Enough Already!

St. Johns High Risk Maternity Wing

After being moved from the Labor and Delivery section of the hospital in the middle of he night, I was able to get 7 hours of uninterrupted sleep – until my mother called and awoke me and my sleeping roommate. 

Having a roommate actually to out to be a blessing; someone to talk to.  She was 21 weeks along when they discovered that her cervical stitch had come apart and her bag of waters were protruding through her cervix.  They broke her bag of water, which she tells me was inevitable, and sent her home to bed rest.  Lucky? Quite the contrary.  According to her doctor (how could I not hear? He was 2 feet away!), her baby was not viable until 24 weeks and if she delivered before then, she was basically fucked.  He didn’t use those words exactly, but the message was, even if she were in the hospital and her baby came, there would be nothing that they could do.  So she was released to bed rest at home until she made it to 24 weeks.

At that point, I realized just how lucky I was and what a true gift I was getting b/c I got to stay in the hospital b/c there was a chance my babies could survive if they were born.  My heart ached for her, but breathed a big sigh of relief that I wasn’t in her shoes. 

My mother came in from

Ft.

Lauderdale

and kept me company all day.  She brought me books and some good conversation.  My husband had another job interview that day, so he couldn’t be there until later.  I didn’t want  to stress him out over the hospital thing b/c it sure would be nice if her were employed when the babies came, especially to help pay the hospital bills we were just beginning to incur. 

So, there I sat.  Looming unemployment, a dying dog, and me at risk for delivering 2 severely premature infants – Life, just showing me its ass again.

Labor and Delivery Part II

I was up pretty early since I couldn’t sleep the night before.  I started out my day by calling the office manager of the firm to tell her what the situation was and ended up crying my heart out to her.  I couldn’t tell the Partner-in-Charge as he was burying his mother that day. 

I spent the rest of the day letting people know what had happened to me.  I remained hooked up to what I considered the worthless fetal monitor b/c more times than not, it did not track the babies’ heart rates.  I could tell that the nurse on this shift had a lot more experience than the night nurse b/c she basically didn’t give a shit. 

I finally met with the on-call physician from Dr. Delight’s office, “Baby Jesus”.  Dr. Delight refers to him as Baby Jesus b/c he is younger than her and most people think he looks like Jesus with his long wavy hair.   I was impressed with Dr. Baby Jesus.  Very intelligent and great bed side manner.  He was optimistic, but careful about not giving me any false hope.  To sum it up, the key to a successful outcome for the babies was whether or not the shortening of my cervix could be stabilized by bed rest.  Beyond that, all I had was a hope and a prayer. 

I was told that I could move from the labor and delivery room to the high risk pregnancy wing – the advantage being twofold:            1) I could be released from the worthless fetal monitor that the nurse was paying no attention to, and 2) hopefully the new room would be cooler than the sauna like room I was in. 

It was then that I found out that Hospitals (or nurses who run them) have rules to make their lives easier.  The rule in this case was that no room change could be done until 11 p.m. when the nurses changed shifts.  As I was beginning to stink from sweating in the sauna like room I was in, I told the nurse that I wanted to go ahead and take a shower while I waited for my room change.  This did not make sense to my nurse.  After further discussion, it was apparent that what made no sense to her was having to change my bed sheets when I’d just be moving to another room in 30 minutes. 

She left and when she came back she caught me in the middle of one of my many crying episodes about Molly.  As I was wiping my tears away, her attitude about the shower and bed change changed.  Stupid Bitch, but hey, it worked for me.  I got my shower in the communal shower in Labor and Delivery, did not get the bed change (but who cares? It my dirt anyway), but did get the room change – at midnight after I had fallen asleep on my dirty sheets. 

After wheeling me over to the high risk section, I was none too pleased to see that I now had a roommate after being told I would be in a single room.  I raised a weak protest but not much could be done since the reason they were doubling up was because that section in the Hospital was filled.  Dr. Delight had been a busy beaver that day admitting her high risk patients. 

