For the Record, I Blame Birth Class

Well, it seems only natural that in response to all the TERRIFYING PRE-TERM LABOR TALK at last week's birth class, my body would choose to go into pre-term labor.

The worry began during my doctors appointment on Friday. My cervix was funneling, and had shortened a bit. I was placed on moderate bedrest until the next appointment two weeks later.

Pregant ladies and their doctors plan, the universe laughs.

Monday morning I began to have contractions at about 6:15, they were coming every four minutes. After a stern lecture on Friday regarding the importance of no longer letting these frequent episodes go, I called and was sent to the hospital. Good thing I didn't ignore it, it took two doses of Brethine, and two doses of Indocine and nearly 12 hours to stop them. I didn't get to leave the hospital until this morning. I am now on complete bedrest and taking oral Brethine around the clock. I'll also receive steroid shots to speed baby boy's lung development in case he makes what seems to be the inevitable early appearance.

I had to see a high risk doctor while in the hospital, and he measured my cervix again, only to find that it has further shrunk to 2.3 cm. Stupid cervix. He and his staff weren't all that impressed with my case, to my immense relief. I guess that my uterine anomaly isn't that terribly exciting, compared to some of the things they see, and I am past 28 weeks. That is like 45 weeks in high risk world, apparently. I wanted to kiss him when he said they wouldn't try mag sulfate at any time during this hospital stay. That stuff scares me.

The forseeable future includes alot of lying around, weekly doctor visits, and the ever present countdown clock. The current goal is 30 weeks-which is just nine days from now. Then we try to get to 32, then 34. After 34, all intervention will stop, and baby A will decide how and when he'd like to be born.

I'm feeling calm, despite the fun side effects of Brethine, which makes a gal feel like she's finished three pots of coffee before visiting her friendly neighborhood crystal meth dealer for a little hit, and despite the fact that my boy may be here any day. Let's not even TALK about how hard it is to type while lying on your side, it might be the straw that breaks the camel's back.

Every day we make it, he'll be stronger. Here's to all the days we can get.