quarantined

I’ve been set free from the “Special Care Maternity” ward at least temporarily under strict rules to relax, do nothing, drink lots of fluid and take my blood pressure at least 4 times a day.


I slipped on the ice (MY FAULT!) on Sunday afternoon and thought nothing of it because I had landed squarely on my behind and caught myself with my elbow, which also happened to be supporting Caroline. Ouch. I felt fine, baby was moving fine, no bleeding or cramping. When Steve looked at me seriously a bit later in the afternoon and asked me if the baby was moving, I figured a call to the OB was in order JUST to be sure. Of course the OB was erring on the side of caution and suggested that he might want us to stop in for a very quick monitoring session on our way home. I called him back hours later when were on the road and his mind was made up – we needed to stop in “quickly.” So we did.


Everything looked great, baby looked wonderful. The nurses kept telling Steve I’d be out within 15 minutes. I texted the fam – I was going home. UNTIL he wanted to see a bit more movement – which really wasn’t going to happen considering it was now 7pm and the pregnant lady had not had dinner yet. I made this fact known to everyone several times, and as I started to feel uncomfortable my blood pressure started going up and up and then my body started contracting. I got an IV, they admitted me -- and then they found protein in my urine and it was at least a 24-hour sentence for me to collect every single drop of pee for testing. I started that at 11pm Sunday – I stopped Monday night at 11pm. In between I drank and drank and drank some more. I sat and sat and sat. They moved me from the Labor side of the floor yesterday afternoon and while I was ecstatic to be freed from the 24-hour monitoring and my new best friend, Mr. IV Pole, I was not impressed to see that this room was designed for someone to be there for awhile if you catch my drift. There was lots of storage and a fridge and if I hadn’t lost it yet – this pushed me over the edge.


Steve brought me a pad of paper, knowing my OCD tendencies. I started making crazy lists for him of where to find all the baby stuff. “Car Seat and bases – attic, to the left behind the chimney.” He looked at me a little cock-eyed until I asked him if he knew where the car seat was and he had no idea. So I made lists. I began to come around to the idea that this might be my home for awhile and I’m not going to lie; there were tears, an abundance of them – which do NOTHING to help you when you want to keep your blood pressure low by the way. Trust me.


I was woken at 5:30 to hop on the monitor for an hour and while the baby looked and sounded great – my “uterus was still irritated” showing some spikes that concerned the nurse, but not the doctor. It was the theme of my visit – the fun of watching each new nurse’s horrified face as she took my pressure for the first time. This nurse ambitiously forced more fluids and I got very sad that the news coming from the doctor this morning would not be what I really wanted to hear, all the while trying to reason with myself that I had to keep myself and the baby safe at whatever the cost. By the time shift change happened and I ordered breakfast I was teary-eyed again relaying the last 48 hours to my new nurse who quickly grabbed the doctor on call to come talk to me. He decided to send me home, but with strict rules to not do anything, to drink lots of fluids, to take my blood pressure and alert them if it went above a certain range, and to watch for various signs of distress. So, I’m keeping a kickcount and sitting in bed surrounded by snacks, two phones, a blood pressure cuff, a blanket, this laptop, and a pitcher of water lovingly left by the hero of the entire week – my husband.


Steve handled Caroline during the three hour events of Sunday night, following her down the hallways and keeping her entertained. He stayed home from work on Monday to entertain her, to be available for me should I need him, and while he was “working from home” he did the laundry, he cleaned, he emptied the dishwasher. He did all the things he thought I would do at home and he did them without me asking him too.When they stopped to see me last night my daughter clung like a koala to her father, scared of her own mother. She eventually warmed up to me, sitting in bed with me.


“Mommy, I scary of you, but not anymore. I forgive you.”


Watching them leave after I practically pushed them out the door at 5:30 because I knew what would await him if her majesty’s dinner was delayed was the most heart wrenching part of my day. I closed the door and rubbed my eyes with harsh paper tissues.


Steve continued to be amazing getting her dinner, getting her to bed, handling a tub, reading stories and waking up this morning to do it all on his own again. Until I called to tell him “come get me.” It was so much more than just his actions as father and sole care provider though. He kept a steady head. He supported me. He was in constant communication. He reminded me to breathe and to stay calm and he let me know that they missed me, but wanted me to be safe. He did exactly what needed to be done and he continues to be such an amazing, supportive, wonderful husband that I still wonder HOW in the world I was so lucky to find him.


I am here at home for now – sequestered to the bedroom – but home and the weight on my heart has literally been lifted. I get to snuggle with my family, our daughter between us tonight. I get to spend a few more precious moments just us three before her brother arrives. I get to be present in her daily life even if I am not able to completely participate in it. School is going to help us with extra days until the baby arrives (though at this point we only need one Monday thanks to the holidays). Kiki is going to come down on Friday to help us negotiate a potential bump in the road when Steve will be away and I will need to get to the doctor for a blood pressure check. AND he would want me to make it known that he was going to cancel said business appointment, but I am forcing him against his will to follow it through.


One thing we did learn: we may not have family down here, but there are some pretty amazing people in our life that were and continue to be willing to do anything and everything to help us. We thankfully didn’t need to act on those kind offers, but was it ever spirit lifting to know that as alone as we felt, we weren’t. To say that helped my blood pressure tenfold would not be enough. The emails, the messages, the texts - they all helped. We feel so supported and cannot thank everyone enough! We are so lucky and so blessed in so many ways.


Baby Macadamia will likely arrive earlier than we thought he would, but we’ve got one heck of a story to tell him about how he came to be and I’m just going to do everything I can to cook him as long as possible.


Our little man – who still STILL has no name.


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