All Shook Up

The future niece or nephew of my brother Matt gave us a little (and by little, I mean heart-stopping, totally terrifying) scare today.

There was spotting, with some cramping going on, followed by… clotting. I was due for my 12-week check up this week, but when I called my doctor’s office, I was urged to come right in, right now.

We were seen not terribly long after we got there, first by the ultrasound tech, and then by the physician’s assistant. The ultrasound tech was wonderful, and didn’t seem at all put off by the heaving sobs of relief that followed her telling us all was well. She showed us the baby’s brain, and the wiggling arms and legs. She stopped for a minute to let me focus on the beating, blinking heart. I especially appreciated that. She could, however, see that the back wall of my uterus was contracting- which she explained, in sunny, reassuring tones- is not normal. She was so calm, cool and collected that she managed to avert setting off my dame doom alarm. No small feat.

After the ultrasound, we waited a bit, and then saw Peggy, the P.A. Peggy and I have spent a lot of time together during this pregnancy. I had to go into the office three times a week for the first three weeks for blood work to make sure that all my levels were rising appropriately. She has been infinitely patient and kind while I’ve flailed around ungracefully, questioning every little thing that has happened, acting like, you know, that patient. I was glad to see her. She talked a little bit about why the spotting could be happening- hematoma, polyp, the barometric pressure, dissatisfaction with the future of Social Security. (Not really.)

The bottom line? I have to go back next week to have my cervix measured. If it has shortened, I’ll receive a cerclage and be placed on bed rest. When Peggy said “bed rest,” I said, “You mean all day? Bed rest for the whole day?” She nodded her head. Do you see what I’m saying about the infinite patience? I mean, has there been a stupider series of questions?

I drove home thinking, HAAAAH. BED REST. HAAAAH, HAAAAH. Who gets put on bed rest at 13 weeks?

Never a dull moment, around here. Although I probably shouldn’t speak too soon, there may be plenty of time for dull moments in the next 27 weeks. Of course those dull moments will be interspersed with weekly gin games between yours truly and my brother Matt. WHETHER HE LIKES IT OR NOT.