AKA: How to super boost that stress level. You know. Cause, there was nothing really going on in my life.
I had my amnio on Monday and learned a couple of things. First. It’s a boy! All but one of the names we had picked out were girls names, so I guess we were asking for that one. Second. My gas bubbles where strangely synchronized (ala Wizard of Oz and Dark Side of the Moon) with the little monkey’s kicks. I had figured I was too early to feel as much activity as I was feeling. Nope. Apparently not. And not only that, the technitian said I was lucky because my placenta is in the front protecting me from the brunt of it.
This, combined with the fact that he was disco dancing the entire time she was trying to measure him – exactly like he was during the last ultrasound, makes me worry for the third trimester when I will be bruised from the outside from all the blood thinners, and the inside from my little gymnist. Oh boy.
Afterwards I came home and I ate my lunch and all days worth snacks that DaddyO had left me, and passed out on the couch in front of the tv. It’s what I do best! When I woke up, I figured I was safe to sneak downstairs and grab extra snacks.
Who can lounge on the couch in front of the TV all day without snacks?! And it had been 6 hours since my Amnio. I went slowly. Everything should be….. nope. Wet panties. Run to the bathroom and it’s all the way through my pajamas. Change pajamas and get back on the couch. Try to concentrate on Law and Order. Channel surf. On Demand Surf. Try to NOT thing about how badly I have to go to the bathroom and how badly I don’t want to get up and how badly I don’t want to feel any more wetness.
Full bladder makes my uterous contract.
Ok. We’ll go to the bathroom.
The rest of the day went about like that. I downplayed my fear about the leaking to DaddyO when he got home so we could consintrate on the stress of the move.
The next day I got up, and since I hadn’t leaked since the previous afternoon, I figured I was fine to sneak down to the kitchen, feed the dog, let him out. And… half way back up the stairs, leaking again. Just a bit this time, but still. More then one wants to.
Return to the camp on the couch with a box of cheezits. Read the discharge papers. 1 percent experience leakage. Awesome. Finally. I get to be in the 1% bracket.
About two seconds later the nurse calls to check up on me. Do I have any questions? Funny you should ask. She tells me I need to be on bedrest. Feet propered up? Working on laptop? Um, no. Flat on back. Pillows under legs. At least 24 hours. If you want, you can also lay on your side. (OOOooh! Exciting!) Prop yourself up for meals. Allowed to get up for bathroom. NOTHING else.
Awesome. Laying on back. Staring at ceiling. Listening to TV. Trapped in my own mind. Can’t pack. Need to pack. Can’t look at housing options. Really need a house. Wonder when the landlord is really going to want us out. Are we going ot end up homeless? Living out of my prius? Should I sell that couch or take it with us? I wonder what it’s going for on Craigslist. Too bad I can’t look it up. Is this the first sign of miscarrige?? Will it stop soon? What will happen if I can’t pack and we need to move? I wonder what Dr Google would say about all this?
WELL I WILL NEVER KNOW BECAUSE I CAN’T USE THE COMPUTER AND BY THE TIME I CAN I WILL HAVE LOST MY MIND FROM WORRY.
As of now, it’s been over 36 hours since I’ve leaked and I’ve been released from bedrest, and I don’t seem to have lost my mind. Yet. It’s early though. I may even shower and leave the house today. Slowly. With many pit stops.
I feel like since we got released from the IVF clinic, I’ve not worried about the baby. We’d passed all the milestones and met all the requirements and it had done all the things we had been told to expect. I had moved on to worry about other things. OK, there was always mild worry, but not the obsessive, laying awake at night worry. Now? I’m back to thinking about all the crazy things that can happen even when all those milestones are reached. I’ve been reminded that even if there is only a 1% chance of something happening, that if it’s something bad, it can indeed happen to me.
Another eye opener? I have out grown my fuzzy flannel pajama bottoms. The waist still fits, just not comfortably. I can either have them ride below my belly, and worry about catching my knee in the crotch when I walk. Not sexy. Sorta dangerous in a not sexy way. Or. I can pull them up over my belly and create the softest, fuzziest Hello Kitty camel toe ever. Even. Less. Sexy. And TOTALLY not comfortable.
As soon as I can leave the house I need to find more maternity pajamas.
Or, quit leaking amniotic fliud all over the ones that I have that fit.
Perferably both.
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