Monday, November 2, 2009

34 Weeks -The End, The Beginning

The time has come the walrus said, to talk of many things - Lewis Carroll

Like, my babies are coming out tomorrow! How strange this feeling is that I know their birth date already. I realize women have scheduled c-sections all the time, I'm just not one of those women. So think of me at 11:30 am. I'll have a funny bonnet on my head. I'll be trying my darndest to keep my loving husband from passing out beside me. A nurse has already pleaded with him to keep it together, I guess there is a whole lot of paperwork involved if he hits the floor. I'll also be anxiously listening for the first cries of my babes as they are pulled from my belly. My belly might be great and bulbous now, but by lunch time tomorrow it will be a deflated balloon. Very, very strange.

I can't wait to take full, deep breaths again with ease and little thought. I can't wait to sleep on my back. I look forward to one day soon sleeping on my tummy, once the boobs have adjusted to their nursing responsibilities that is. I look forward to snuggling up close behind my husband in bed. I look forward to Hugo sitting upon my lap once more, and not clinging desperately to my arms for fear of falling off. I even look forward to washing the dishes with my torso not forced to swing to the extreme left or right as I lean into the sink. I can't wait to apply my mascara in front of the mirror and actually be able to see my lashes. Think I'm crazy? You try it. Stand back a full foot from your bathroom basin and try to apply your mascara. Come on, do it! Laugh along with me!

I realize I haven't explained what all happened with the PUBS test that was performed last Tuesday. The day was crazy and hectic. The verdict for the quick c-section was on, then off, then on, then off again. It was emotional and confusing. The docs still find our girls to be quite the puzzle. In the end, they determined that they could and should stay within the womb for one more week. 34 weeks gestation is supposed to hold some important mile markers for the babes. So, we called nearly everyone we knew and said, "The girls are coming out!". Then we had to call nearly everyone we know and say, "All is off. One more week to go. Scheduled section for Tuesday November 3rd." The girls and I were monitored for stress and contractions for a few hours and then I dressed and we drove home.

Around 9:30 PM, Baby B was being completely naughty and was pushing her entire backside out the right side of my abdomen. It hurt. I told her to knock it off. She didn't listen. Baby A is so good and nice to me.

10:30 PM, Cesar and I hit the sheets. It had been a long day and he needed to leave for work early, early in the morning. Baby B took no pity on me. I'd sleep and then she'd wake me doing her strange stretching routine. Back to sleep I went. Sometimes, I got up and tinkled hoping she'd change position. About 12:30 AM Baby B was up to her tricks again while I was still in the midst of dream world. So I was experiencing this pain in my belly and suddenly in the midst of my dream my sister Millie appears and she looks straight at me and says, "Wake up ya big dummy, those are contractions!" My eyes opened immediately! and I knew she was right. Baby B was not being a naughty girl, I had simply been contracting since 9:30 that night. Uh oh. I grabbed my phone and walked into the nursery where I could turn on the light and not disturb Cesar's sleep. I dialed up Millie to tell her about how silly I am and how she had come to me in my dream as only a sister can. Her husband Trent (he's a doc) told me that I should write down the time of the contractions and if they increased to 10 minutes apart that I should call my doc. I live an hour from the hospital...

Long story short, I called my baby doc around 4ish. We barely made it to the hospital in one piece. My husband kept his cool on the highway. Once in the City, all bets were off. Nary a red light would hold him back. We skidded around corners. We got stuck behind a super slow car at one point and C majorly passed him up. We totally caught air with the van at one point, which was killer for the bulbous tummy by the way. That slowed him down a bit. Shocked him enough to drive somewhat sane. My contractions were coming 3-5 minutes apart at this point. I was breathing pretty heavy. So was Cesar.

He drove up in front of the hospital main doors and ordered me inside. The place was deserted. He found a wheel chair and ordered me to sit in it. I tried to protest. I said the walking would be good for me. I was again ordered to sit. Me takey no prisoners woman! I sat. Cesar began to run. As the corners quickly approached I braced myself for impact. I thought we'd either slam into someone around the corner or completely wipe out. I wasn't sure which would be worse. I tried to play out different scenes in my head. We didn't wipe out though. Expert emergency wheelchair operator my stressed out husband is I discovered. He wheeled me into the elevator, all stressed out as he was he couldn't remember the right floor number. I smiled. He wheeled me to the check-in counter, they have a special place for us wheelchair forced women to sign consents and receive our bracelets. Cesar wanted a bracelet. He was told he'd have to wait until it was determined if I were in true labor or not. His lip stuck out a bit. He wheeled me through the big security doors and down the hallways to my assigned room. As we passed the nurses station he joked, "Got the hot water ready?!" He was met with blank, blank stares. I sunk a bit down into my wheelchair seat. In our room I asked quietly for no more jokes as the nurse prepared the bed for me. My husband pulled up the chair/bed and passed out in mere seconds. He'd completed his duty. We were safely in a room in the hospital. The nurses and docs marveled at his ability to, and the deepness of, his sleep. I just smiled.

1 comment:

Lizzie Bingham said...

I'll be glues to the phone tomorrow! It'll be great! No worries!