So as I write this, we are sitting in our third room here at the hospital. It’s nice though… one of the birthing suites.

Yesterday, Dr. Perales decided to keep Angie on the magnesium a little longer to let her get one more night of sleep. Later in the night though, she wasn’t doing too well on it, so at midnight, she turned it off completely. Angie started feeling better, but this morning she had some real trouble with her breathing. Angie was coughing a lot and when she did she was getting mucus with some blood in it. Probably just from the amount of coughing she’s doing. The nurses called Dr. Perales though and she ordered a lot of tests. So we saw a pulmonary doc, a respiratory therapist, someone to draw blood for tests (out of a vein), someone else to draw blood out of an artery in her wrist, someone to take an x-ray of her chest, and finally the anesthesiologist. There was one part where in all the commotion, the nurse pulled a cord out of the wall, which we later found out was an emergency signal… a couple other nurses came storming in ready to do … well I guess do whatever they needed to do.

The respiratory therapist gave Angie some albuterol to help with her breathing. Then they gave her some lasiks (not sure if I’m spelling any of this right), and that seemed to help a lot. With the x-rays they confirmed that she had pulmonary edema brought on by the combination of drugs she was on for the contractions. But the new medicines seemed to help and by 11:00-ish she was feeling better, and breathing much nicer. The anesthesiologist was able to put in her epidural, which has been a HUGE blessing. It wasn’t so much that the pain of contractions was too bad, but really more that she still hasn’t gotten a lot of rest, and today seems like it may be the day. The epidural has allowed her to kind of cruise through these early contractions.

She’s about 4 centimeters now, and her uterus is about 80 – 90% thinned out (I think the technical term may be “effaced” but I’m not positive). Her contractions are coming at about every 3 minutes right now and everything seems to be on track. Dr. Perales came in and checked on her and ordered some calcium to be added to her drip because it’s one of those things where as the magnesium goes up, the calcium goes down.

The nurse seems to think we will be going about 4 or 5PM tonight, which would make today Tater’s birthday. Kylie has been extremely helpful and last night was looking for a list of things to do while she was at home to help prepare the house for Angie coming home. I know it’s tough on her because she has exams this week and she’s so worried that Angie is going to deliver while she’s at school. I sent her a text message today to tell her to call when she gets out today. Depending on where Angie is when she gets out, it may be a good idea to have her come here so she doesn’t miss it. Getting kind of exciting, with the birth coming soon. I haven’t really been able to give everyone a call who has either called or who I’ve been calling. I’ve been telling everyone to just call me if they want an update. That way if I can, I’ll answer, but if I can’t then they will either know we are busy, or I’m on the other phone.

When the baby comes, I think we are going to identify a list of people to call, and then ask them to “spread the word.” I’ll eventually get to update here, and have taken some pictures and video, so I’ll update that once I get back to the house and can offload them.

NOT LONG NOW!!! :)

So turns out that eight weeks became one. Sunday morning, Angie woke up for what has recently been an hourly bathroom visit. Unlike most times, I actually woke up too, but didn’t think much about it until she called my name. She noticed some blood in the toilet so we began double checking our books to confirm what we already knew… call the doctor. A few minutes later she went back to the bathroom and some more fluid (with less blood) came out. It was about that time that we got in touch with the on call doctor who said “head to the hospital.”

I’m not embarassed to say that 7 weeks out, we hadn’t finished all of our prep. We hadn’t packed a bag or chosen a pediatrician. We hadn’t mapped out a course to the hospital either though this proved not be an issue at 4AM. So we quickly threw together a bag and drove on in. We also didn’t think far enough ahead to grab something to eat before we left or on the way in.

We got to the hospital a little before 5:00AM and they took no time at all checking us in. I think I filled out all of 4 lines on the form before Angie was in a wheelchair and heading down the hall. We were assigned to room 323 initially. I have to say I was surprised by the size of the rooms… Don’t get me wrong… this isn’t the Ritz, but the rooms are nice and big. After some initial tests, it was confirmed that Angie had ruptured, and would not be going home without having a baby first.