Labor and Delivery

To say that my day started off shitty was true both figuratively and literally.  Since I’ve been pregnant, I’ve suffered from relentless constipation.  I’ve attacked it with water, All Bran Bran Buds, apples, and Colace – such are the weapons in my simple arsenal. 

So, Tuesday morning, as I was bathing, I thought I had to pass wind, when instead, a small turd escaped from my ass – yes – a turd, floating in my bath water.  So much for that bath.  When I went to wipe after evacuating my stubborn bowels, I noticed a 2 inch strand of thick mucus on the toilet paper.  This was actually the second time since Sunday morning that I noticed this. 

So I made a mental note to call my doctor that day.  After all, it was 1 of the 8 things on the list of warning signs for pre-term labor.  Of course, I thought it was nothing since I did not have any cramping or contractions.  But, knowing that I was heading into the 3-day Memorial Day holiday weekend, and not wanting to be faced with having to deal with the on-call resident in the ER – I called my doctor’s office and left a message for the nurse to call me back. 

In the meantime, I was struggling with the issue of whether or not to attend the funeral of the mother of the Partner-in-Charge.  In Judaism, some people think it is bad luck for a pregnant woman to attend a funeral.  Some people also think that is a silly superstition.  So, I could risk tempting the evil eye or risk offending the Partner-in-Charge.  What’s a girl to do?

But, as usual, its never the one thing you worry about most that ends up doing you in.  It’s the thing that you under estimate that ends up hitting you from left field. 

I went to lunch with the other associates from the firm to treat the new summer intern.  This intern was no ordinary intern, but the son of the real estate developer from whom I derive 85% of my work.  During this lunch, another female associate (my “First Time We Tried” nemesis – who btw is pregnant again – by accident!!!!) remarked how she was just waiting to see when I would be pulled out of work b/c of my delicate condition.  She was to find out very soon. 

The nurse at my doctor’s office finally called me back and we discussed this “mucus”.  She concluded that b/c the mucus was not brownish or tinged with blood, it was probably nothing.  She called me back, however, after conferring w/Dr. Delight and told me that Dr. Delight wanted me to come in that afternoon.  Dr. Delight said “what the nurse described to me sounded so much like your mucus plug I think we need to check to make sure its not”.  Checking involved a very uncomfortable pelvic exam to see if my cervix was dilated.  It was not – phew… Then she did an ultrasound to assess my cervical length. 

At 18 weeks, I had a cervical length of 4.6 cm; very good the nurse remarked.  Now, at 25 weeks 4 days, it was 1 cm; normal is 3-4 cm.  Dr. Delight had me admitted to the hospital and put on immediate bed  rest.  I was given a steroid shot to mature up the babies lungs.  Dr. Delight told me that our goal was for me not to deliver before 28 weeks.  If I could make it to 30 weeks, she’d consider discharging me to bed rest at home. 

Suddenly, my whole world was flipped on its head.  The list of things that “HAD” to be done before the babies arrived – out the window.  Now the only thing that “HAD” to be done was to keep the babies from coming too early. 

Now you see what I mean about the things you worry about? Those things are never the things that throw you off the beam.  Well, almost never. 

Amazingly, I decided that I could deal with this with the same single minded focus that I did with my fertility treatment.  Bed rest was now Job 1 and nothing else mattered.  With one heartbreaking exception – Molly. 

Molly, our 12 year old basset hound was diagnosed with a tumor on her heart about 8 weeks ago.  The vet thinks that she has a Hemangiosarcoma and surgery or chemo would not extend the length or quality of her life.  We have been treating her heart failure with a diuretic, ace inhibitor and beta blocker.  She actually rebounded after a few weeks on medication as if she was not sick at all.  But lately, her appetite was getting worse and worse, until she basically refused to eat at all.  My husband kept making and canceling appointments to have her euthanized b/c she seemed to still eke out some enjoyment from her life – a bark here, a tail wag there.  But with each passing  day, we know we are getting closer to the end. 

