I thought with our hospital visit back in January, we would be able to skip the late night, pre-labor Labor and Delivery run. I guess that wasn’t the case.
(Obviously, if you couldn’t tell by the title, everything is fine)
After a day of not feeling the baby move hardly at all yesterday, plus not even being able to get to 10 kicks for kick counts (the complete opposite of my usual getting kicked simultaneously in the ribs and bladder), I finally broke down and called the doctor’s phone service. The on-call doctor told me, of course, to go to the hospital.
We’ve done the drive to the hospital plenty of times for all the classes (childbirth, breastfeeding, CPR, etc.), but this was by far the longest ride, even with hubby running a red light. Yeah, we’re outlaws. I hadn’t realized that I’d become so used to the baby’s movements until they weren’t there. I kept anticipating kicks that weren’t happening. I felt a little ridiculous waddling up to the ER sign in desk and having them ask “is it time?”. The nurse asked if I wanted a wheelchair to L&D. The hubby is usually against that type of assistance (he’s trying to convince me that I should reject the wheelchair when we are leaving the hospital with the baby just to be a badass – which I won’t), but once she explained that it was a really far walk, I told them I would take it. I’m not sure if I’ve ever actually been wheeled around in a wheelchair before. It felt even weirder just getting up out of it when we reached our destination – like I was a fraud or lazy or something.
Everyone had to ask me how far along I was. Since I suck at remembering what month (and I never know if I say the month I completed or the month I’m in), I always answer with what week I’m in. However, I was also on the cusp on 33 weeks – my weeks change on Wednesdays, and it was quarter to midnight on a Tuesday. Hubby was less than amused when I would joke that I would be 33 weeks in a few minutes. Half of it was me attempting humor, but half was also my inability to do anything but precisely follow the rules (which, I think, he knew).
The first hour-ish of my stay involved me laying in a bed with a monitor that kept losing the baby’s heartbeat either from slipping or the baby being uncooperative as usual. I was given a clicker to document any time the baby moved. The problem was, with the monitors strapped to my belly, I couldn’t feel much of anything. Finally, I was walked down to the ultrasound department where we would finally find out what the heck was going on as we really couldn’t figure out the point of me being on the monitors for so long.
Just an aside, I apparently rock at maternity triage, however. I called 2 things correctly about other patients. First was an order for “environmental services” to come to a room, or whatever you call the curtained-off area, and I totally predicted that it wasn’t a clean-up – the woman just left and they were resetting the room. The second one was a bit more impressive. A nurse came by saying that another woman’s water broke. I whispered to hubby (the curtain was closed, so I couldn’t see anything anyways) that her water didn’t actually break, but she just peed herself (not that I blame her for that at all!). Turns out I was right on both accounts. If I didn’t hate dealing with bodily fluids and injured people and such, I probably could go in to nursing.
Anyways, the ultrasound is where everything went down. Already long story short, baby managed to turn himself breech since my last ultrasound a month ago when he was vertex. It probably happened the day before and was most likely the reason I couldn’t feel him kicking all of a sudden. After passing every test this pregnancy with flying colors, finding this out was kind of like learning that your straight-A, all-star athlete kid is doing drugs behind your back. I know, I know… plenty of time to move, blah blah blah. I just don’t want a scheduled C-section. I want to go into labor. I want to at least try to deliver naturally before any attempt at surgery. At least he was moving after being prodded by the ultrasound guy’s cattle prod. Only half-joking about that – he literally had a buzzer that he would put against my stomach and sound to make the baby jump. See, baby would move around just fine during all the other checks – breathing, heartbeat, fluid levels – but when it came time for the actual, you know, MOVEMENT part of the exam, he stopped. This kid keeps proving how much of a pain in the ass he’s determined to be. Finally, we got some video of independent movement, most of which I couldn’t feel BTW, and were sent on our way back to triage so that we could leave.
Also, some fun things we learned at the ultrasound: baby is doing his practice breathing (he better be for all of this trouble he’s causing), male ultrasound techs are not nearly as gentle as their female counterparts (especially when he’s pressing directly on my bladder and commenting on how full it is and how I must need to pee really bad), and I also have a fibroid a little over 2 cm wide. Not quite sure how 5 other ultrasounds missed that, but whatever.
The whole visit was about 2 1/2 hours, which, for a hospital, is probably pretty good. Unfortunately, that meant that we didn’t get home until almost 3am. Needless to say, I’m damn tired today.
Also, as a post script, before we went to bed, hubby and I watched the Tupac hologram video from Coachella. Of course, this is when the baby finally started moving again. That is all.