L & D Trial Run
First off, please go wish my friend Karen happy Congratulations on the birth of her little girl, Evie! Please send lots of good wishes that her little sweetie will be able to come home SOON!
Yesterday, at my 36-week checkup, Snippet decided he was done with being The Boring Baby. He decided to freak the crap out of everyone, instead of being his nice, normal smooth-sailing self.
Everything with me checked out as normal as ever, but when the nurse took his heart rate reading with the doppler, it showed up as 120. Normally, he's in the 140s, so the difference was enough that I could even hear that it was slower than it should be. She left the room and came back with the doctor, who said, as calmly as he could, "We need you to go to the hospital Birthing Center now." He tried to say it all laid-back, and followed it with, "Everything is probably fine, but I don't want to send you away for another whole week on 'probably.'" Though he tried to sound reassuring, there is just something about the phrase, "go to the hospital right now" that can't sound anything but terrifying. In my sudden anxiety, I almost missed the happy confirmation from my doctor that Snippet has officially DROPPED, and this tingly announcement, "At this point in your pregnancy, we would not try to stop labor if it began." (It was only later that night that I could really meditate on just how wonderful and amazing these bits of news were.)
I managed to hold my shit together until I got to my car, at which point I started bawling my dumb head off. I wheezed and choked for a little bit, then cleared my throat so I could call Jake. As soon as he answered, though, the gagging and crying escapade launched anew which, of course, put him into a new panic. It didn't help that I later discovered his cell phone was acting up, so he could only hear about every third word I said. He figured out enough to realize something was wrong with Snippet, and that I was on my way to the hospital.
Once we arrived, we checked into the Labor & Delivery triage unit and I tried to be more composed. I was able to calm myself down on the drive over by remembering tidbits from my Bradley Method classes. The instructor had warned us that technology sometimes creates problems where none actually exist. I closed my eyes on the triage bed, forced my breathing to slow and become something more substantial than shallow, fearful puffs. I tried reassuring myself that the doppler had probably just caught a fluke low reading that meant absolutely nothing at all. I breathed deeply. I closed my eyes while the monitoring screen beeped and spat out the first few pages of printed heart rate readings. Jake and I didn't talk much, instead fixating on the monitor screen, watching the numbers fluctuate: 135, 114, 145, 160, 153......There were a few dips and peaks, but mostly the numbers stayed right in the 135-145 range---right where they should be. The audible thumping of Snippet's heart was only interrupted by his frustrated efforts to bump the monitors off his bachelor pad. He became a peeved little shark, swimming around, pushing at the monitors in big outwardly visible rolls across my stomach. When he got especially irritated, the machine would utter a dramatic swooshing noise, sounding just like a big ocean wave.
After tracking his heart rate for what seemed like a really long time (but was probably a half hour?) we were finally announced healthy and free to go. On our walk out to the parking lot, Jake commented on the wisdom of rejecting constant monitoring during actual labor and delivery. As freaked as we were with each aberrant dip during this minor trial run, we couldn't imagine how spooked we would be during the real deal. It's not like you can be hooked up to a monitor and just ignore that screen, or walk away from it. It's there, reporting with digital, regular clarity a constant flood of data, and scoffing at your attempts to ignore it. So, for once in my life, I'll be someone else besides "the girl who HAS to KNOW." Instead, I'll just be the girl who has to trust---her body, her decisions, her baby.
Yesterday, at my 36-week checkup, Snippet decided he was done with being The Boring Baby. He decided to freak the crap out of everyone, instead of being his nice, normal smooth-sailing self.
Everything with me checked out as normal as ever, but when the nurse took his heart rate reading with the doppler, it showed up as 120. Normally, he's in the 140s, so the difference was enough that I could even hear that it was slower than it should be. She left the room and came back with the doctor, who said, as calmly as he could, "We need you to go to the hospital Birthing Center now." He tried to say it all laid-back, and followed it with, "Everything is probably fine, but I don't want to send you away for another whole week on 'probably.'" Though he tried to sound reassuring, there is just something about the phrase, "go to the hospital right now" that can't sound anything but terrifying. In my sudden anxiety, I almost missed the happy confirmation from my doctor that Snippet has officially DROPPED, and this tingly announcement, "At this point in your pregnancy, we would not try to stop labor if it began." (It was only later that night that I could really meditate on just how wonderful and amazing these bits of news were.)
