Saturday, February 20, 2010

22 wks 5 days: Put Yourself in My Shoes

So I report for my weekly cervical length,and I am having contractions about every 6 minutes or so. They have my cervix on the screen and know I am not dilated. Yet the ultrasound tech still insists that she tell the doctor, who makes me go to labor and delivery at the hospital. I go, but I don't like it one bit.

Once at labor and delivery, they hook me up to the monitor, and I am indeed contracting. and the nurse I have is one I don't know. By this time, I am frustrated and am scheduled for my big return to work in a mere 5 hours. I want out of there!

I tell the nurse that I don't want to go on the brethine pump, and I know that is what they are going to do next. She starts her "what is best for the baby" spiel. "You want a healthy baby, don't you?", she asks. Grrrrrr! Seriously? I give J a look at this point, and he knows I am about to lose it. Yes! Yes, I want a healthy baby. Yes, I know what I am up against. But I want to have a healthy baby with my job and finances intact, without having E and J fall through the cracks in my life. So I cannot help it: I get downright snippy with her, and look at J and say "Well, I can just refuse it, I guess!" Meaning the brethine pump, not the subcutaneous brethine injection they give at the hospital to stop the labor. What I want is for the nurse to try to understand. My frustration at my situation should in no way reflect on whether or not I want a healthy baby. I should be allowed to vent and cry a little without feeling less than adequate as a mother. I want her to put herself in my shoes: to be proud and independent and tough, to have worked to overcome multiple obstacles in life successfully, only later to be victim to random circumstance. Yes, I want a healthy baby. But I also want to be like all of the pregnant women I have known: working, smiling, glowing, and free of bruises and needle marks and pain that seem to mark my pregnancies.

One of the doctors from my OB practice whom I like is already at the hospital for a delivery, and he makes an appearance at my bedside. The nurse must have told him I had an attitude, because he looks at me and tells me I am contracting, yet again, and asks me if I want the sub q injection. I tell him yes, I want it, that I want the labor to stop, but don't want the pump. He asks me why, and I explain that another doctor in the practice told me I would be on strict bedrest until delivery if they had to go that route. Instead, I like it the way it is: playing it by ear and only being off of work when needed, instead of having to be off all of the time. He tells me he is going to call her and see what the thought process was behind that statement, and disappears, dialing her on his iPhone as he walks away.

Minutes later, he is back and tells me he wants me in the office on Monday, and that they are going to put me on the pump then. I can continue the way things are now with work, and I am allowed to leave, but no work tonight.

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