Category Archives: Bed-rest

Home Sweet Home (the musical)

I’m home from the hospital now. And I’m hoping to stay here for three months. I now have weekly checkups/ultrasounds scheduled for the near future – and here’s to keeping them to their one hour schedule (that last one got a wee bit too extended for my taste).

I was so excited to finally come home I found myself singing my own verse from “Home on the Range.”

Scout

Cooper

(Those of you who have heard me sing are likely very appreciative right now that you’re only experiencing this in written form.)

Home, home in my house
Where the Scout and the Cooper both play
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
And the nurses don’t bother me all day

After approximately 24 hours of doing nothing but trying to actually get some sleep (and no panicked or emergency return trips to the hospital), I began reflecting on how lucky our immediate little family of four is to have such amazing friends and family. Thank you all so much for your thoughts, prayers and concerns during a very stressful time.

An Ode To Our Loved Ones:

Please sing to the tune of “A Few of My Favorite Things” because you are all our favorite people.

Mom’s who drive to the hospital in five hours flat
Husband’s who spend every bed-ridden day by my side
This is how much our twin boys are loved
This is how much friends and family care

Bright purple flowers with deliveries each day
Friends who bring Yorkshire Terriers to calm down my tears
Emails that make us all laugh ‘till we cry
This is how much friends and family care

All the thoughts and well wishes sent from afar
Visits from those who come bearing chocolates
Prayers that the twins will stay put and be fine
This is how much friends and family care

When the news is bad
When the needle pokes
When I’m terrified
I simply remember how much people care
And then I don’t feel so bad

Thank you again for all the care, concern, love and support you’ve shared.

From the legions of medical staff (and I do believe we must have met the majority of Kaiser’s maternity staff) – doctors, specialists, nurses and technicians who treated and reassured an extraordinarily nervous pair of parents-to-be, to the uniformed deputy who arrived on behalf of the Sheriff’s Department at zero dark hundred to order the twins to stay put. Among the bright beautiful flowers that brightened our sterile room(s), to the humor and laughter sent our way from afar. The twins have no reason not to hang tight and make their debut at a much (three-month) later date when all those loved ones are eagerly awaiting their healthy arrival.

Not to mention – I’m the mom. And I said so, that’s why.

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Ain’t that a Kick in the Head

Ain’t that a Kick in the Head

As I mentioned in the last post, I discovered the babies kicking and contractions for the first time during my week in the hospital. It is truly amazing how much their personalities continue to develop (granted, this may just be occurring in my stressed out, hormonal world – but I have some proof!)

One of the popular activities in the hospital maternity ward is measuring baby heartbeats. This is not as stylish as the IV accessory, but very close in number to the blood test relay. However, I openly admit – the heartbeat measurement is my favorite activity.

In a normal expectant mother (please disregard my claim that “I am normal” from a previous post; it has been disproved), nurses use a fetal heart rate monitor to trace the child’s pulse. This involves a hockey puck-like disc that is strapped to the mom’s belly with a pink or blue giant stretchy thing.

Since our boys are still rather young, the hockey pucks aren’t always the most successful in finding their heartbeats. Many of the nurses used a small hand held dop-tone machine instead. Hearing their pounding hearts never ceases to make me smile. I even think some of the nurses may have checked on the babes just to help prevent a pending stir-crazy meltdown.

Approximately mid-week, a rather adventurous nurse decided that she was either a) bored or b) seeking a challenge and decided she was going to get a trace of our twins – using the hockey pucks. Using high-tech innovative notation developments, she wrapped a rubber band around one of the discs so we’d know who was A and who was B. (Get it? B is for Band.) And the search began.

Baby A wasn’t terribly difficult to find. It just took a few minutes of coaxing to get him to cooperate. Once we had his location pinned down, the puck was secured and I can only assume A returned to sucking his thumb. Baby B had other ideas.

Earlier in the week, Jon had suggested he get some games to keep us all occupied. Baby B apparently took this to heart. Based on his circumstances, Hide-n-Seek was the game of choice. The nurse and I could hear his heartbeat faintly in the background. The nurse continued to move the puck around on my stomach trying to track Baby B down. But B is very good at Hide-n-Seek. He was winning even though the nurse had the sound wave monitoring machine advantage.

Finally the determined nurse muttered at my tummy, “I know you’re there and there’s not that many places you can hide!” About a minute later I heard a strong heartbeat followed by a loud scratching noise.

“That’s him moving,” the nurse explained as she relocated the heartbeat and started securing the puck for the trace. (All the while, Baby A’s heartbeat contentedly beat away on the non-banded puck.) I suddenly felt a huge WHAM from inside my stomach. Baby B had adopted a new strategy at making his monitoring feelings known. That was the end of the trace.

Baby heartbeats are monitored a minimum of twice a day when you’re in the hospital. Seven days in the hospital, no fewer than 20 heartbeat measurements and Baby B was never once in the same spot. Twice a nurse was able to find him on the first try. Twice the dop-tone machine was immediately met with a swift kick.

Every time, both boys had strong heartbeats. And Baby B seems to be intent on battling any pregnancy complications for the duration. Well, that or he is just really bothered by the monitors. But I will say this. I CAN wait to meet them.

