32 Weeks!

No change to symptoms and another 7 days of bed rest means this girl has reached another milestone, 32 weeks! Baby is holding tight and I’m just holding on. Tuesday of this coming week will mark 8 weeks of bed rest. That is 2 solid months of laying down. When I quantify the time in this manner, it seems almost unfathomable.

I commend those other mothers who have gone through longer periods of bed rest, it really begins to weigh on you at this point. All this time has taken its tole on me mentally and physically. Mentally, all the hormones that are surging through your system, seemingly compound the negative feelings. So, when you all get to do is lay there and sort through them with limited resources it can be a bit mentally taxing. It may be beneficial to get up and take a walk, enjoy the sunshine or got meet a friend for lunch to fight those negative feelings, but I can’t. So I do my best to push them off until the next wave of emotions rips a new feeling to the forefront of your mind and you do it all over again. With that being said, how I’m coping physically is a different story.

I have never felt so strong whilst growing so weak. As many of you know, I am not a new mom, but I am a first-time mom carrying a child. Being in this position I have really felt the impact my willpower has had on the success of these last 2 months. The willingness to continue bed rest, despite the urge/impulse/desire to do otherwise, has been empowering in my role for our second child.

Physically, my body doesn’t feel like anything I’ve known before. When I get up and stand for the 5-7 minutes to take a shower, my legs are shaking under the weight I have gained and feel deprived from the muscle tone I’ve lost. I usually get out of breath rolling over in bed to switch from aching hip to aching hip, and I have started to do the quintessential “pregnant lady waddle” as I walk from bathroom to bed and back again. Be that as it may, I know everyday that baby stays put gives him or her a greater chance to arrive in this world healthier, stronger and able to fight just that much harder. So, stay baby stay, and we will meet when it’s the right day. Happy 32 weeks!

Growing bigger!

All dressed up for my one outing every week.

Happy 18 months, J!

Lately, our blog has focused solely on Baby #2. But tonight, I wanted to give a shout out to our first born! Today marks Jamison’s 18 month birthday. A whole year and a half! And he really does get more fun every day. He’s so smart and funny and silly and sweet. He has his whole family just wrapped around his big bear paw fingers. He cracks us up constantly. He can sit alone quietly reading books or playing with Duplo blocks, and then switch to chasing the dog around the house with a potato masher. He thinks it’s funny when you say “peepee” or when you tickle him or when you put him in or near water. He has pretty sweet gangsta dance moves (if there is such a thing). He’s enthralled by animals, especially cows and horses. He wears size 2T and sometimes 3T clothes. He is still an awful napper. He is considered the best dressed kid at daycare. He will do just about anything for fruit snacks. He takes his bath standing up (like a true gentleman, Sarah says). He decides his bed time and it’s always way earlier than we would actually make him do (tonight he was sound asleep at 7 pm). He makes me want to both teach him everything as quick as possible and just cuddle him so he can be a baby forever. He makes me question how this second baby will have even half of enough love when I’m so head over heels for him. 

Happy 1.5 birthday, sweet boy!

   
       

The sting of 31 weeks

The great news about this week of my pregnancy is that I was discharged from the hospital on Monday, June 8th. However, discharged with caution, because I have begun to dilate. Only being between 1.5 and 2 cm dilated, thankfully. Being that we live about 2 miles from the hospital we were sent home with caveats, but still I’m now comfortably resting in my own bed.

I continue to do the same things I was doing in the hospital and we go and see the doctor once a week to check on the baby and update if there is a change to my symptoms. This week, we went to see the doctor on Thursday. Being stuck indoors for extended periods of time I get very excited to go on car rides ( side note: I’m beginning to see why our dogs like the car so much). So, Jess and I are off the to the doctor and on our way we devise a plan that involves as little walking for me as possible. Jess parked the car and went inside to grab a wheelchair to wheel me around. As she is opening the car door for me and I’m sitting down she yells, “wasp!” and I turn my head to look at her as lower myself down in the wheelchair and place my forearm on the wasp that wanted to hitch a ride with us too.  I shit you not, I’m outside less than 10 seconds and I got stung by as wasp. Only me, right?

