby steps in that direction.