BED REST: The final chapter

WEEK 32

I have now been on bed rest since December 21st. A little over three weeks. It all happened the day I went for that ultrasound appointment. The babies were measuring fine, (whew!) but my cervix had thinned too much too fast, and also, I was having too many Braxton Hicks contractions. They hooked me up to monitors and decided to put me in triage in the labor and delivery ward next door in the hospital. I was alone and terrified. Jesse was at work. I texted him what was going on. He came to meet me and they monitored me for a few more hours.

I was there all day, and finally they sent me home around 6pm. I was to begin home bed rest, level 2. That meant I could use the stairs once a day (to go up to bed and come back down in the morning), I could get up to use the bathroom, to shower, to cook myself simple meals. I was not to stand around or walk much at all. The tricky part was that my mom was arriving at the airport that evening for her Christmas visit.

I could not sleep a wink that night, thinking about what to tell the people at work. I would have to quit work two months early. As far as they knew, I was due back at work right after Christmas, business as usual. What would I do about income? About insurance? Would they be mad at me? What about projects I had been working on? I didn’t want to leave them in the lurch. Of course I called the next morning and everything turned out fine. I had lots of sick time accrued and even some vacation time left. I was probably going to get three more paychecks. 

Christmas was pretty weird for me. 28 people at Thea’s house, gathered around the table, and I’m laid up on the couch, trying to eat dinner lying down. I felt like a freak, I felt sorry for myself, I felt guilty for not being able to do anything fun and entertain my mom. I also felt very lucky that I was not stuck in the hospital, doing my bed rest there. What could be worse, I wondered. Well, I was about to find out.

In the wee hours of Wednesday, January 5th, I awoke to crazy abdominal pains. They feel like gas but I knew from experience (miscarriage #2) that they were labor pains. The real ones. Even in my foggy half sleep I was able to be in denial enough to ignore it and go back to sleep. I called the docs first thing in the morning. They requested my presence, immediately.

I was admitted to St. Vincent Medical Center, Labor and Delivery, birth suite 11. The room was nice! Private, with a shower, it was kind of like a sweet hotel room, but with huge stage lights on the ceiling above me and lots of computer equipment. I started worrying immediately about how I was going to pay for all this. Plus I had no idea how long I would be there. I was 30 weeks along at this point. I had left Jesse at home that morning, happy to drive myself to my appointment and wanting him to spend his day off doing whatever he needed to do. I had to call and tell him what was going on. I let him know by saying “well, looks like you get the bed all to yourself tonight!”

I was given Magnesium Sulfate by IV. This stops contractions. It also makes the patient feel bloody awful. I was flushed, hot, shaky, and it was hard to focus my eyes. They gave me a pretty high dosage for the first day or so. My liquids were limited. I could have only so much water in 24 hours. It was hard because the drug made me so thirsty. It worked, and they began decreasing my dosage. A wonderful side effect of Mag is that it also boosts the brain function of the unborn babies. (It is given to people with brain injuries) I was also given two steroid shots to help the babies’ lungs in case they had to be delivered early.

I was in the hospital for four days. I never knew how long I would be there - they don’t tell you much. The doctor would come in once a day, in the morning to see me for a few minutes to give me an update. There were 11 other “ladies in waiting” there on hospital bed rest. Many times I thought I’d be there for the duration. I just didn’t know.

My contractions eventually stopped and they felt it was safe to send me home. My bed rest is a bit more restricted now. I lie down most of the day. I only get up to pee and we’ve got a plastic chair in the shower so I don’t have to stand up in there. I get myself snacks and water from the kitchen but I am to do no housework at all. No driving. No Sunday dinner. I don’t even eat at the table anymore.

I’m glad to be home, but also, I felt very safe in the hospital. If anything were to go wrong, I was in the best place I could be. The nurses were great, and I got to order room service three times a day from a menu that was pretty good, considering. Now, whenever I have a BH contraction, I drink lots of ice water and lie down. I still get them a lot, but not as much as before. Every little pain I feel is worrisome, but it usually just turns out to be gas.

The hardest part is being alone when Jesse works his four 10-hour shifts. I only see him in the morning and late at night on Saturday, Sunday, Monday and Tuedsay. Wednesday through Friday are great. I really look forward to the days when he’s home.

Everyone has been calling and visiting and offering to help. I really hate not being able to do the damned dishes or the laundry. It piles up for Jesse to do on his days off. He has enough to do! He’s working on his reel, trying to get a better job. He’s building our babies’ co-sleeper. He also needs time to relax. This has been harrowing and stressful for us both. People keep telling me they will help with chores, but I have a hard time asking my friends to do my stupid dishes.

I keep busy. I have learned to knit (although troubleshooting my own mistakes is nearly impossible because I don’t really know what I’m doing yet) I watch lots and lots of tv on my iPad (currently watching season 2 of the X Files), and I finally got these files up and running on my laptop so I can continue to write about this crazy time in my life. I also nap a lot. There were so many times that I just wished I could sit on the couch and watch the clouds go by or watch the rain fall, with my kitty curled up on my lap. Now I am living that dream, you could say.

There are new worries since my last appointment a few days ago. Now the babies are very different sizes again (girl is a whole pound bigger than boy!) and if they don’t even out soon they will have to take them out. They are still within a normal growth curve but it looks like he’s not getting all the nourishment he needs. I talk to him every day and let him know he’s got to be strong and keep growing. I feel him kicking all the time, and every time I’ve been on a monitor, his heart rate has been good and strong. I have faith that he will pull through. I hope this is not a preview of things to come: his sister being a bully. Actually, the neonatologist told me that in girl/boy twins, it is ALWAYS the girl that is bigger. Strange.

To add to that worry (yes it seems there’s always more) I’m flirting a bit with pre-eclampsia. I keep having traces of protein in my urine samples, and my blood pressure is sometimes a bit high. I do not have any of the symptoms, though, so I’m also kind of not too worried about that.

ALL I CAN DO, really, is take it easy and keep my hospital bag packed. They want to see me every week now, and at any appointment they might keep me and I might not come home until the babies are born. Every day that I wake up I’m thankful I made it another day. 32 weeks is a huge milestone as far as preemies go. I want to make it to 36 or 37 weeks. It’s only another month or so. Bed rest kind of sucks, especially when I read everyone’s posts on Facebook about all the things they do, the places they go, but it’s worth it when I think of the babies and how every day they get bigger and stronger.

Also, another good thing about bed rest is that I’m staring to understand that women who are carrying multiples really just ought to lie the fuck down. At this point, I’m carrying a little over 7 lbs. of baby. I’m the size of a full term singleton pregnancy. In the next few weeks I will get HUGE. I no longer have to worry about getting dressed, about my belly looking freakishly huge, about annoyingly insensitive remarks from strangers, about being out of breath trying to keep up just walking along side someone, about varicose veins or anything like that. I’m kind of in hiding. All anyone in this state should really be doing is eating and resting. And on that note, I will arise and get myself a snack.