Ready or not…
Our daughter was born 12 weeks early at 1 pound 15 ounces.
I’ve had burgers bigger than that.
I’m not sure how this post as a whole will come together. I’ve decided to write it in parts. I’m not sure of the pace or structure. I’m only sure of the intent. I hope you stick it out with me.
I’ve been to every doctor appointment since finding out we were expecting. I just felt I needed to be there. In those appointments, I’ve gotten to be in the room for an awkward Pap smear. Awkward (for me) conversation involving stretching and comfortable positions for the next 9 months. