Melissesages

So, apparently, this whole “placenta abruption” business is just a little more serious than I thought.

This morning when I woke up, I called my doctor and got her to see me today - it’s amazing what kind of strings the scheduling ladies will pull when you spend the weekend in the hospital. Anyway, I met with her at 10:30, got examined, and we had a long talk about the rest of my pregnancy.

Let me back up a moment to explain the severity of the problem: being born early, really early, is devastating for a baby. Although at this point (29 1/2 weeks), my daughter would most likely be able to survive outside my body, she’d be in critical care for months. When she finally got out of the hospital, she’d have permanent, long-term health problems for the rest of her life: from a mild problem with her respiratory system (ie getting sick a lot), to hearing loss, to something much worse. Though medical technology has advanced (my cousin was born six weeks early 13 years ago, and that was a huge, huge deal, whereas now six weeks isn’t so bad), having a preemie is still to be avoided at all costs.

Because of this, my doctor explained, some women in my condition (meaning: dilated, with one known episode of pre-term labor already) would be advised to spend the rest of the pregnancy in the hospital. Luckily, she didn’t recommend anything that severe for me, but she did recommend that I get disability and take off work - initially she suggested for the rest of pregnancy, but after further discussion we decided on 34 weeks, which is the “safe zone” for labor - after 34 weeks, the baby might still need to be put on a respirator for a little while, but there would be no long-term health problems for her. I do NOT have to be on bed rest anymore, as bed rest hasn’t actually been shown to be beneficial long-term (it’s good for a few days after an experience like this, but not necessarily helpful for weeks at a time).

So. five weeks off work, which would bring me back just in time for the new year. Now, obviously, there’s a part of me that’s thrilled (who wouldn’t be?) at the idea of not going to work every day. But there’s a lot to worry about, too: most importantly, of course, whether or not Tyler and I can afford to live without my paycheck, but also my job. A lot of what I do affects what other people do at the office, so my being out of commission is going to badly affect a lot of people, not to mention disappoint some clients. When I got pregnant I really, really wanted to give pregnant women a good name - proving that women can be just as competent and smart while expecting children as not. I wanted to work exactly as I had been for the entire pregnancy, so nobody ever thought, “Jeez, it’s like she’s totally useless now.” That’s apparently out the window.

There’s also the small matter of my job not really knowing what to do with me - they’ve never had a pregnant employee before, and certainly never one who needed to go on disability. It’s tough getting answers about how the whole thing will work, and things are complicated right now while I wait to hear.

Part of me is excited to be relieved of the stress of my job, and have the time to do things like keep the house clean, finish my book, and prepare for the baby. But another part is really unhappy about being such a pain in the ass all-around. And everyone has the same advice: “Do whatever the doctors tell you, don’t rush it,” etc, but none of them have explained to me how Tyler and I are going to eat this month if I don’t get a paycheck.

But those are, after all, just the details. I have remind myself that the issue here is not me and my job, or lack thereof, but me and my baby. If the doctor says that the best thing for Mattie is for me to be off work for a month, then it shouldn’t really matter how I or anyone at my job feels about that. What matters is figuring out how to make it happen. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself for now.

First of all, I’d like to say thank you to all of those who sent me messages on Facebook, I’ve been pretty bummed out and bored about this whole thing - my “brave soldier” routine ended when I started wanting to climb the walls of my hospital room on Friday - so it’s been nice to see messages. If I haven’t called or written you back, it’s probably because I kind of forgot about it. Sorry!

Today, Sunday, is technically day 3 of bed rest, if you count all day Thursday as being truly sick in the hospital, which I do. (Contractions = very sick). Today has been mostly about sleeping. I didn’t wake up until 10:00, and then I fell asleep again at 11 and didn’t get up until 2. Call it laziness, call it my body needing to rest after the ordeal, whatever. Sleep is good.

Tyler and I took the risk of running out to his brother’s for post-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving dinner. We just basically went in, ate, and left, but my hands were shaking by the time we got home, so maybe bed rest is a good idea. I’m okay with that on a day-to-day basis, but I’m already worrying about the next month or so - I’m supposed to have some out-of-town shoots for work, with clients depending on me, but I’m not supposed to be more than an hour away from my hospital. I had a bunch of stuff going on in December - baby classes, prenatal yoga, a baby shower in Chippewa, etc, and everything is up in the air until I talk to my doctor. I’m not sure they’ll even let me go home for Christmas, which would be devastating - I have never, ever missed Christmas, and I never intend to. But we’ll see.

Meanwhile, I’m getting my quality time on with some good old-fashioned entertainment. As luck would have it, I had gone to the library on Tuesday and checked out a few books, so there’s been plenty to read. Last night Tyler and I rented this werewolf movie, “Dog Soldiers,” which was pretty good. I’m currently watching X2 on television - I forgot how awesome this movie is. When I watch it, though, it tends to make me sad, as I start thinking about what a smelly piece of goat poop X-Men 3 turned out to be. So sad to have a franchise killed by Brett Ratner, especially one that had the potential to be SO GOOD.

In other news, Tyler has been adorable about Christmas shopping in my place. He knows that this is the weekend - well, Black Friday is the day - when I usually complete all of my Christmas shopping, and he’s been trying to make up for me being out of commission by doing the shopping himself. Then he comes home all excited ("Look what I got! Your sister is going to love it!!"), and it makes me smile. He’s still learning the complexities of Christmas shopping in the enormous Olson family, but it’s fun seeing him have a good time with it. I just wish I didn’t have to be stuck on the bench.

Well, the doctor woke me up a little before 8 this morning, and after a quiet night he agreed that I could go home. I’ve got some restrictions - basically, I’m on bed rest until Tuesday when I see my regular doctor - but two hours later, I am HOME. Granted, I’m basically doing exactly the same thing here that I was doing there - reading, watching movies, watching TV - but at least here I have the doggies and better TV and my very extensive movie collection, so yay. AND no more IV’s, no more being woken up for blood pressure checks, etc. It’s a huge relief to be home.

The only thing I’m kind of worried about is Tyler getting sick of me. Sure, right now he’s all, “oh, I don’t mind waiting on you, I’m just glad you’re okay,” but is he still going to feel that way after a few hours of doing the housecleaning by himself? Because not only am I forbidden to do pretty much anything but lay around (seriously, after about four hours, not as much fun as it sounds), but the house is a disaster, the nursery still needs to be painted, we’ve got a bunch of pre-baby projects to get done, and so on. Since my placenta could theoretically detach more at any moment, we’re both under a lot of stress right now, and I just don’t want this new one-sidedness to cause any more of it.

But that’s a problem for later, like, tomorrow. Today I’m just glad to be home, with my own stuff. And incredibly grateful that I keep getting kicked in the stomach.

The facts are these: On Wednesday night, Tyler and I drove from Madison to Chippewa to spend the long weekend with my family. We got in late (wanting to avoid traffic), about 11:45 or so, and went promptly to bed. At 3 AM, I woke up with terrible, terrible stomach pains (later identified as “contractions.") I knew it was way too early for the baby to be born (I’m at 29 weeks, which is a full 11 weeks early, way too much), but at the time i just didn’t know what was happening, so I woke up my mom and Tyler and we drove to Luther Hospital in Eau Claire, to the emergency room.

And thus began the worst 24 hours of the pregnancy thus far (and believe me, with all the morning sickness i had, that’s saying something). They admitted me immediately, but nobody could tell us what was going on for ages, while I was going through horrible stomach pains. By 8 AM on Thanksgiving I’d been hooked up to fetal monitors and an IV (it took them four tries to put the damn thing in, the jerks), had an ultrasound, tried taking muscle relaxants, everything. They finally concluded that yes, I was in premature labor, and no, it was way too early for the baby to be born - technically, she’d have a chance of survival, but the risks were terrible, and she wouldn’t be able to breathe by herself for months, at least. So they just kept trying stuff to stop the contractions. By 2 PM the doctors discovered that I was dialated, and by 3 PM Luther had decided they couldn’t take care of me properly - their preemie clinic can only handle babies that are born at 35 weeks or later. So they gave me a choice of three hospitals with better neonatal care units, and I picked the farthest, but easiest one: Madison.

So…by 3:30 I was drugged on the muscle relaxant, which cause terrible headaches, morphine for the headaches, and God knows what else. They took Tyler and I in an ambulance from Eau Claire to Madison, a trip that I thankfully slept through. And i’ve been here ever since. Right now I’m doing really well - This morning when we woke up they moved me upstairs to one of the recovery rooms, where they bug me a lot less and I don’t have to have an IV or monitors attached to me anymore. I also got to take a shower this morning (!). That’s the good news - the bad news is that they want me to stay here at least through tomorrow, Saturday. I completely missed Thanksgiving with my big family in Chippewa, and i’m not even in the right city for family to visit me. I missed Black Friday shopping with my sister Chris, the one big thing we do together every single year. I missed helping my parents find a Christmas tree, going to a movie with Steph and my dad, playing with Max on my parents’ 11 acres, and everything else I was looking forward to this weekend.

This morning, though, they FINALLY told me what they think was going on. Sometime Wednesday night while I was sleeping (during those THREE HOURS), a little piece of my placenta got detached from my uterus. Placentas detaching completely is BAD, but this was just a little piece. It was enough, though, for my body to start having contractions, which is where the pain came from. The drugs and hospital time helped calm all of that down, but I’m stuck here for observation for awhile. When I do leave, I’m not sure what’s going to happen - they’ll probably put me on at least a couple of days of bed rest, but it could be a lot of bed rest, too. I don’t know. They also may restrict my travel, which would seriously hurt me for both work and family.

I’m really, really glad that the baby’s okay. Seriously. On Wednesday night, when they first hooked up the monitor and I heard her heart beating strong as ever, I cried because I was so happy. It’s way too early for her to come out. And the last couple of days have been horrible, both in terms of stress and physical discomfort (and when I say “discomfort,” I of course mean pain), so I’m glad they’re over, too. But I’m bored out of my mind today, and I’m not thrilled about the potential for tons of bed rest. But I’ll post more news about the baby’s future as I get it.

People pick up weird interests. For example, I have never understood the “art” of scrapbooking. I like looking at photos, but I don’t feel like my experience is all that enhanced if those photos happen to be surrounded by stickers (no offense, Mom. Your stickers are the coolest). Nor do I understand spending hours - hours - arranging such photos and stickers and stamps in artistic ways. Give me TV any day.

But while I don’t understand the fun of scrapbooking (or hunting or competitive eating), I don’t judge, because I like weird things, too. Many people cannot believe how many movies I see in a given year, for example, or why on earth I get up at 4 AM every Black Friday to go shopping. But my newest, and quite possible strangest, interest happens to be tradeshows.

I love tradeshows. Part of it is that I used to work in a tradeshow booth as part of my job, and I have some fond memories of those frantic, diet Mountain Dew-fueled days of chaos. Part of it is memories of concrete tradeshows that I attended with my father as a child (my dad, of course, being a concrete baron). I like the free candy and pens and samples, and the adventure of the whole thing - dodging desperate salespeople from institutes you have no interest in, feigning curiosity about wills and estate planning just to get to the glow-in-the-dark keychains, spinning a giant prize wheel just to try to win a coupon for 15% off a store that’s clear across town anyway. It’s kitschy and more than a little pointless, but someone it’s just fun. And trying to collect as many free pens and chocolate samples and keychains as possible is like a game that costs nothing to play. I even enjoy the tradeshow people, who are like the kinder, more elegant, and slightly pushier carnies.

Now, mind you, I’m not so far gone that I attend every tradeshow that comes along - you won’t see me, say, at the Steel Workers Expo or the Camping and RV show. But if I have a connection, and I’m free that day…I’m totally there. Last February just as we were buying the house, Tyler and I attended a Homeowners Expo, and just today, I brought a friend over to the Alliant Center for the Madison Women’s Expo.

The broader the topic, the more interesting the trade show, in my opinion, and you don’t get much broader than “women things.” The tradeshow had booths for everyone from in-home product sales (Lia Sophia, The Pampered Chef, Longaberger, etc) to Health and Wellness facilities, to spas, to acupuncture, to roofing and window repair, to Panera Bread, and so on. It was awesome.I got a bunch of pens, endless food samples, a coupon for $10 of free gaming at a nearby casino, and a bunch of catalogues and coupons. I heard Debbie Reynolds speak (not by choice, really, but because her ’show’ was in the main exhibit area), resisted about 15 offers for various services, and signed up to win stuff from free spa treatments to a new car. And unlike most tradeshows, this one actually had really decent food - not just the usual day-old cheeseburgers and fries, but booths from Milios and Rocky Roccoco and this whole gormet setup. As tradeshows go, I give the Women’s Expo an A-.

Of course…I will most likely not use any of the coupons, which will float around my coffee table for the next four months before finding a trash can, and I don’t see a bright future (pun intended) for the light up keychain or blinking bike safety light, either. I’ll use the pens, and the rest will clutter the house for awhile until Tyler or I cave and throw it away. But that’s not really the point of the thing, is it? We don’t go to arcades to get the toy prizes, and except for people with a Problem, we don’t go to casinos to get some cash. It’s the fun of the thing, and for $6 entry fee plus parking, you really can’t beat the tradeshow business.

Though I’m sure some people would say the same for scrapbooking.