Baby Z was trying to kill me last night. Kill me!
This little booger can't be very long yet, but I was feeling him kick down by my groin, and at the same time, up by my rib cage on the opposite side of my body. I couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything to get comfortable. I lifted my shirt to look at my belly and J busted out laughing. Apparently, he had stretched out, and all that could be seen from the outside was this diagonal ridge that ran from my right rib border down to my left hip. I picture him in there, stretched out, arms over head, just chillaxin'.
The doctor wanted me to start doing kick counts this week, twice a day. I understand the value of this, and so I have been complying. Everytime I go to count the kicks, I do as it says in the instructions. I get comfy in a quiet place, settle in on my left side, and wait. And within five to ten minutes, Zachary provides enough movement to satisfy the doctor for 2 whole hours. At first, I did exactly as I was told: I laid there and counted the kicks for 2 hours. One time there was 48,and another time there was 54. They tell you they look for at least 10 in 2 hours. So eventually I started stopping after he got to 20 or so. The whole point is to make sure he is okay in there. I assure you, he's fine.
What I'm worried about, however, is his sleep-wake cycle. I know this seems silly, but when E was born, the patterns he showed in his sleep were identical to the ones he had in utero. Awake all night, asleep all day. But Zachary? Zachary is awake all of the time. He kicks all of the time. All day, everyday. He even keeps me up at night with it. Don't get me wrong: I love his little kicks. It tells me he is okay in there. If I don't feel them, I start to feel this twinge of panic. But what is this baby going to be like when he is born? Either this kid is not going to sleep, or he is going to have restless leg syndrome.
Other than that, this week has been uneventful. No crazy contractions since Saturday. I will have a few here or there, but nothing consistent that would send us to the hospital. I am afraid to admit this, but I think being grounded from work has done the trick. I won't be seeing my doctor this week, but I am sort of afraid. I was planning on trying to get them to allow me to return to work on a reduced schedule. The financial picture in this house is getting pretty ugly. And they could take my lack of contractions as a sign that I can, or they can take it as evidence that I really do need to be on bedrest. It could go either way. Not to mention, I will be seeing the only doctor in the practice I have yet to meet at my next appointment. They want us to meet all of them so we will see a familiar face when it comes time to deliver, in the event that someone new is on call. The only exception is for the women who are to have repeat c-sections. I was in that group, so got to pick the doctor I saw each time, as we knew who would be delivering me. But then my uterus had to go and get all dysfunctional, and I got placed in their high-risk group of patients, and now I have to rotate. Oh well. I have my favorites in the practice, the ones I click with better than the others, but they are all wonderful.
The only other thing I have to mention right now is that J noticed a trend this past weekend that may be the answer to my problems. When the contractions get to be at their worst, it is always at the end of the week. I just thought it was bad luck: weekends, doctors not in the office, etc. But he reminded me that I get my progesterone injections early in the week. When I start contracting like crazy, it is closer to the day I am due for the next shot. Hmmmmm.
No comments:
Post a Comment