The Big Picture Birthday

It wasn't the beginning we were hoping for, but it was a better beginning than we had expected. Six and a half weeks prior to his birth, I walked into the hospital with a ruptured membrane, gushing fluid and certain that this pregnancy was over. Obviously, I was wrong. We hung in there and at 29 weeks, 6 days Henry was born. He weighed 3 lbs 9 oz, which is rather big for one born so early.

He cried a bit at first, but it quickly became clear that his breathing was labored. He spent the first few days on the CPAP machine, then many days after on a cannula for breathing assistance. It was days after his birth before I was able to see his face.


I spent most of my time at the hospital in the early days. I watched him receive fluids through an IV because he wasn't ready to receive his nourishment through his stomach. He had IVs in his arm, then in his head. It was a big day when the IVs came out and he got his gavage tube. He was ready to start on what milk I could pump and supplemental formula.



I pumped every two hours during the day and many times at night because, let's face it, even a double-electric hospital-grade breast pump is not as efficient as a baby. I was never able to pump enough to meet the demand of a growing preemie. I still get a nervous twitch whenever I see a breast pump. At home I was either pumping, washing pump parts, or transporting dozens of containers of expressed milk to the hospital in my little cooler.


I went to the hospital as often as I could. I had to divide my time between the children I had been apart from for so long while on bedrest, and the baby I had to leave in the NICU. I would bring Thomas and Anna to the hospital with me, leaving them in the Sibling Care play area while I went up to spend time with Henry.

Experience is a hard teacher, but my time in the NICU with Thomas made this so much easier. I understood better what to expect, which questions to ask, and how to work with the process. I had great nurses who were supportive and encouraging. They had a lot of respect for me as a NICU vet and their confidence buoyed me up.

But then, suddenly, Henry came home. That week we had been expecting that he might come home on Sunday, maybe Saturday. Friday I dropped Thomas and Anna off at the Sibling Play Area and I walked up to the NICU. As I walked into the room, Henry's nurse asked excitedly, "How'd you like to bring Henry home today?"

Incredible. Really? He's ready? I was stunned that they would think that he was ready--that I was ready--to come home. It was a homecoming for me as much as him.

The process took hours, but he was finally discharged. He was home.


And now he's a year old. Technically. We'll celebrate now, of course, but I think that another party in November might be appropriate. Ten weeks makes a big difference in the first year and I think I'd like to mark both milestones. I'd like to celebrate the day he was born, but there is a part of me that would like to celebrate the point when he will have grown into an actual One Year Old.


All things considered, I'd just like to celebrate this little boy and his great big smile.

Transitions

It's been a month of transitions. We've moved from Psuedo-Spring, which is only spring because it is Less Wintery outside, to Real Spring. We've moved from Preemie Baby to Real Baby. We've moved from Hermits Entrenched to Errand Runners. We're actually getting out and seeing people. Henry has discovered that there is a world outside of our house and he seems to find it rather shocking.

We went to the NICU reunion last Sunday. I think it's the hospital's way of letting parents know that it is really, truly OK to bring your babies out among people now since RSV season is over. I think that for many parents it was the first time they were able to show their babies off. I met two of the moms I was on the ante-partum unit with at the hospital. Their babies looked amazing. I hadn't seen one of the babies since he was next door to Henry at the NICU. You can imagine how he's changed! There's a big difference between a four pound baby and a 14 pound baby.

Now that spring has come and our worries about RSV have passed (for this season, anyway--and you can just shut up about swine flu because I'm not listening)I'm starting to feel like Henry is a normal baby. I am still washing my hands like a crazed raccoon, but perhaps with less OCD frenzy. We can go out, have people come over, and let the older two kids mingle freely with other children. Normal. Sigh. Now I can start obsessing over how little sleep we're getting.

Now for the pictures.

