Mom was right. Life isnâ€™t fair. Twenty-two (and a half!) weeks pregnant and Iâ€™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 â€œregularâ€ doctorâ€™s appointment. This one was going to be a cinch â€“ weight and blood pressure check, verify babies are growing appropriately and be on my merry way.
Interesting note to this story here: Iâ€™m still in the hospital. And Iâ€™ve been here since I strolled in looking very business casual chic, armed with my iPhone and laptop prepared to be 30-45 minutes late to work yesterday morning.
The visit started off swimmingly â€“ my weight is still increasing (I know, Iâ€™m as shocked as everyone else . . .), my blood pressure is still low and the babes were surf-riding the waves in their cozy (even if cramped) little home. Then the doctors started whispering to each other.
At first this didnâ€™t bother me; this is a teaching hospital. But they didnâ€™t look like â€œsilly intern, you forgot to mention the torkemonemeter doo-hicky process.â€ They looked concerned. Then they told me to go ahead and get my stuff together and theyâ€™d be right back to chat. They left the room.
Cue ominous music here. I opened the door and peered out, â€œUmm,â€ I said to the boys and no one in particular, â€œis this bad?â€
Upon the doctorâ€™s return, she shared that I was being sent to Labor and Delivery for â€œobservation.â€ My protests of having been deemed â€œnormalâ€ a scant week prior did not sway her.
I called Jon to let him know about the slight change of plans and started wandering around the hospital facility looking for Labor and Delivery. It hit me then. The only â€œnormalâ€ is the continuous lack of normalcy. (I will have to chat with my doctor about this.)
So here I am. Labor and Delivery Room #5 (thatâ€™s gotta be a good sign right?!), trying not to labor and/or deliver.