The next couple days has kind of been a blur. Angie hasn’t been able to get out of bed and for the first 24 hours or so, she didn’t get anything to eat or drink. She was on an IV though, so she wasn’t dehydrating or anything. They attached her to monitors (one for her contractions, one for the baby’s heartbeat, and one for her heartbeat.) and started giving her antibiotics to fend off any infections. They took some blood too to check for infection (and I imagine everything else too).

Our doctor was out of town for the weekend, so the on call Doctor came in and she was great. Our doctor (Dr. Perales) actually delivered her baby, and they have a lot of the same views and approaches to birth. She started Angie on some medicine to stop the contractions. I originally thought that if your water broke you were going to give birth within 24 hours, but it seems that’s not always the case. We were told that technically, she could go for weeks with her water ruptured, as long as she doesn’t get an infection or lose too much fluid. The medicine didn’t stop them completely though and Angie wasn’t getting any sleep, so they decided to move to the “big guns” which is magnesium. I can’t tell you how many people made a point to tell Angie that magnesium was going to make her feel like crap. But she was already feeling like crap with the contraction and no sleep. So we did it.

The first couple hours on the magnesium weren’t bad. Angie was wondering what everyone was talking about. Bedtime came and we turned out the lights and tried to get some rest. I have to admit that I didn’t have any trouble sleeping. Even on the hard pull out chair that they give me, I was out. Angie on the other hand never got any deep sleep. The magnesium made her feel so bad that she could only close her eyes and rest. Add to that, someone coming in every hour to check on her, and she was even more tired in the morning. Don’t get me wrong, the nurses have all been absolutely fantastic. We have felt comfortable with every single one of them. But a hospital is just not the place to get rest.

So here we are. Monday morning…early and waiting on our doctor to come in and see us.

We’re down to the last 8 weeks (give or take a couple of weeks). I look forward to holding this tiny little bundle in my arms. I want to see what s/he looks like. I want to know what his or her little personality is going to be. I’m anxious. But at the same time, I have this inexplicable sadness. Things that use to bring me joy, now kind of irritate me. I think the worst thing that could happen to me right now is to be put on bed rest. I just don’t think I could handle that. Let me rephrase that. . . it would be really tough for me to handle. But right now, sometimes, I just want to cover my head with the blankets and have the world go away. Work is okay. I have new responsibilities (kind of stressful at this point but it makes the day go by faster), but that’s not my problem. It’s everything else. I’m tired of trying to be upbeat when I’m not. I vacillate between wanting people to do things for me and wanting people to just leave me alone (add to that the fact that I completely hate asking for help. . . not a good combination). And then, I wrestle with myself. I know that I’m just being hormonal and silly. I try to talk myself out of feeling a certain way, but it’s just not always possible. It’s one thing to know it. It’s another thing to believe it. Two more months. I will survive.
My ankles are getting worse. They actually get so large sometimes that they hurt now. Talk about timing though. I have an office now so once a day I shut my door, lie on the floor and put my feet up. I “drain” them for about 30 minutes. Of course, the relief doesn’t last long, but it does make them stop hurting for a little while. I’m also starting to have trouble with my hands (and wrists). My hands hurt the worst when I’m holding a phone (and they fall asleep at night). I have read that some women get carpel tunnel syndrome due to the swelling. That might stink. Nothing I can do about it but wait and see.
Now for some good news. I passed my glucose tolerance test! Woo hoo! The nurse told me not to overdo the sugar, but I passed. ;)
Matt and Lauren graduated from college on Saturday (both with honors). ;) They are such intelligent, young people with a bright future ahead of them. We are so happy for them and were very glad to be able to celebrate with them this weekend. However, going to the graduation on Saturday was a feat in itself. I spent a great portion of the morning trying to do a pedicure on my own feet. They were in desperate need of repair (especially since I will be wearing only flip flops for the duration of this pregnancy). After a lot of groaning, grunting and straining, I was able to make them more presentable. I even got one coat of paint on my toenails before Johnathan burst into the bedroom in a huff. We had to leave immediately! It took me another 5 minutes or so to gather everything I needed to finish getting dressed in the car (mind you, he wasn’t exactly ready to walk out the door either). And so began our saga. As we neared the graduation site, we hit traffic (go figure). Everyone was circling trying to find parking. And then it started to rain (God has a wonderful sense of humor). Neither of us knows the campus so when we exhausted our knowledge of parking areas, we just started following other cars. (My husband doesn’t stress about much, but I have to tell you that every once in a while, he takes on a whole different persona. . . this was one of those times.) The longer we drove, the worse the rain got. We finally found a parking spot about a half a mile away from the arena. Luckily, there was an umbrella in the car. Unluckily, I’m seven months pregnant. . . and it wasn’t raining straight down. We squeezed together as tight as we could. Remember those three-legged races you used to do as a kid? Imagine that with a grown man and an obviously pregnant woman holding an umbrella, in pouring down rain. . . for a half a mile. At least our hair stayed dry. Otherwise, we were soaked to the bone. The good news was that it wasn’t just us. Everyone that arrived when we did were in the same boat. We saw men in suits with their entire backsides drenched. We were walking as fast as we could, but we still caught ourselves slowing down when we had to cross a large puddle. . . habit, I guess. By the time we got close to the building, we were laughing. All you could do was find the humor in it at that point. I got off easier since I had flip flops on. Johnathan’s feet squished for the rest of the day. But we made it on time. We found Donna and Barry who were saving us seats. I, of course, had to go to the bathroom before getting too comfortable. As I was headed up the stairs, a man stopped me and said (through a smirk), “Is it raining outside?” I have never wanted to hit a stranger so hard in my life.