Thomas has this crazy, over-the-top affectionate personality. When he loves you, he loves you more than anyone has ever loved you and when he hugs you, he hugs you more than you have ever been hugged before. He hugs Henry like this every day. Every time he does it we have to remind him that we hug and then we release. Don't lay on him, Thomas. I don't know that he'll ever figure out how to give a normal hug. He reminds me of that character in the movie Tommy Boy. "Brothers don't shake hands; Brothers gotta HUG!"

Here's a handsome kid. He looks like me. Only cute. And unbeatably five years old. Don't play this kid in checkers unless you're ready to get schooled. He plays with the big boys.

Here's Henry with his auntie. He finds her both fascinating and alarming. Most of us do, too.

Before Thomas was born, Rachel was adamant about NOT being called 'Auntie'. So, of course, we called her 'Auntie Rachel'. But after seeing her beautiful nephew, she quit caring. Spoiled all our fun. Here she is with her newest nephew, Henry.

Henry is now practicing sitting on his own. He does pretty well. I cannot wait until this kid can amuse himself. I'll be really excited about it until I find out exactly what he finds amusing. Then I'll wish he would just sit still again.

And now, Anna. I realized as I was going through my copious digital pile of photos that I need to take more pictures of Anna. She's finally figured out how to pedal a bike. I took a few photos of her demonstrating her new skill. In every one of the pictures she looks like her grandmothers. How odd to see them looking so young!

Henry's baptism is scheduled for Mother's Day. I am overwhelmed that we have made it this far. When I think of where we started last year in July, to Henry's birth at the end of August, I have to hold my breath when I realize how far we have come. We've come to this Spring by the seat of our pants, but we've made it and I'm glad.

We took a few pictures of Henry when he was in the NICU. I didn't share many of them here because they are so complicated to look at. On one hand they are so sad. There is this small, frail baby hanging on to life surrounded by breathing equipment, IV tubes, monitors, buttons and plastic. But at the same time, he is so fragile and so lovely and so tough. His ability to come through these challenges is so amazing. I'm thinking of posting them some time so that you can see how far he has come. I look at them and I am sad, but I'm also amazed at what people can come through when they are loved and cared for.

Hospital: Redux

Ok, so I'm getting really sick of the hospital. If our Children's Hospital gave frequent flier miles for every visit, I'm pretty sure I could take my whole family some place warm for the rest of the winter.

We've been a bit under the weather these days. Anna had a slight fever one day; Thomas had a fever a day later. I thought we might get lucky and that Henry would escape with just a passing cold or fever, but sadly that was not the case. Saturday we started to see a little congestion with Henry. Nothing serious, just a dry cough now and then. Sunday he was doing a little more dry coughing, but it was still nothing that even hit my radar. By Monday, however, I was hauling him into the clinic to see if that weird wheezing noise was anything I should be concerned about or whether is was a result of a harmless cold--you know the type--a snotty nose draining in the back of the throat or something like that. He'd thrown up a fair bit of phlegm the night before, so I didn't think it was outside the realm of possibility. The doctor listened to his lungs and declared them clear.

To make a long, long story short, by that evening Henry had stopped breathing properly and was restless and wheezing hard. He would try to cry and end with a dry, barking cough which only made him cry harder. I tried all the usual things and then spent a couple of hours dithering about on the advisability of bringing him to the ER. I was reluctant to spend several middle-of-the-night hours in an ER, subjecting Henry to all manner of unpleasantness, only to be told that he was 'fine' and to 'keep an eye on him'. Finally, I decided that I wasn't going to sleep anyway and Henry certainly wasn't getting any rest, so I might as well bring him in and be told that it was 'nothing'.

Nothing, indeed.

I've found that there is something worse than sitting for hours in an ER waiting to be seen by the doctor on call. What's worse is going up to register your baby and getting a whole lot of attention all at once by everyone who's available.

It turns out that croup causes a lot of excitement when small babies have it.

The doctor told me her diagnosis and all I could think was, "Croup? Seriously? Didn't Anne Shirley fix it with some humidity and ipecac?" I thought it was sort of like whooping cough--one of those antique illnesses that no one got anymore. Apparently they do.

