just when...

Just when I thought we were done with throw up, I was wrong. I went to get Logan up this morning from her crib, surprised with a rather large mess. Apparently, she had thrown up (looks like twice) in her crib during the night. It concerns me that, 1- she didn't wake up, 2-she threw up in her sleep. Took her back to the doctor (upon their request) and they said suggested again, that is was still her little body trying to fight this virus. She has lost a little over a pound in a week, and she really doesn't have the weight to lose. They told me to continue feeding her, and hopefully some would stay down. She puked again tonight. I am over this. Every way I turn, it seems wrong. If I feed her, she pukes. If I don't, she's starving, and still pukes. Also told me to srart feeding her higher calorie foods, to help her maintain/gain weight. She will think she is in Hog Heaven - poor thing is used to organic, whole wheat, unflavored, all natural, no sugar added, etc...food (it's really not that bad!). I even bought her some sugar cookies today - ha - I felt like I was doing something so wrong! Maybe tomorrow will be less throw up.

Just when I would be ready to give up, and want to kick and scream from laying on hospital bedrest, looking at the same four walls, not knowing my baby's future condition...something would always come along to inspire. A year ago today, I was laying in the hospital, happy to still be pregnant with Logan. It snowed last year in Atlanta. I love snow. I have never really seen a lot of snow - so anything here is beautiful to me! This was the view from my room. You can hardly see the King & Queen Towers.

Looking at pictures from this time last year - I also have ONE picture of me pregnant while in the hospital, I was about 30 weeks - whew - I'd rather look at pictures of the snow! :-)

Just when you want to give up, don't.

Today...

This time last year, Cody and I were walking around IKEA and I was getting my nails done, all the while feeling a little different. I had been feeling a little faint, and kept having "Braxton Hicks" contractions. I never thought twice about it.  
On February 5 of last year, I had my 28 week appointment (I was 27 weeks) with my OB. I was supposed to have my glucose testing and a shot of Rhogam. We walked in, and the doctor who I was supposed to see had an emergency that morning and was at the hospital, unable to see her patients. The office was in a panic, so I offered to reschedule. They insisted that I stay, and I would see the PA, the appointment would just be a little delayed. We waited, and we waited. Finally, we were called back and the PA asked a series of questions, and my answers left her a little concerned. She stepped out of the room. A few minutes later, she returned, stating that she just felt like she needed to check me. Even though she thought everything was fine, and she was already running almost 2 hours behind, she felt like she should just check to be positive. Upon examination, I was 1cm dilated. She panicked, and sent me straight for an ultrasound. During the ultrasound, it was found that I was contracting (consistently) and my cervix was open and measuring 4mm (that is very short). This was bad. I could look at the screen and see my baby's head dropping with each contraction, which I never felt. Within minutes, we were told to get to the hospital (where the doctor just so happened to already be). When we arrived, she was waiting for me, and checked me immediately. I was then 3-4cm dilated, and 70% effaced. At 27weeks pregnant, this is NOT what you want. It appeared as if I would deliver this baby soon, and very soon. The doctor made a quick decision to pack me up and transport me to a larger hospital that could handle a premature baby. Within an hour, I had a steroid shot (betamethazone - to help develop the baby's lungs) and was on magnesium sulfate (to stop contractions) and on my way to another hospital.

I cannot explain the fear. Fear of delivering your underdeveloped baby. Fear of her outcome. Fear of making it to the hospital in time. Fear of not knowing the doctors that would deliver my tiny baby.

Yesterday, we went to visit these women who worked quickly, to save my daughter. They made quick decisions, and made all the right decisions. Had I rescheduled my appointment, had the doctor been there like she was supposed to be, had the PA not checked me, because she was two hours behind and didn't have time; I have a good idea that my baby would have been delivered rapidly, without any warning, and her survival would have been grim.

I went to the hospital, only to spend 38 days on hospital bed rest, not to deliver my 27 week baby, like everyone thought. Then, I thought it was a bad day, now, I know it was nothing short of a miraculous day.

bed rest

Top howevermanyreasons you know you were on bed rest for too long

Disclaimer: This is long. There are a lot of reasons, 22 to be exact, and I'm just getting started.

You call to order your meal, (in one of the largest hospitals in Atlanta) and the lady who answers knows who you are. No name, no room number, no nothing. She also knows you are not a big fan of breakfast, not to force it.

Every tech that comes to get your weight, every morning (Yes, every morning, first thing) knows to cover the screen so you don’t have to see it.

If your nurse comes in before you want her too, you pretend to be asleep.

You have “pet therapy” once a week, and you don’t even really care for dogs. You also begin to have weekly visitors.

You know every nurse by name, and what they are doing when they get off shift. You even begin to ask how their families are.

You have watched every rerun of Law and Order (SVU is my favorite), and feel sort of disgusted when someone interrupts an episode, even though you’ve seen it before.

You get excited when they change the light colors on the King and Queen Towers. (Only for people in Atlanta who are lucky enough to have a room with a view.)

Look forward to “beef tips and rice” night for dinner. It was Wednesday's.

When you’re being monitored, and the baby moves away from the monitor - you don’t call the nurse, silly. You find the baby again yourself.

You tell the nurse where your veins are, and not to fish, stick again.

You have your own bed sheets and comforter, in a hospital bed.

You look forward to “shower days.”

A doctor that comes around weekly exclaims each time, “You’re still here!”

The acrylic nails (pink and white, actually) that you just got filled in (the day before you were admitted) need filled in so terribly bad, they are about to grow off. You begin searching for mobile manicure companies. There are none out there that do acrylic, FYI.

You got a ten minute wheelchair ride to go outside for some fresh air. Ten minutes is up before you even get outside.

Your husband’s air mattress, on the floor, makes a lot of noise at night.

Nurses and staff come to hang out in your room when they are on break (and even when they are not) because they need a break, and you’re the cool room-only because they know you personally because you have been there for so long.

You are awake in the middle of the night before the nurse comes in to wake you to take medication. You can sit up in bed, reach for your water cup, have your blood pressure taken, and take a pill from the nurse’s hand, sip, and swallow – all with your eyes still shut.

You have music therapy. Enough said.

You start to estimate how many cc’s you urinated (I know, gross) because you are tired of peeing in a hat. And you’re actually quite good at it.

When there is a tornado warning, which is the only time you have been in the hall, you see every woman in the hall is sitting reclined in their wheelchair to keep pressure off the cervix. Lovely sight.

You make a howevermanyreason list, so you will always remember your hospital stay!