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All Summer in a Day

Any one out there remember Ray Bradbury’s 1954 short story? The story is about a class of school children on Venus. It constantly rains there due to the planet’s thick atmosphere. The sun is only visible for two hours every seven years on the planet.

That is what life is like on hospital lockdown. (Granted, the Bay Area’s fifth “final storm of the season” didn’t help this analogy.)

Naturally, last weekend was gorgeous – perfect 75 degree spring days. I could kind of see the light outside my hospital window. Mostly it was just bored friends and family sauntering around a mini-garden the hospital developed on the third floor.

On day five in the sterile ward (albeit stable with a bluish/purple wallpaper border to make the rooms seem “homey”), my husband convinced our nurse that the little mental stability I had remaining was in danger. Several minutes later the nurse returned to my room with a wheelchair for what my chart now reads as “prescribed sunshine therapy” (I am not making this up).

For ten wonderful minutes I sat outside in direct sunlight. But then we had to roll back into the ward so my medications wouldn’t be delayed. I can only imagine the roller-coaster of exhilaration to desolation those children on Venus felt during their two hours.

This entire pregnancy became an intense whirlwind during my seven-day stay.

  • I received a tour of Kaiser’s Labor and Delivery unit. This includes Observation Room A; L&D rooms 5, 10 and 11; Mom/Baby rooms 39 (twice) and 17; and OR 2. (Most people don’t get to see these rooms until baby birthdays.)
  • I learned how to deal with uncomfortable questions that I assume meant well. When we arrived in the Mom/Baby unit the first time the nurse worriedly questioned, “Where’s the baby?” (As though we’d forgotten him in another room . . .)
  • I took a glucose test for gestational diabetes. I made it an entire hour and five minutes before launching myself toward the restroom. My body did not take well to the sugar syrup “beverage.”
  • I learned what a baby’s kick and a contraction felt like for the first time.
  • I received a training period of what it’s like to get no more than two hours of sleep at a time.
  • I fully realized how much it means to me to be a mommy.

All pregnancy in a week.

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Beep Goes the Machine

Several years ago, our chocolate lab Bailey required surgery on his little hindquarters. The veterinary assistant called me when he came out of general anesthesia to let me know he was doing “just fine.” Bailey was special.

While most dogs simply sleep it off in a kennel (or stumble around in a drunken stupor), our Bailey took it upon himself to accompany the vet on rounds, checking on the other pups in the hospital. Complete with the collar around his neck and dragging the IV along beside him.

This is how I have felt for the past four days.

Mostly, I am confined to the hospital bed. It’s not a comfortable place to be. Wires are attached to various machines. And other machines randomly beep – sometimes approaching hysterics. It can be very unnerving while trying to figure out if the frantic machine is attached to you or simply a general ward monitor.

As I was lying in bed, wide awake, trying to tune out the beeping machines and avoid entangling myself in wires, cords, hospital gown sheets, ties and various other accoutrements, I heard a newborn baby cry. This baby was NOT happy to have entered the world. I’m guessing it was a very healthy baby due to the size and strength of the child’s lungs. He made his opinion of birth extremely clear.

I had a little chat with the twins (over the angry machines and wailing children). Now, I don’t remember my life in-utero or my birth, but I let the boys know that – cramped as though they may be – their current home has got to be better than being shoved into this cold cruel world, attached to countless wires and spending months like a french fry under a Burger King heating lap in a small NICU plastic container.

I am hoping I encouraged them to stay put.

Yesterday afternoon got a bit better. My loving husband smuggled me in some wonderfully comfy contraband pajamas. (Good riddance to the blasted hospital gown! Oh, tangent – good project for the next season of Project Runway: hospital gowns that are slightly less miserable.)

The doctor came back to check in on me; the plan was to go home when everything checked out okay. Everything did not check out okay. The danger was increasing despite the forced bed-rest, IV meds and beeping machines. A minor surgery was the next step.

That was super fun. TMI to go into specifics. Needless to say, the surgery thwarted my chances of being sent homeward bound. Looks like I’ll be here about another week (in what feels like my homey little hospital prison cell).

All is well so far. The boys are still bouncing about and we’re all very hopeful for a future three months of bed-rest and boredom. As I have given up on the short-term quest to be released, I am now trying to pester the doctors into removing the IV stent. (“All patients have to have them as a precaution.” Yeah – well, babies are supposed to stay put for 40 weeks too.)

All movie and book recommendations are highly encouraged. As are visitors who entertain me. This blog has got to get more upbeat in the coming weeks! (And goodness knows I will now have LOTS more time to write.)

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Normal is a State of Mind

Mom was right. Life isn’t fair. Twenty-two (and a half!) weeks pregnant and I’m on bed-rest lockdown.

Thirty-six hours ago, I was a normal pregnant woman in mid-second trimester. Life was good and the boys were bouncing. Twenty-four hours ago I checked in to my very first “regular” doctor’s appointment. This one was going to be a cinch – weight and blood pressure check, verify babies are growing appropriately and be on my merry way. Continue reading

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