We were finally able to come home after 13 hours and a LOT of medical intervention. He was given two doses of a steroid, among other more dramatic things, which is making him a little restless. He still has a wheezy cough, but he is able to breath without too much effort. They predicted that he will be right as rain in about five days, give or take. Despite my own bone-crushing cold and fever, I am still awake, listening to him breath and fuss a bit in his sleep. I am tense, though relieved, that the worst of this illness has passed.

I'm sure there are those of you who know all about this sort of thing and would have handled the whole incident with poise and aplomb. I envy you. This was likely the second most frightening thing that has ever happened in my life and I hope to never, ever have to repeat it. I'm an optimistic person, in general, but this time I am seriously out of sunshine. O.U.T. If Pollyanna were here, I'd push her to the ground and maybe take her lunch money.

Sometimes it seems like I have a long, long life left to live. Sometimes I wish I were already 90 years old. I think that by the time I'm 90 I'll finally be able to catch my breath and relax.

Eureka!

We have an older house with older windows. It's not usually a warm place in the winter with the leaks and drafts that usually accompany an older home. This winter has been feeling a little chillier than usual though.

I finally figured out why our house has been feeling so cold this winter.

Henry and I were sitting in the nursery, rocking and nursing (yea!). I'd been noticing that the baby's room was cold these days. Odd, since it's usually the toastiest room in the house. I could hear the wind bowing outside and I noticed that with each gust the shade and blinds on the window would sway back and forth a little. You don't suppose. . .

Yup. While I was away this summer someone opened the storm window in the nursery, which I don't usually do since the sound of the whistle at the train crossing can be a little loud for a nappy baby. I've been so distracted that it didn't even occur to me to go around shutting the storm windows like I usually do which would have caused me to give the nursery windows a cursory glance at least.

A quick tour of the upstairs revealed an open storm window in our room and the bathroom. I didn't check the windows in Anna's room yet (I'll bet at least one of them is open) since Henry was sleeping by that time. Now I'm going to go around and check the windows downstairs. I'm just hoping that the storm window in Thomas's room are closed since we already put plastic up. The storm windows in his room hardly count anyway, though. Often in the winter you can see tiny drifts of snow blowing in around the edges of them and the wind will blow the curtains inside the room.

Minnesota. God, I love it here.

Homecoming

The day has finally arrived!  Henry is home!

He came home Friday, to my surprise.  The night before he had his 12 hour scan test where they monitor his vitals to make sure he isn't dropping his heart rate or his breathing and that it's safe to bring him home.  I was worried about this one.  But I'll save you the drama by saying that I didn't think he would pass and that it would be still more days before we could bring him home, but I walked into the NICU that morning and the nurse asked, "So, how would you like to bring Henry home today?"

You bet.

It took way longer than it should have, but finally, FINALLY, Henry was discharged and we could bring him home.

When it came to leaving, I had both Thomas and Anna with me, Henry in his car seat, and several bags of Henry's things to bring home.  They offered to have one of the care assistants meet me out front with Henry and his impedimenta and I happily accepted.  But I looked at Henry, sitting in his car seat, and I considered how many hours it had taken to get him discharged.  Then I picked it up and said, no, I had better bring him with me.  I didn't want to risk the hospital screwing it up and having to spend another 4 hours trying to get him out the door.  No, I was taking him with me.  I could leave his blankets and clothes behind, but I wasn't going anywhere without my baby!

As I drove out of the parking lot I thought of the weeks and weeks I had spent in the hospital (7) and the weeks and weeks Henry had spent in the NICU (5).  I thought about how Saturday would be the first day in months that I wouldn't be going to the hospital.  I remembered it all and I started to cry, though only a little because I didn't want to have to explain to Thomas why I would be crying.  So much has happened and now we can finally try to settle back into our new life. 