Well, folks, only 10 weeks to go. It’s happening so fast, but I’m pretty sure that these last couple of months are going to drag on and on.
We went to the doctor last Friday. Everything checked out fine. Tater’s little heart was just beating away. I mentioned that I was having a lot of Braxton Hicks contractions and expressed some concern over my bladder “issues”. I can be sitting there, minding my own business, everything just fine, and in an instant, I have to go. . . and I have to go NOW. And it really hurts to stand up. It makes me very happy that I have a way to the bathroom at work that doesn’t pass by any offices. I can walk, bent over, holding my bulging belly. What a sight. But I digress. . .
The nurse decided that we should do an exam just to make sure that everything was fine. Apparently, the baby is very, very low. As a matter of fact, “his” hip is resting on my bladder (well, at least we know our baby has a hip. . . that’s good, right?). But I have the problem of feeling like I need to use the bathroom constantly (no, I’m not exaggerating). My mind knows that there is absolutely nothing there, but my body just doesn’t get it. So now I have to ask, what happens when I go through “lightening”? (For those of you that don’t know, that is the point where the baby drops into the pelvis and really flattens your bladder.) I guess I could just work from the toilet. . . or maybe a catheter. . . hmmm. Of course, since I know that is a minor thing, and I need something “real” to worry about, I have chosen to worry about whether the baby will be able to turn or not. Right now, “he” is frank breech (which is how I was born. . . that explains why I’m an only child). I guess we’ll see.
Speaking of worrying, I took my glucose screening this week. That was fun. It’s like a pre-screening for gestational diabetes. After one hour of registration and waiting for a lab tech, I was finally called back. They made me drink this really sweet orange drink (I had heard horror stories but I love sugar so I actually kind of liked it). The problem was it was 50 grams (I was expecting a small shot glass or something), and it was really, really cold. I had heard that drinking it quickly was best (the lab tech confirmed that). So I started guzzling. I had to stop a couple of times to keep from getting a brain freeze. Then, the wait began. I had to sit there for an hour before the lab tech drew some blood. The good news is that I finally finished one of my pregnancy books. ;) The bad news is that I failed the test. Next week, I have to go for a glucose tolerance test. This one is more intense. I have to fast after midnight. They will take my blood when I first get there. Then, I will drink more of that stuff, except it will be more concentrated with sugar or a larger volume of the same. This time the wait will be 3 hours, with a needle stick at every 1 hour mark. Lindsey has offered to come keep me company. Or I could just finish more of my reading (I’m way behind).
I’m beating myself up over this one though. I knew that the test was supposed to happen between 24 and 28 weeks, but I didn’t “force” the issue. I thought I should call but decided not to. Now, we’re at 30 weeks and just finding out that there may be a problem (trying not to panic, only about 1/3 of women that fail the screening actually have gestational diabetes, so the probability is low). I’m just aggravated that I didn’t say something. I’m mad at myself because I should have been more responsible. Hopefully, we will hear something by the end of next week. I’ll keep you posted.
One positive thing that came out of the trip to the hospital this week was that I was able to pre-register. I paid and everything. Now, all we have to do on delivery day is show up and spit the baby out (it’s just that easy, right?). They gave me a code that functions as an approval. While we are in the hospital, if you can’t reach us (which is very likely while I’m screaming and writhing in pain), you can call the hospital and get an update. But you have to have the code. Of course, I’m not going to post that here. If you want it, just call us or email us, and we’ll give it you (provided that we know you and you’re not some random person that is reading our blog just for kicks).
One last thing and I’ll let you go (I need do this more often). . . I can really see my belly move now. It’s like my belly is on hydraulics. One side will bulge, while the other side will go flat. Then, this little knot will move across a couple of times. Very active baby. It’s extremely entertaining. I find myself sitting at my desk or in meetings just waiting for it to move (no, it’s not very productive, but it is a whole lot of fun).