Needless to say, a blood draw for lab work and two shots in the shoulder later in the appointment, the only thing that hurt is the freaking wasp sting that is puffy and red and itchy and stings…. still. Here are the pictures to prove it, of course we documented it.

The entry wound

Icing it to reduce the swelling

Other than the insect excitement, the appointment was good. Baby is measuring well and there are no changes to my symptoms so we were all happy for that. Another week down and another day closer to a stronger, healthier baby.

30 weeks

She did it! She made it to 30 weeks! When we were admitted to the hospital 3 weeks ago, the doctor told us we had a 50/50 shot of making it to 30 weeks. And honestly, that seemed pretty generous from where we were sitting. We were scared. We were looking at pictures of premie babies and sobbing because we just knew ours would be one of those impossibly small, 1-pounders who had more tubes and cords than skin square footage. But Sarah kept the baby in and baby keeps growing bigger, stronger, and more complete every day.

This week has been hard. Not that the other 5.5 of bed rest (the last 3 being in the hospital) weren’t hard. But we are hitting that point to where we are just over it. You can see it in both of our faces. We were scared and we were diligent and we were happy to lean on others. But now, this whole “in-limbo” thing is just old news. We’re done. We want Sarah to go home. And 30 weeks just so happens to be that magical time when we get to talk to the doctor about doing so. I can tell Sarah is beyond over this. She has been such a trooper, and still is, but in her eyes, she’s fighting to keep from going insane in here. Last weekend, she visibly hit a funk. When I asked her about it, she replied, “during the week, everybody goes to work and does their thing, and I’m doing my job in here. But when the weekend gets here, they get a day off and can go do fun things. I don’t ever get a day off.” It breaks my heart to hear her say this with such sad eyes and me not able to do a damn thing about it. So, she had a bad weekend. And then Tuesday, she got the news that she was getting a roommate. Though she was in a double occupancy room, we’ve heard they never ever double up. However, with all the construction and remodeling, they ran out of space, so another perinatal patient was put in Sarah’s room with her. This woman, pregnant with twins (her 5th and 6th kids) was definitely not someone you’d want to share a room with. She kept moaning and groaning, and at one point uttered the phrase “I shouldn’t have eaten so much chicken. I shouldn’t have had 8 pieces.” Eight pieces?!? What kind of pieces are we talking here? Nuggets? Tenders? Wings? Whole rotisserie? Then she politely asks if we mind if she watches tv. No, we don’t care at this point. So she turns it on TruTV and proceeds to cackle while people get hit in the balls and fall off their skateboards. It was just awful. It’s like having someone come into your room at home and just make themselves cozy. It’s your space, and it’s been violated by an unwelcome guest. I asked Sarah to please let me say something to the nurses, but she told me not to. She said if the woman, who was scheduled to be discharged the next day, was still there after the morning, then I could speak to them, but not until then. Then, she sent me home for the night so I wouldn’t have to sleep on the cot. I left, but I barely made it out the door before I started sobbing. Just the sheer crappiness of this whole situation. As Sarah said, it made a barely tolerable situation unbearable. And I had just left my wife in it. Plus, I was exhausted and when I am tired, tears tend to flow easier. Needless to say, the next morning, after roomie left the hospital, I spoke with the nurses and convinced them to give Sarah a private, albeit tiny, room all to herself.

So, we are very hopeful that Monday will bring good news. We are to have another ultrasound to check baby, fluid levels, and see what we can see of the cervix. They don’t want to do any checks or transvaginal ultrasounds so as not to further aggravate her cervix. We live very close to the hospital, promise to be extra super duper good, and will bribe our doctor with cookies if need be. We just want to go home.