I've had a premature baby before and I know that the next few months will be long ones.  But for now I'm not going to worry about it.  For now it's enough that Henry is finally home and all is well again.

Henry and Thomas

Henry and Anna (Henry is just over 5 lbs)

Upswing

Are you ready for some good news? For a change?

Henry has really gotten the hang of nursing! He just seemed to "click" with the idea of sucking and swallowing (and breathing) and has had a very good run of oral feeding. He got his first bottle at 1 a.m. last night and he did very well at that, too. The nurse practitioner who is in charge of Henry's case said that if he continues to do well he may be ready to come home this weekend. Did you catch that? This weekend.

I'm bringing in his car seat when I go in again this afternoon. Preemies need to have a "trial" in their car seat, hooked up to monitors for a period of time (15 min? 20 min? I can't remember what happened for Thomas). They want to make sure that their position in the car seat doesn't cause them to have apnea spells. Henry will also have another scan where he will be hooked up to very sensitive monitors for 24 hours and the doctors will see if he's having spells of not breathing or dropping their heartbeat that are too brief for the regular monitors to catch.

If he passes all of these tests, then he will finally be discharged and allowed to come home. Our house, of course, isn't anything to look at right now and is causing me more than a fair share of stress as the end of our remodel keeps getting pushed back. Everything is in disarray as we wait for the end of this (horrible) project. But I don't want to think about that right now. All I want to think about is that our time at the hospital may be coming to an END!

Hooray!

Babies Sleep

It's a big day for wee Henry.  He's been practicing nursing for a few days now, but today he actually got some milk for his efforts!

Babies don't develop a reliable suck-swallow reflex until they're about 35 weeks.  Henry is showing signs that he is getting ready for life outside of the hospital.  He is over 4 lbs now and you can see by the picture that he is getting chubby cheeks!  I congratulated him on looking more like a baby and less like a fetus.  Perhaps that's only funny in the NICU.  When these babies are born so early they don't look like the babies you typically see strolling around malls in car seats and strollers.  Slowly, though, they grow and you start to see the baby they are going to be.

They have taken him off of that caffeine-like medicine.  He is still having the spells where his heart will stop beating or he will stop breathing for a bit, but the nurses don't seem concerned.  He bounces out of them pretty quickly and without intervention.

I have hopes that Henry will be home in about three weeks.  It could be as early as two weeks, but I'm not holding my breath.  And I'm willing to give him all of the time he needs.  Premature babies are more challenging to care for once they're finally home.  It's a pain to drive in to the hospital every day, but I am appreciating the 24 hour nursing that Henry has while I take care of things at home.  I can't wait until he is ready to come home!

Also!

I put on my pre-pregnancy pants today. While this would make normal people happy, I have to admit that it made me a little sad. The only reason I can fit into these pants three weeks post-partum is because I never had a chance to get very pregnant to begin with.

Things like this come up from time to time. I'll notice what I've lost in Henry's early birth and with my weeks in the hospital. I'll be able to let go of what should have happened eventually, but until then I'll have to simply be sad or angry on occasion.

Here's a small example: I live in Minnesota. It's winter here about six months out of the year and spring and fall another three and actual summer is only three months long. I went into the hospital in mid-July, right before my birthday. I was discharged at the beginning of September and got to enjoy a week of summer weather before getting smacked with hard core Fall. The high for today? Mid-sixties. I want my freakin' summer back.

Progress

I am so tired. I don't know how much of this is due to the bed rest and how much is due to irregular sleep patterns.

I've really given up pumping much milk at night. I pump about every two hours during the day and several times in the evening after the kids go to bed. I'm taking fenugreek in an attempt to increase my milk supply. It works great if you want to smell like maple syrup. For me, it is doing little to help me make more milk.

I am hoping that I'll be able to make enough milk to nurse Henry when he gets home. I'll have to do high-calorie preemie formula twice a day when he gets home and my doctor thinks that between this and what I'm producing he should have enough. I'll give it a trial, but it's hard to be optimistic when I spend time pumping and have so little to show for it. I am coming to terms with the idea that Henry might be my "bottle baby". In the meantime, if any of you have miracle ideas for increasing my milk supply while I'm pumping, I would love to hear them.

