Today was my follow-up ultrasound. My fluid was checked. Here are the three scenarios I was facing:
1. Fluid level increases a respectable amount. No more bedrest, but I’d get advice to not go crazy traipsing around the countryside with heavy laundry baskets and kids hanging off me. Still, I could resume a more normal life. Whatever that is.
2. Fluid stays the same or only rises a digit or two. Another week of piloting my bed.
3. Fluid drops a digit or more. Mr. Baby’s birthday has arrived.
The answer?
Bed ahoy! Is that an iceberg off the starboard bow, or everything I was planning to do last week and this week? Yes.
Fluid was up, but so unimpressively that the doctor said to stay on bedrest, do kick counts faithfully, and we’ll see you next week for another ultrasound.
One week is now going to be two weeks. I’ve experienced many things. Is that a list on the port side? As surely as there are crumbs on the poop deck.
1. I do not know how women deal with months of bedrest. I really, really don’t. You ladies are so strong.
2. The movies I’ve watched via Netflix streaming on the laptop: The Awful Truth, The Palm Beach Story, How to Marry a Millionaire, A Room with a View, Raising Arizona, The Prince and the Showgirl, Holiday, The Breakfast Club.
3. I have to drink a ton of water. I can only choke it down if it is loaded with crushed ice. I have outpaced our refrigerator’s ice maker several times, which ends up making me very depressed. My husband is going to buy a bag of ice from Sonic this afternoon. It’s the most romantic present, ever.
4. Reading I’ve managed: The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis. Stunning, quick read. I heard they are making a film version, which seems impossible. Will audiences sit through 2 hours of discussion on the nature of Heaven, Hell, self-pity, grief, fear, love, Love? Maybe if Snooki is in it. I also read the August Real Simple, plus nearly everything on the internet. Next up, I’m reading The Screwtape Letters. I want to read more, but I find myself being sucked in by things that aren’t challenging.
5. I’ve played innumerable games of Solitaire, both on my phone and on the laptop. I am quite good. My strategy has been refined.
6. My mom has been here for the past week and will stay for the upcoming week as well. She is such a saint. She’s done laundry, cleaned, cooked, looked after the kiddos with love and with care. She has to be tired. Yesterday, we sent her out of the house for a break. She agreed, taking herself to see Dinner for Schmucks. This strikes me as incredibly funny. She gives it a thumbs up.
7. Meanwhile, my dad is back in Grand Junction. My parents talk on the phone at least twice a day. I feel bad that they are apart and I hope my dad isn’t too lonely.
8. I’ve been treated kindly and pampered, too. A friend brought a gorgeous bunch of yellow freesias to brighten my bedside. My husband painted my toenails. My mom brings Dove chocolates and cookies she baked with the girls to me. The kids constantly shuttle ice water up the stairs.
9. I’ll do whatever it takes to take care of Mr. Baby. I want to keep him baking as long as possible, as safely as possible. That’s what keeps me going when I am feeling lonely and worried. I’ve had a lot of time to think, pray, contemplate. That hasn’t warded off meltdowns. I had a doozy on Friday night. I could not stop crying. Being in bed is not restful, really. When you don’t do anything all day, you aren’t really tired enough for deep sleep. It caught up with me in a huge, ugly, heaving sobs kind of way. I felt much better when it was over. The next time I feel a meltdown coming on, I am going to roll with it and get it out of the way.
Please continue to keep not only Mr. Baby and me in your prayers, but the whole family—especially my husband and my mom.
Bonus news: My brother-in-law and sister-in-law are expecting their first baby at any moment. Her water broke this morning. So we are anxiously awaiting happy news from southern California sometime today, we hope. They are aiming for a homebirth with a midwife, but she’s been warned if her contractions don’t start, it’s hospital time. They really don’t want to go that route, so if you are inclined, say a prayer that Amy in California’s contractions show up in a big way ASAP. I’ll post an update when their baby is here.
