Two weeks ago, I wrote about optimism when things don’t go our way. Well, this week, I could have used some of that optimism. I think the honeymoon period of living in a hospital is over.
So, I’ve been at the hospital for a little over 3 weeks, on bed rest. It’s been two weeks since Jeremy returned to work, so I spend most days alone on my fancy multi-adjustable hospital bed, with 7 pillows, a laptop and the TV remote.
In the beginning, I thought I was at the Ritz hotel. Nurses remind me of when I should take my pills, I get to hear my baby’s heart beat twice a day, my contractions are being monitored regularly, there’s daily house-keeping and an array of food choices at the push of a button – just like room service, except, it’s free and no tipping.
Then, I found out a week ago that I had Gestational Diabetes (GD) – a common but temporary symptom for 16% of pregnant women during the third trimester (28 weeks until delivery). Which means I’m on food restrictions.
The nurse of the day happily walked in and handed me a new menu – it says “Diabetes Diet Menu“. Because I don’t eat meat or eggs, my choices became further limited.
What do you do when things do not go your way? While being upset seems like the most natural reaction, sometimes, you just have to let it go, accept it for what it is, do the best you can and find the gift within.
A week ago today, Jeremy and I were traveling back from a trip to Mexico – a little tropical getaway as a couple before baby Ryan is born.
During the first flight back, I experienced sharp lower abdominal cramps. After 16 hours of traveling, 4 hours of bad sleep upon returning home, and stubbornly resisting Jeremy’s persistence to go to the hospital, that is exactly where I ended up.
Turns out, I had been in preterm labor for the past 17 hours. Being a first time mother, I didn’t know what a contraction actually felt like. What I thought was simply cramps from gas and baby movement turned out to be contractions.
When the doctor checked me at 5am that eventful Monday morning, I was dilated to 2cm, contracting every 4 minutes and my cervix had thinned to 50%. My body was getting ready to deliver a baby. At the time, I was 28 weeks pregnant.
Having only found out about my pregnancy 8 weeks earlier, the thought of possibly delivering a premature baby that day was surprising and terrifying. Thus began a frightful and confusing journey over the next 48 hours.
The following is a tale of what happened in my corner of the world during those few days, and what I’ve learned.