They had put Henry on a medicine that acts like caffeine to stimulate his heartbeat and breathing. It was working very well and now they want to try him off of it. They'll know pretty quickly if he needs some more time on it. If he doesn't, that's great; if he does, it's not a big deal since he'll do fine off of it as he matures.

They also moved Henry from his isolette into an open crib. We are waiting to see if he will maintain his own body temperature. So far he has done okay. He is hanging on to the bottom edge of what they deem acceptable. I imagine that he will improve as he gains more weight and that he won't need to be moved back to the isolette unless someone gets twitchy.

That's all for now. I need to put Anna down for her nap and see if Thomas feels sleepy. I need a break. It is amazing how tired a person can be and still go trough the motions of living.

Photos

I thought I'd share some pictures of Henry. He's back up to his birth weight now--a whopping 3 lbs 9 oz.

They moved him into a "satellite nursery". Since he is stable they decided he could go to the Level II NICU and out of the Level III NICU. They needed to make room for more critically ill babies. It means we have to give up our private room and that instead of one nurse to two babies, Henry is sharing a nurse with two to three other babies. I miss the privacy of our single room. I miss it a lot. Henry is in a big room that can be divided by curtains. I'm not looking forward to teaching Henry how to breastfeed in such an open area! But I am happy that Henry is doing so well.

The Verdict Is. . .

The doctors have decided for now that Henry's drops in heart rate and breathing are due to his prematurity. His hemoglobin is a bit low, but not low enough to make the doctors think that this is what is causing his problems. For now, they have decided to put him on a medicine that acts like caffeine to stimulate his breathing and heart rate. So, my baby is gestationally 31 weeks along now and already he's an espresso junkie.

I'm inexplicably pleased with this diagnosis. Because I knew that this might happen, it seems less frightening. It also means that Henry will get poked one less time than he would if this were a problem requiring a blood transfusion. Peter is still looking into donating some blood so that it will be available if Henry does require it. It won't go to waste in any event.

I'm hoping that in a few days he'll be off of the oxygen and back on track. He'll be 32 weeks on Thursday and I'm hoping that he'll continue improving and that he'll be on track to coming home. You know--in another month and a half.

This Is What They Mean When They Say "Expect Setbacks"

I called Henry's nurse at the NICU to check in on how he's been doing today.

Premature babies often have what are called "spells" where they either stop breathing or their hearts stop beating. Sometimes they are subtle and the babies come out of them on their own (which is what Henry has been having periodically) or they are more dramatic and they require someone, like the nurse, to come in and rub their scalp or move them to get them going again. Thomas had these, like most premature babies, and Henry had been having them, too. They weren't a big deal and he was doing very well since he only had them occasionally and most of the time he came out of them on his own. Yesterday he started having them more frequently and they had to put him back on the oxygen.

I always suspect the nurses of down playing any of these "bumps" in the road to prevent parents like me from weeping on the phone and tearing their hair out overnight. However, the nurse was pretty casual about this little setback. She explained that they would be doing some blood tests to see if he was destating more due to low hemoglobin levels or if he was possibly not making his own red blood cells yet due to his prematurity. If this is the case, they would need to give him, what did she say?, a blood transfusion? It's hard to say because the buzzing in my ears was pretty loud at this point. I asked if Peter could donate the blood since he was a match, but there wouldn't be enough time to donate and have the blood processed for Henry to get it. I imagine if he needs multipule transfusions this would be possible for the future.

I was just begining to think that Henry's stay in the NICU would be as boring and uneventful as Thomas's had mercifully been. I had been hoping that my biggest challenge would be developing a decent milk supply using the breast pump. I guess patience is still the greatest virtue at this point. It's just so hard to be patient and brave all at the same time.