We went to Bogalusa a couple of weeks ago (I know, I know, Johnathan told you and you saw the pictures. . . humor me. . . I’m pregnant). I hadn’t seen my dad in over a year. Plus I wanted him to get to see me all big and pregnant. On the way down, Kylie told me that I should have worn a snugger shirt to show off my belly. I said, “Oh, they’ll notice.” And of course, the first thing I heard when I got out of the car was, “SHE”S FAT!!” ;) I guess if my husband can call me “chubs”, I’ll have to let my dad call me “fat”.
We had a great visit. Kylie loved it (she got to drive a tractor. . . what girl wouldn’t love that?) And Johnathan got to use the gas powered plow (we’ll put up some pictures of that). They got to experience real south Louisiana. It was Kathy’s 50th birthday so Dad threw a party (but Kathy spent most of her time in the kitchen…how does that work?). We had crawfish, gumbo, crawfish pie, muffaletta, fried catfish, fried shrimp. . . tons of stuff. Johnathan had eaten crawfish before. But you’ve never really been to a crawfish boil until you have stood at a table covered with paper, twisting heads and pinching tails, until you just can’t eat anymore. And the table was an authentic crawfish boil table. It was a door lying across two saw horses. That’s livin’, folks. ;)
Then, there was the door-to-door-chicken-giver (dad should get a kick out of that). Apparently, in south Louisiana, when you hit a certain age, you earn the right to just stop at a person’s house if you see that they’re home (I’m not sure, but I think it’s somewhere just after retirement). There are at least two that stop by dad’s on a regular basis. Well, one morning, while we were having breakfast, one of them pulled into the driveway. Understanding the rules, Dad just waved him in (resistance is futile). After a little small talk, he said, “Hey, you want a couple of roosters? Now, these ain’t eatin’ roosters. These are just pet roosters. They’re waking my wife up too early in the mornin’ so she wants ‘em gone.” Dad and Kylie walked outside and, sure enough, he had two big ole roosters standing up in the front seat of the truck. Kylie got to pet one (of course), but Dad declined to keep them. They probably wouldn’t set well with the dog. So the man got back in his truck, after making one of the roosters get out of the driver’s seat, and went on to the next stop. The funniest part was, after he left, my grandmother said, “Yeah, I can imagine. His wife got up this morning and told him to squat and strain. . . so he did.” (okay, it’s much funnier coming from an 82 year old Baptist woman)
Last weekend, we allowed Kylie to go to the military ball for ROTC. She’s grounded. . . for grades. . . again (anybody know the trick to motivating a teenager…besides food?). But we figured that this was a special occasion, and we would hate for her to miss it only to be ungrounded a week later. She took her best friend as her date (yeah, we weren’t disappointed that she didn’t take a stinky boy, ha). They had a great time. Kylie was beautiful. She and I went shopping and she picked out a gorgeous blue dress. Then, we spent two hours on her hair. We put half of it up, and I sprayed, straightened and curled all her of her hair, piece by piece. She had these big ringlets all over her head. We have pictures of her that we need to put up. She cleans up nice for a girl that likes to dig holes and drive tractors. ;)