As you noticed from my post yesterday the day started off good! I wrote baby girl her first letter and posted a 24 week bump-pic before heading off to my final high-risk sonogram. The weather was great and although I was a little bummed to have to make the trip by myself it was hopefully the last time. Not quite.
When they checked my cervical length like they do every Monday it was down to just a little over 1cm. Once we get to zero, dilation starts. Obviously that is scary for a number of reasons, most concerning that I would dilate and the baby would be born early. I couldn’t go home and get anything or hug my little one.
I was sent straight from the hospital I was at to another hospital with a Level III NICU and immediately began a few treatments like a very uncomfortable shot in the butt of steroids to jump start baby’s lungs. The plan of action was to look again in the morning and decide whether it or not it was too risky to go in and sew my cervix closed. The big risk being breaking my water in the process.
I got an IV to start antibiotics and an anti-inflammatory (also acting to reduce some fluid around the baby to relieve pressure from my cervix) to prepare for surgery. Minimum stay in the hospital? Four weeks. Maximum? Whenever baby is born.
That was the technical details – now I’ll tell you about the emotional details. The part where I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe and no one could understand my phone conversations. How the nurse hugged me, handed me tissues and I mumbled out the sentence that I had a baby at home and I couldn’t be gone for a month. I just couldn’t. How I’ve cried and cried over the guilt I am feeling for not just going without seeing my son but going without parenting him. No baths, no playing outside, no getting him ready for bed or rocking him to sleep. The fact that I’m feeling really sorry for myself that I can’t just be living my life. I can walk nowhere besides to the bathroom. If I want a wheel chair ride to get some fresh air? The doctor must approve and write orders for it first. And that I’m sad for my husband. Not only is he separated from his wife like I am separated from husband but that is suddenly thrown into essentially being a single dad.
Everyone has told me and doctor’s have stressed to me that I am the only one that can do the job that needs to be done to keep our daughter safe. Lots of people can take care of my son well. I have a job to do and even though I’m not actively doing anything, I am taking the needles and shots and uncomfortable exams for her.
So here I sit, hanging out and trying to rest as best I can. I’ve been tweeting like crazy so follow me there for more updates. I have loved getting words of encouragement from everyone and they mean so, so much.
Liz is a just a mom trying to keep it real about how little she sleeps, how often she gets puked on and how much she loves them. You can find her here every day writing about real-mom moments.