Spinning Plates

We're having a quiet day at home today. We're trying to settle into some kind of familiar routine, despite having a battery of childcare helpers coming while I recover from Henry's c-section. Our kitchen is still torn up (and thus the whole house) from the remodel and nothing is where is should be, including the plumbing, and this is contributing to a sense of disruption. A quiet day at home together is just what we need.

Any surface appearance of normality is purely an illusion for me, though. Most of my family is here with me, but it's not the same as it was. It's strange how Henry has changed our family even though he's never been here with us. I don't think our family will be the same while he's still in the hospital.

I don't feel as torn and guilty about Henry's hospital stay as I did when it was Thomas spending his weeks in the NICU. But days like today when I could go to the hospital and spend time with Henry, but instead choose to stay home with the rest of my family are a terrible balancing act. I need to weigh Thomas and Anna's need for time with me against Henry's need to have me there with him, bringing him pumped milk, holding him skin-to-skin, and hearing my voice. I can't be at the hospital every day, especially not while I am depending on someone else to drive me there and pick me up. But today I am choosing to stay home. Peter could load the kids into the car, make the 25 minute drive to the hospital, bring everyone home and then reverse the process to pick me up in a few hours. But instead we are here, just hanging out.

We'll go tomorrow and I won't be able to go Tuesday. Wednesday I'll go, but I don't know what is happening on Thursday and Friday. And I don't know what will happen when my Helpers go back to their work and I'm home caring for Thomas and Anna again during the day. I'll most likely drive to the hospital in the evenings.

This will only last a few more weeks (Five more? Maybe?) before we are all able to be home together. I'm so glad I won't always have to make decisions about who needs me most. At least not every day.

Baby Mine

I can't wait until I get home so I can post an updated picture of Henry. He is so beautiful.

I got to hold him on my chest last night when I came to visit. They've taken him off of that clunky breathing machine and now he's on a low-pressure nose-prong type device that gives the least amount of breathing assistance. I like it much better because it's less intrusive and seems much more comfortable for him to wear.

Now that he has a smaller tube I can actually see his little face! They took off the hat he had been wearing and I've been able to see that he has a fair bit of dark, wavy hair, too. His face is wrinkly and he looks like a teeny little old man. He is so sweet.

In somewhat related news, they are holding the Republican National Convention just a couple of blocks from the hospital we are staying in. I'm discharged tomorrow (ack! Who will take care of me now?) so for the next week I will have a very hard time getting back here to spend time with Henry, when I am able to come at all. I'll have driving restrictions for two weeks as I recover from surgery.

I think that most of our friends and family who have been coming to care for the kids are going to continue to come to help out as I recover. Can I begin to tell you how lucky I am? It is hard to swallow your pride when you first begin to really depend on other people to help you. It is hard to realize that you simply cannot do what needs to get done on your own. But when you move past that, you are nothing but grateful that you have people who love you so much and who are able to give you the help that you need. We have all of these people who have helped us freely with no expectation of repayment. What more can a person want in their life but such wonderful people like these? Henry is so fortunate to have such a group of people waiting to welcome him home.

Welcome, Baby!

I'd like to introduce you to our newest little one. Meet Henry Steven Edstrom. He was born last evening at 5pm and weighs 3 lbs 9 oz.

He was breech, so of course he needed to come via cesarean section. Everything went well and he cried when he was born. He was just beautiful. Even though he was breathing at his birth, they still opted to put him on a cpap machine so that he wouldn't get too tired out trying to breathe. He didn't need to be put on a ventilator or anything like that--hooray! He is doing very well, especially for a 30 week baby.

I know the picture looks a little scary with the breathing mask and the IV board on his hand and all of the other tubes and tape. Believe me, though, that he is doing an amazing job. He's moving quite a bit and is even opening his eyes for us when we're in the room talking to him. I only wish we could spend more time with him, but it's hard for me to be up and out of bed for very long.