Now, with me in the hospital, I knew that she would not be alive when I  got home and I wouldn’t get to say goodbye. 

I spent the night in labor and delivery hooked up to a monitor.  B/c the babies are so small (A: 1 lb. 15 oz., B: 2 lbs. 3 oz.), they have a lot of room to move around and would not stay on monitor.  The nurse, who was new and still cared about patients, spent the entire night re-adjusting the monitors.  At one point, Baby A’s heartbeat dropped into the 60’s for 2 minutes and the

Calvary

was called in.  Baby A’s heartbeat returned to normal quickly. 

I got about 4 hours sleep that night.

So what can I do for you?

Finally, Wednesday, August 18, 2004 arrives w/o much fanfare. I could not sleep the night before since I had recently recovered from a heart attack on Tuesday morning and was anticipating my appointment with Dr. Harvard @ 9:30 a.m. I awoke to the sound of my husband’s blaring alarm clock (circa 1987) that now sounds more like a fire alarm instead of an alarm clock b/c it has been “dropped” so many times. It does not beep; it just SCREAMS like the blast of an uninterrupted car horn.

I actually set the alarm for 7:00 a.m. b/c I was going to need a good breakfast to start my day. One hour later, 8:00 a.m., I finally ended the 9-minute snooze alarm interval torture for me and my still groggy cat bed partners.

So I had a critical choice to make: (1) eat breakfast and be late, or (2) do not eat breakfast, face RE on empty stomach and 6 hours sleep (or 5 + six 9 minute intervals), but be on time. I opted for option “(2)”. Dr. Harvard and I were clearly not on the same wave length though b/c I came to believe that he’d chosen option “(1)” as in be late and keep patient waiting as I sat there at 10:10 a.m. regretting my earlier decision.

I was finally escorted into Dr. Harvard’s office and he appeared truly confused as to why I was there. He actually asked me “So what can I do for you?” "Well, not much" I was thinking..."ahh get me pregnant with a health baby maybe? that would be a start" Instead, I explained to him that I was here for my preliminary donor egg IVF appointment as the nurse who answered the phone 2 weeks earlier told me I would have to make. He responded by saying that that was not necessary. Great.

It turned out to be very informative though b/c I had more questions about what to expect and we went through Ms. California’s donor profile. As my husband suspected, Dr. No advised me to pass on her. Dr. No will live on forever in infamy in my husband’s mind.

As you can tell, Dr. No and his staff have some communication problems. It was a good thing that I met with his nurse afterward to go over some details b/c apparently, you have to get on the “list” go do IVF with Dr. Harvard, and the earliest time he could schedule me for an embryo transfer w/b the week of Dec. 5, 2004.

Isn’t that how life always works out? (Mine any way). The one thing you worry about is NEVER the thing that ends up fucking you: i.e. see the car coming at you head on? Watch Out! Watch Out! And then you get T-boned at the intersection by a car coming from the other direction as the oncoming car rubbernecks right past you.

I thought the hardest problem would be getting my approved donor screened in time to finish cycling before Thanksgiving. My thinking being that no one will be available to do jack shit btw Thanksgiving and New Years. They aren’t if you are trying to do a real estate closing around year-end (well, that’s not completely true…I am always around leaving voice messages and e-mails to people on vacation).

So I have plenty of time to have my donor screened, whomever she may be. But I have to pick now otherwise I loose my December spot on the “list”. So I got a “fast forward” from my Egg Donor agency, a new batch of 10 profiles w/8 previous donors, and have selected 6 potential donors to submit to Dr. No (alternate personality of Dr. Harvard) on Monday.

Lets see how far I get with this. This whole process is like navigating a minefield. A shout out goes to my cyber friend “K” who’s helped me out by sharing her experience. Thank you.

Stay tuned.