(This is largely a load of blather, but I promise there's a pretty amusing punchline at the end....)
Monday: Ültrasound in the morning showed all was well with the baby. Came home from a busy day, including a volunteer stint with Tommy's class. Had some bleeding. Not a ton but not the friendly "bloody show" one looks for. It was kind of bright red. Called my Midwife's office and was told to "watch it" and let them know if the bleeding continued or if contractions became regular. Bleeding stopped and no regular contractions. A full night's sleep...
The boys came barreling downstairs Tuesday morning to my bed and Elliott asked (in all seriousness), "Did you have the baby last night? Is he here??" Note to self: explain to Elliott that Mom and Baby won't be home the next morning if the baby comes in the night.
Tuesday evening: Busy day of messy domestic activities "sure to bring on labor" since abandoning mid-project would leave utter chaos in my wake. Made Tacos for dinner (yes, I hear you all suggesting Mexican food, believe me!) and began work on a little project for Tommy's class. Then... oh, more bleeding! Also bright red but also not a ton. Some contractions. Off to a church meeting where I (stupidly) declared, "I think I'll go home and have a baby." Got home and called the on-call Midwife (Erica... LOVE her!) and she is also "not in love with" my bright red bleeding but is not ready to panic. We decide I'll call her cell phone if more bleeding occurs or if contractions become regular. And I double check: ANY contractions or just intense ones? She says any flavor, if they are regular, buy me a trip to the hospital. She also says she'll be in her office tomorrow if I want to get checked. Go to bed for what I guess will be a couple of hours rest before we head out. Sleep all night.
The boys come barreling downstairs Wednesday morning to my bed and are SO UPSET that I am still around. Nothing like getting greeted at 6AM with "Ooooohhh, man! You're STILL here???"
Wednesday (Yesterday): Midwife Mary (my usual midwife) is not in the office Thursdays so I made an appointment with Erica. Scott wanted to come with me (and I wanted him to come) but things are nuts at school right now and he needs to be there. He will, however, buzz up to Elliott's school and pick him up so that I don't have to go to the appointment alone. Gungah and I go to the office (after getting a little bit lost... as I have never been there) and the baby sounds great. My vitals are great. She concludes that it was probably bloody show after all. Also, I'm between 1 - 2 cm dilated. Well, that's something, at least. Though, as my sister Heather said, "My last baby was 8 years ago and I'M 1 - 2 cm dilated!" Yeah, I know.....
We snag Elliott from Scott's school and head home for lunch. I gather energy for normal household tasks (laundry, dishes, etc.) and then hit the mother of all projects: the play room. I KNOW that if I attempt to tackle that Universe of Untameable Horror there's no way my uterus will let me down. Leaving it unfinished would be the cruelest form of punishment for all involved: Gungah would not even be able to begin to decipher my "organization", the boys would be without a place to play without worrying about pesky rules like "no throwing things in the house" and whatnot, and I would have to face my own disaster after returning home with a teeny baby.
The good news is, the play room is all neat and organized now.
The bad news is, no baby.
That evening, we had an early dinner in town. I began having some regular Braxton Hicks as soon as I sat down but didn't say anything. After 5 or 7 or so of them I asked Scott and Gungah to tell me what time it was when I had them. They were not intense but they were regular. Like 2 - 3 minutes apart regular. And they were regular for over an hour. I had a little bit more discharge (blech! hate that word!) and decided to call the OB on call when we got home.
When the doctor called back (yeah, not a midwife... oh well!) he noted that we live an hour away and that this is baby #3 and... The connection on the phone was not great but I managed to decipher that he wanted us to take a ride over to the hospital just in case things moved along swiftly.We kissed the boys goodbye and were on our way. As we drove over I noticed the contractions were less regular but definitely still happening. When we arrived at the hospital and I got out, they picked up again quite nicely.
The hospital has had a make over since Elliott was born so we were a comical sight trying to figure out where to go.... (it being 7:45PM there were no staff around to point the way...) But we did manage to track down the Family Birth Place. The lovely nurses let me go pee (aaahhhh!) and then hooked me up to the monitor to check on my contractions, the baby's movement and his heart rate....
There was plenty of action with contractions but still nothing that truly hurt. The baby's movement and heart rate were moving along in conjunction with the contractions in such a way that the nurse was very happy.
Enter: Dr. Talks Too Low.
Now, this guy was very nice. I think. And very professional. I think. And very everthing-else-you-want-in-your OB. I think. But. He.talked.so.damn.quietly! (So, uhh, that wasn't a bad phone connection before!) If you don't know me personally you might not know that I tend to be a little bit, ummm, outgoing. Likewise, Scott is ummmm, not exactly introverted. If you went through the list of all the Doctors in all the world I don't think you could find one more opposite-r !
Now, don't get me wrong. I would rather not have a wisecracking medical professional.... at least not one who was cracking-said-wise while I was trying to figure out if I was going to be passing 7 pounds of slimy flesh through my lady parts.... but this guy was about a minus 2 million on the low key scale! He was personable, for sure, in that we had (I THINK!) a conversation about running. And (I THINK!) his son has run the Burlington Marathon a few times. And (I THINK!) he started a Jogger's Anonymous organization, which (I THINK!) was when he and his buddies would feel like taking a run but would go out for beers instead.
Okay, so, he checked my progress and said I was between 2 - 3cm but my cervix had "barely" thinned. He was doubtful (I THINK) that I would be staying the night but said we should take a walk for an hour and see if we could get things moving.
So, Scott and I walked around the hospital. (Totally Dullsville after hours, by the way). The nurses we saw along the way looked at me doubtfully and seemed to be thinking "She's way too happy to be in labor". They were right, of course.
Awhile later I went back on the monitor. Contractions still there but no progress on the dilation front = pack 'em up and head home.
I asked Dr. Talks Too Low for clarification on when we should return. Now, I can't be sure (the closed captioning was still turned off on this guy!) but I am pretty sure the conversation went like this:
Me: "So, if I'm not looking for regular mild contractions, what exactly AM I looking for to head over here again?"
Dr. Talks Too Low: "You shouldn't come back until you can't talk."
I laughed, too.
I know what he meant: I shouldn't come back until I can't talk through my contractions. But it was SOO damn funny that he said that to me, the Chatter Bug Ying to his Silent Sam Yang.
So, I'm going to spend the day today finding ways to make myself speechless. Wish me luck! Better yet, tell me somethin' that'll make me shut my mouth!