I managed to hold my shit together until I got to my car, at which point I started bawling my dumb head off. I wheezed and choked for a little bit, then cleared my throat so I could call Jake. As soon as he answered, though, the gagging and crying escapade launched anew which, of course, put him into a new panic. It didn't help that I later discovered his cell phone was acting up, so he could only hear about every third word I said. He figured out enough to realize something was wrong with Snippet, and that I was on my way to the hospital.
Once we arrived, we checked into the Labor & Delivery triage unit and I tried to be more composed. I was able to calm myself down on the drive over by remembering tidbits from my Bradley Method classes. The instructor had warned us that technology sometimes creates problems where none actually exist. I closed my eyes on the triage bed, forced my breathing to slow and become something more substantial than shallow, fearful puffs. I tried reassuring myself that the doppler had probably just caught a fluke low reading that meant absolutely nothing at all. I breathed deeply. I closed my eyes while the monitoring screen beeped and spat out the first few pages of printed heart rate readings. Jake and I didn't talk much, instead fixating on the monitor screen, watching the numbers fluctuate: 135, 114, 145, 160, 153......There were a few dips and peaks, but mostly the numbers stayed right in the 135-145 range---right where they should be. The audible thumping of Snippet's heart was only interrupted by his frustrated efforts to bump the monitors off his bachelor pad. He became a peeved little shark, swimming around, pushing at the monitors in big outwardly visible rolls across my stomach. When he got especially irritated, the machine would utter a dramatic swooshing noise, sounding just like a big ocean wave.
After tracking his heart rate for what seemed like a really long time (but was probably a half hour?) we were finally announced healthy and free to go. On our walk out to the parking lot, Jake commented on the wisdom of rejecting constant monitoring during actual labor and delivery. As freaked as we were with each aberrant dip during this minor trial run, we couldn't imagine how spooked we would be during the real deal. It's not like you can be hooked up to a monitor and just ignore that screen, or walk away from it. It's there, reporting with digital, regular clarity a constant flood of data, and scoffing at your attempts to ignore it. So, for once in my life, I'll be someone else besides "the girl who HAS to KNOW." Instead, I'll just be the girl who has to trust---her body, her decisions, her baby.
posted by deanna at 12:52 PM
9 Comments:
I'm a little shocked they sent you to the hospital for a heart rate of 120. That is still well within the normal range, even if it is different from previous numbers. I'm so happy everything turned out just fine.
oh, wow, how terrifying. You'd think docs would know that mom brains go to the dark place when they say things like that. I'm so glad you and Snippet are just fine and I laughed at your description of him fighting the monitors because Lucy did that at M's appointments all the time. How exciting that you're 36 weeks and dropped! I take back my prediction that you'll go late. :) I can't wait for you to get to do what we're doing (you know, the good parts) ;)
How scary! So glad everything is good with little Snippet. I'm surprised they sent you off for monitoring too. The heart rate started to decrease towards the end of mine too and they told me it was just because the baby was getting bigger, naturally the heart rate will go down a little bit. But always better to play it safe!
While I think that it's weird that they sent you over for a 120, I'm totally in the better safe than sorry camp. I'm glad everything was ok, and that Snippet and you are both well.
You are getting so close - this was most definitely a trial run! Now at least you know what to expect when you get there :)
Wow, D, it could be any time now!!!!
So glad everything is ok. You are so close.
How scary. Glad everything is fine though. It won't be long now.
Thank goodness everything is fine!
Terrifying! I'm glad everything worked out, though, and you and Snippet are well.
So glad that everything is fine!
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