So, this has been a fairly uneventful pregnancy, until I got to about 31 weeks, when everything fell apart. My blood pressure is consistently high, there is too much protein in my urine, I have gestational diabetes again (which I am convinced is a fluke, since I’ve passed every test except one, but whatever…), restricted activity, weekly doctor visits, and weekly antepartum testing.
On Sunday night, we went to the hospital because I had a headache so terrible, I was seeing spots. The baby looked fine, so they sent me home after a few hours. I met with my doctor on Tuesday, and my blood pressure– on medication– was 178/134. He made me repeat a 24-hour urine capture (yes, it is every bit as gross as it sounds) and ordered a whole bunch of lab tests, and told us if they came back abnormal, he was going to do an emergency c-section at 35 (+3) weeks. There was an extra sense of urgency because he was going out of town for the weekend, and everything had to fall into place by Wednesday evening.
Naturally, the lab lost my blood work, so what should have taken a few hours to process dragged into the next day. My liver and kidney functions both looked okay, but my doctor still had me on alert, pending the results of the 24-hour urine sample. Which disappeared– of course it did!– and was unable to be read for a full day. It came back elevated, too. While not in kidney-failure range, it was still 3x higher than normal. The doctor on call was ready to book an O.R., but based on some insurance technicality that says only MY doctor can tie my tubes, they paged my doctor on his vacation and asked him if he felt okay about holding off on the delivery until he gets back. (He did.)
[I won’t get into it in this post, but out of everything scary that’s happened in the past month, making the decision to tie my tubes was the most emotional, heart-wrenching, guilt-inducing,am-I-making-the-right-choice experience I have had to deal with. Even knowing my body should not carry another baby without causing significant risk to both of us, I still struggle with the idea that this is it. Finito. No more babies for me. I have cried more about this decision than anything else over the past 9 months combined.]
So, Monday morning, my doctor will review the labs and make a decision about surgery. Will it be Monday? Will I see him again on Tuesday and he’ll make his choice then? Will we try to hold off until May 13, the scheduled date, which will make the baby 38 (+2) weeks? Or go until this Friday, when I will be 37 weeks exactly, and we won’t have to worry about “pre-term” anything?
I am exhausted. Mentally. Physically, too, but the up-in-the-air-ness about the whole thing has become my full-time focus. (No wonder my blood pressure is so high!) I wander around the house during the day, flitting from thing to thing. I am restless and unfocused. My attention span is worse than Sam’s. It’s time. Even if it’s not time, it’s time. I’ve never looked so forward to surgery before, even though it will bring the end of one of the best six experiences of my life.
I give you all of this information, not because I think you’re particularly interested, but to better illustrate my frame of mind and how last night’s dream reflects my insanity.
I dreamed that I received an LDS mission call along with my younger brother. Nevermind that I am almost two decades too old to serve (and so is Kevin!), or that I have a family to take care of. In my dream, I was single. Maybe I was back in my 20’s. I don’t know.
Anyway, I got a very detailed brochure about where I would be serving (Nebraska), who I would be paired with, what my responsibilities would be, why I was called to this specific place, and some background information about the people who lived in this area.
My brother’s brochure said, “Dallas, Texas. Report to Provo MTC by 6 AM on [this date].” That was all.
So, after re-reading my information, I discovered that there were some things missing. (Duh.) I knew where I was supposed to end up, and with whom, but I had no idea WHEN I was supposed to leave, or what I was supposed to take with me. I spent the remainder of my dream trying to throw together two years’ worth of supplies while worrying about whether or not I would get to the right place at the right time. Needless to say, Dream Me was completely unproductive. I felt like a chicken, running around in circles with my head cut off. When I woke up, my heart was racing and I was dizzy and disoriented. It took me nearly an hour to settle down and go back to sleep.
I miss the dreams I had when I was pregnant with Sam. At least THOSE ended with a baby. :)
Here’s to Luna, and to a delivery that comes SOONER, rather than LATER. (Which, ironically, is my doctor’s name.) :D