I just wanted to stop in and share our good news. I want to thank you all for your prayers, kind wishes, and support during this difficult time. You have no idea how your comments and emails have cheered and encouraged me.

Now we wait and hope for a speedy and trouble-free stay in the NICU!

Waiting

My days left in the hospital are numbered.

Last night there was a bit of green discharge which looked like meconium in my fluid. The doctor on call ordered an IV, no food or fluids, and for me to be monitored for six hours--from six until midnight. I'm afraid I disgraced myself when the IV person tried three times to dig a needle into my vein. By the third time she was trying unsuccessfully to put it in my hand, I started crying for her to stop. They got another person to come in and she took two stabs before it got put in. It took quite a while before I was able to settle myself down. It was overwhelming to have to be continuously monitored, with an IV, and not even water to drink.

By midnight I was off the monitor--baby looked fine--and I was finally able to sleep. At six the doctor wanted me to spend another two hours on the monitor, so the sleep was short-lived.

This morning Peter and the kids came for a visit, which is lucky, I suppose, since my white blood cell counts came back elevated and indicating that an infection is brewing. Peter was able to talk to the doctor who is rounding today and hear that we might be delivering the baby today, or maybe not. Right now we don't know what will happen for sure since they want to continuously monitor the baby to see how he or she is doing. If no other signs of infection appear and baby is doing well, they will probably leave the baby in a while longer. If it seems like baby is in distress at all, they will deliver the little one today. Either way, my hospital stay just got a lot less pleasant.

I'll be 30 weeks tomorrow.

Six Weeks of Bed Head

I've been in Hospital de la Casa for six weeks now awaiting the impending arrival of Baby Nuevo. Obviously, I am still pregnant. I really want to make it to 30 weeks, which happens on Thursday. After a night like last night, I know to keep my goals modest for a while.

I didn't sleep much last night because I kept having uncomfortable contractions that woke me up. Finally, around four in the morning I gave up on sleep and watched the clock for a while. I was having contractions every ten to fifteen minutes. I thought about calling my nurse, but I didn't know what to ask for and I didn't know what to expect her to do. She might have hooked me up to the monitor, but it's always been poor at picking up my contractions in the past. In the end I went back to sleep and woke up at 6:45. The contractions seem to have settled down again, though my uterus feels sore from all of the activity. I wish the doctor I saw yesterday were on rounds again today because I'd like to ask her what she thinks these contractions are doing. It seems strange that after all of these weeks post-rupture that I would suddenly go into labor without any other symptoms of infection. The doctor rounding today is a doctor I have never met before so I think I need to proceed with caution when discussing the contractions. I don't want anyone to overreact and operate before we absolutely have to. The baby's heart rate looked good on the monitor this morning, so I don't see any reason to panic per se, but I have concerns.

Really, all I want is the doctor to say it's no big deal and that we need to "wait and see".

I wish I knew how this is all going to end. It would save me a great deal of worry in the meantime. In this case, doctors don't seem to have many answers, but if this one has an interesting opinion, apart from "wait and see", I'll let you know after he's done with his visit.

Highs and Lows

I realize the day isn't half over, but I thought I would share a high and a low of my day so far.

Low: Though I am not a wildly fit person, my calf muscles are normally very tone. Today I noticed that even when I flex my calf muscles they are still soft and mushy. Atrophy: Achieved.

High: I had my daily meeting with one of the specialists who is rounding the unit today. She is one of the more conservative (though not pessimistic) doctors I've had. She said that based on how I've been doing so far, she thinks I could be one of those who goes on to 34 weeks. I know I've had other doctors share that speculation, but it was a more impressive comment coming from this doctor. Of course, it doesn't mean that I will go on to 34, or even 32, weeks, but it was an encouraging thing to hear.

