The next day, the doctor who does rounds decides that unfortunately I’m not allowed to shower for another 24 hours and he also decided that I need to continue the medicine that makes me so dizzy and nauseous for another 24 hours (making it 72 hours instead of the promised 48).
The doctor is older with a full beard and nice eyes and when he explains that this medicine will help my baby’s brain development I know that I would and will do whatever it takes for my baby. Maybe, just maybe things will be okay, my baby will stay in the womb and her lungs and brain and everything else will develop and she will be born whole and healthy. I can do this, we can do this!
My mood brightens (again, I am pregnant) when he says that I am allowed to eat again, yay!
At the nurse’s insistence I start out slow with just some dry toast and eggs (way better than the stupid liquid diet trays they have been giving me so far).
After a couple of hours “yay” turns into “yuck”. I seriously can’t remember a time when I have ever been this sick.
I don’t even make it to the bathroom and its bad, I feel so weak, I can barely press the call button for the nurse and I don’t even care that she sees me at my very worst.
It is beyond disgusting and I’m too shaky to actually get up so the poor nurse has to scurry around the room finding bedpans and bowls that I can vomit in.
When I finally feel like I can’t possible throw up anything else and I start dry heaving (sorry for the crazy TMI here) I try to leave the “ruined” bed (my IV stand in tow) but to my absolute horror my legs don’t hold my weight and I actually fall to the ground in a sobbing mess.
The nurse actually calls for back up (like a police might to a crime scene) and all I can think about is “what will they do with the bed?” and “I’m not allowed to take a shower”.
Luckily the second nurse who comes to the rescue is older and seems more in control, she takes on a motherly role as she gently grabs me from the floor with the help of the other nurse as they half carry me into the shower where the more experienced nurse gently washes me with a washcloth. Then she puts me on top of the toilet lid, instructing me to brush my teeth as she brushes the hair from my face.
Miraculously, the bed is made with new, clean white sheets when I’m led out of the bathroom and it even smells eh…clean (well I wouldn’t call that sterile smell good).
Exhausted I fall in a dreamless sleep and at least I get a couple of uninterrupted hours of rest.
When I wake up it’s time for my vitals again, nurses check my temperature, blood pressure, changing the fluid bag and they keep monitoring baby’s heartbeat. The next couple of days pass by in a blur of more of the same, I’m falling into the hospital routine and I’m finally starting to feel better.
It’s a struggle to go to the bathroom as I have to drag the IV with me, I still feel a little weak and it’s difficult to sleep since people keep coming in to my room, I see social workers and doctors and nurses and high risk specialists but am advised not to see anybody from the neonatal staff because they want me to stay calm, relaxed and positive about my baby’s “outcome”.
I still can’t believe that I am here and I have multiple scares, I get a fever (luckily it’s low grade and goes away), I have contractions and need more medicine that helps them go away, nurses come rushing in because my baby’s heart rate drops and doctors are being called.
The only good thing in all of this is that my mom is really bonding with my son and she feels really good about getting to know him, she also feels better physically as she is getting over her flu.
I miss my little guy like crazy and since my mom doesn’t drive I don’t get to see him every day.
My husband is working way to much so I don’t get to see him either and I feel bad that my mom has to take care of my very active son, long hours, stuck in our house.
On Wednesday, my sister lands from Ohio, I am incredibly thankful. She helps my mom, she drives my son to preschool and to playdates and she even takes my mom out for some well- deserved lunch and shopping.
My husband takes care of my son during the weekend and my sister comes to visit me at the hospital.
It is so nice to see her, she is truly my best friend and I miss her so much. We don’t get to see each other nearly enough and that makes me sad, but she is here now and we get to be silly and laugh.
I know that she is worried about me but her positive attitude is contagious and I just love being able to hang out with her even if it is only a couple of hours for a couple of days.
When she leaves on Sunday I feel sad again but more determined than ever to keep my baby inside and prove to everyone that I can do it. I have already beaten all the odds in making it my first week when 60% of women go into labor within the first week after their water has broken (most women not making it past the 24-48 hour mark, obviously I realize it is not their fault and this is not something you can really control) but I still feel pretty good about this.