a week or so later

So it doesn’t make much sense to start a blog and then not write for a week or so but much has happened since last week. Starting with last Thursday- I had a very discouraging regular check up. My regular doctor and nurse-practioner were gone therefore I had to meet with a nurse-practioner I didn’t know. I asked said woman to aggressively “poke” me during my check which she declined which just caused a chain reaction. I started to cry, she felt the need to tend to my feelings by standing beside me and placing her hands on me. While stroking my back she repeated “this is a very good place to get out these feelings” and “second pregnancies are so much more trying on a mother” I became thoroughly irritated and did my best to shut down any signs of feelings that needed to be addressed. With clenched fists and a suck-it-up attitude I left the clinic deflated.
I had just been told that I would have to wait until week 41 to be induced. That was exactly 3.5 weeks longer than I wanted to be pregnant. I wanted to be done that day. I had done everything I could think of over the weekend prior- I did my husband multiple times though I had no desire to, I walked enough to put my back into a state of spasms, and drank castor oil that did nothing for me other than give me some stomach cramping for a couple hours. I have lived in Mexico a couple times for a month stretch, drinking castor oil does not compete with the pain of eating tacos daily or having all your food prepared in oil and set out in the sun, bugs, and dirt at night to be presented to you in the morning as breakfast.
I made a discrete entrance into work and was happy to not have to explain to my co-workers that no, there was no progress in the opening of my nether-regions. I was called into a conference call and had just enough time to down a latte and a “I-feel-so-sorry-for-myself-scone”. As I sat at my desk and ate my treats I wallowed in the thought of having to sit in my “ergonomic” chair one more week. The chair is obviously not ergonomically built for a prego woman who can not close her legs and must rest her stomach on her lap. I climbed the stairs to the manager’s office while holding my skirt close to my legs so that those below me could not see my green briefs, dreading the hour ahead of me. I did not want to sit an hour in his man smell and listen to the reasons why it is important that we have meetings to plan meetings.
I have no idea what happened in that hour as I couldn’t stop thinking of how ginormous my stomach was, the blazing fluorescent lights (40 minutes into the call, I actually started to shield my eyes), and how when this manager writes- he grinds his teeth which makes his nose click, it is extremely distracting. After the call I made a swift exit, and true to the hour, started on my trek to the bathroom. Upon toilet approach, I felt it possible my water had broken. Sure enough upon inspection of things below I felt I had enough evidence to justify a trip to the hospital to be sure. I did my best to keep my emotions in control and not get my hopes up. However, I called my husband and told him to leave work and meet me at the hospital because I was pretty sure things were going to start.
I made it to hospital and they hooked me up to the monitors to check baby movement, contractions, etc. Then they proceeded to do a few tests to see if it was indeed my amniotic fluid. One of which, I had to direct them to my wet “panties’ at the bottom of my huge metallic lame bag. I would have dug them out myself however, I was attached to a computer at the other side of the room. All of the tests they did came up negative. As I sat there and waited for the doctor to come in I kept thinking, if they give me a pamphlet on The Symptoms of Labor, I am going to throw it at someone. The doctor was a very nice man and totally understood my disappointment. Between the doctor and the nurses it was determined that I was either peeing myself or I was just leaking, both of which I didn’t believe but who am I? Obviously, I am no doctor so I must trust what they say. I was discharged and decided it best that I get pizza.
My husband and I stopped for pizza and as we were eating I had another episode. This time I could see I was “peeing” myself all over the booth at the restaurant we were at. I was horrified. I started to describe to my husband how I can’t possibly walk out of here to which he responded, just get up and leave. Which he proceeded to do, thereby ditching me in my pregnant mess. I continued to “leak” the whole way home. I tried to ignore my symptoms but once I walked into the kitchen and slipped on a pool of fluid that had made its way out of my body I thought, this is ridiculous. I called the clinic and was told to return. I went alone. My husband asks too many questions. Each time something else would change or I had a concern he would ask, “what are they going to tell you at the clinic?” or “what is going on?” to which I would kindly respond “if I knew I wouldn’t need to go there would I?” Some things are just easier to do alone and I didn’t want to be bombarded with questions that I deemed unmanageable.
I decided to take the second trip to the hospital as a gift. It was an evening alone, which meant uninterrupted television for me. They did 2 tests which turned up negative again. The same doctor who discharged me was the one who examined me again this time. He decided to do the sophisticated final exam that they hadn’t done earlier that day. This test required putting some of this leakage on a slide to see how it dried- if it dried in the form of a snow flake, it was indeed amniotic fluid. To my great relief it came back that it was positive. Finally, I had made it to the end of this long pregnancy. It was all going to be over in a matter of hours. Tomorrow, more details. Now I must sleep.
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