29 Weeks and Contractions

Today is Week 29 for our baby and I think I've been noticing some changes in my pregnancy. This last week I've been having some lower abdominal cramping--not like the normal crampy feeling you'd expect during your period, but more like my uterus is getting irritated by holding a growing baby with little to no fluid to cushion his or her movements. I've also been noticing more Braxton-Hicks type contractions. They aren't real contractions, per se, but I've definitely noticed my body "working out" like it would if I were having a normal pregnancy. I wouldn't be surprised to find that my cervix has been changing this week, though, of course, it is difficult for the doctors to check.

I'd been mentioning this off and on to my nurses in a low-key manner, but this morning I mentioned it to my nurse in a "yes, I've been having contractions" kind of way and it set off a lot more activity than I had anticipated. I tried to explain that I have been having these all week and that they hadn't gotten particularly stronger, just a little more frequent. They nearly prepped me for surgery. They wheeled in the IV, talked about restricting my food and drink, and drew a few blood samples. Honestly, they can do whatever they want, but I don't want to have to wear an IV while they "wait and see" what my body does. They are painful to get, painful to wear, and awkward to haul around. I was scared. I really didn't want one. And I really didn't want to have to have surgery or the baby today! As resigned as I am to the inevitability of a Cesarean, I was terrified at the idea of being wheeled in to the operating room and being prepped for surgery. It was a terribly lonely feeling.

When my doctor came in to talk, I emphasised that I had been having these contractions for a few days now and that they weren't any stronger, just a little more frequent, blah, blah, blah, back-pedal, down-play, minimize. In the end, she seemed to think that we could wait a bit longer before beginning any actions that would prepare me to deliver. I was so relieved.

I'm feeling better now, though I wish Peter could come up this afternoon and sit with me for a while. Of course, he can't and I won't ask, but sometimes I get very tired of having to do this alone. All of the wonderful support and help we've gotten around the house, with meals and with the kids only walks me so far down this path. It seems I need to go the rest of the way by myself. Even though I have accepted the fact that Peter most likely will miss the actual delivery of this baby, I didn't think being alone would bother me so much.

Knitted Bullet of Love

This is a picture of the first pair of socks I've ever knit. I finished them for Peter because I think he misses me. He assures me that they actually fit, but I'm waiting to see if he wears them more than once. I have high hopes. If you're an interested knitter, I used Trekking XXL sock yarn and the basic sock recipe from Stephanie Pearl-McPhee's book Knitting Rules. I can't get enough of that woman's writing.

It's funny--you'd think that with all of this "time off" to knit I'd be stocking up on little knitted things for the baby! I'm thinking of the longies, the sweaters, the bonnets, the booties, the inevitable baby blanket, but, no. I'm not knitting for the baby much at all. I have a pattern and a sweater's worth of yarn all ready to go, but I feel like I have to finish some socks for the kids before I can really feel free to start on the sweater. I wanted to finish some mittens for them, too. It's hard to knit for the baby when I'm missing Thomas and Anna and Peter so much. For some reason, my concern for Baby Nuevo isn't translating into little woolies. For some reason, it smacks of over-confidence to me. It's as though casting on for a sweater or blanket is like driving my stake into the ground and declaring that there WILL most certainly be a baby and that the baby will need KNITWEAR! I'm not sure I'm ready to committ to that level of confidence yet.

Also, logic dictates, if the baby were born anytime soon, the baby would be in the NICU for many, many weeks, leaving me with ample time to 1) Recover from the surgery (the baby is breech and unlikely to turn again) and to 2) knit for the baby while at home looking after Thomas and Anna. In addition to this, logic also tells me that if the baby isn't coming until 34 weeks (please, God!), I have weeks and weeks to knit before the baby will be needing clothes of any kind, much less knitwear! So, I'm putting it off.

I'm going to whip out a pair of socks for Anna and a pair for Thomas in the next couple of days and after that I'm going to suck it up and knit a sweater for the new baby. I'm looking forward to it, even though it is a nervous first step. There is a slight chance that I've been over thinking this whole thing a little bit, too. After nearly five weeks on hospital bed rest, I suppose it's natural to get a little nutty about something.