It’s the Little Things!

Today marks over a week of being in the hospital, and it has come with some hopeful news:

—My red bleeding/spotting has pretty much diminished into old brown/black spotting. For me, this is a normal sign that my body *should be* done bleeding...at least for now. All of that means that there is a hope, a chance that I may be out of here on Sunday, unless something else concerning pops up before then. Which it totally could, so I’m not getting my hopes up too much—I’d already resigned myself to the fact that I could be here for a very long time, so mentally I am at least somewhat prepared for whatever happens.

The doctor we spoke to today (we see a different one every day, but more on that later) was awesome and she said it was good that I’ve been quiet and if I continue to be nice and quiet they will be more inclined to send me home. I didn’t tell her this, but quiet is generally how I prefer to live my life, so challenge accepted!

—They took my IV port out and said they would only put another one in if they needed to (i.e. if I have more heavy bleeding). I can’t even express how excited I was to wash a week’s worth of sticky residue off my hand and put all of the lotion in the world on it. I’m still getting used to having full use of it. It’s glorious.

—I have been granted wheelchair privileges so my husband can take me out of this room and into the sunshine and fresh air for an hour. The prospect of Vitamin D on my face is so exciting, especially since it is so hot out that the adventure will certainly require ice cream for cooling purposes. 

Otherwise, I’m getting used to the flow and rhythm of being in the hospital. Thankfully, I am mostly here for monitoring and rarely require much special attention. I don’t take that for granted, and I sometimes feel bad bugging the nurses for more water or another pillow, because I know they have patients with bigger, more urgent needs. But also, I need to hydrate to keep me and baby healthy so, I get over it. 

Some of the things I do to pass the time:

—pray and journal

—watch whatever terrible movies are on cable

—watch movies on my iPad

—play Spider Solitaire

—try (and usually fail) to nap

—pace slowly around the room and gently stretch to work out some of my sore muscles

—waste time on Instagram

—color in a coloring book that a friend kindly brought me.

I wish that I could do more writing or work on something more productive, but my brain is fried. 

Three times a day they do monitoring for the baby’s heart rate and any contractions I may have (I have been having more Braxton Hicks which don’t usually register and are really annoying, but occasionally I’ll have a couple legitimate ones). These are usually the highlights of my day because I get to listen to my son’s heartbeat and hear his big kicks and movements and sometimes his hiccups! They check my vitals several times a day, and we see a doctor once a day.

We have an odd doctor situation, since my OB only has privileges to practice at a hospital twenty minutes away from this one. The hospital we are at has a NICU that is equipped for babies born before 32 weeks, whereas my OB’s hospital can only care for babies born after 32 weeks, so long as they are at least a certain size. That makes it a little confusing and frustrating for everyone, since we just see whatever doctor is available from my OB’s affiliated group.

For the most part, they have all been good, some have been really great, and there was one (who is not affiliated with our OB’s group, but occasionally covers for them if they get caught up in an emergency) who made us extremely uncomfortable. We only spent about 5 minutes with him and knew we did not want to ever see him again, let alone allow him to treat me or our child. We finally told a nurse about our concerns and it was clear from her reaction that we are not the first ones to feel that way. Which upsets me, because women’s healthcare in this country is already extremely lacking and for someone like this to still be practicing after 40+ years is like pouring lemon juice in that paper cut.

So anyway, getting clear answers has sometimes been a challenge. My OB came by yesterday just to check on me, and that meant so much. We discussed the possibility of me transferring to her hospital next week (if I’m still hospitalized), and she said that was definitely possible, but she would want to see our next ultrasound (which will be on Tuesday) to see how things are looking and if our baby is also big enough to receive the care he might need in the NICU if he came too early. Even though the hospital we are at is fine and even closer to home, we would feel more comfortable having our own doctor and medical team around. We chose my OB because we really really like her. She’s also my husband’s primary care doctor, and she’ll be our son’s pediatrician, so if it’s possible, it will be worth the transfer just to be close to someone we know and trust.

The worst part of every day has been the discomfort from sitting in a lumpy hospital bed all day (and my poor husband sleeping on the lumpy couch) and the constant uncertainty. Like I mentioned earlier, I am mentally preparing myself for the possibility of being in a hospital for the next 6 weeks if necessary. I’m not crazy about the idea, but we are willing to do whatever we have to do to make sure our son is his healthiest and safest whenever the time comes for him to enter the world.

I am so thankful that my husband has been able to be with me this whole time. He usually leaves for a few hours a day to shower and check in at home and at work. Work has been extremely understanding of our situation, for which we are extremely grateful! But we had the hard discussion that if this drags on past this week, he’s going to have to go back to work, which will mean he’ll also need to be getting a good night’s sleep, which will be easier to do at home in a real bed. Unfortunately, due to the Covid cases rising again in our state, patients are only allowed one visitor per day, so I can’t have anyone come hang out with me during the day and then have him hang out with me in the evening. We agreed though, that for both of our mental health’s sake while we eagerly and anxiously anticipate the arrival of our son, we would rather be able to see each other even for a little bit every day than not at all. 

And who knows, maybe I will get to go home on Sunday until it’s time for our son to be born, and none of that will be an issue. At least for right now, I have some hope about that. And if nothing else, today we might get some ice cream in the fresh air and sunshine. It’s the little things!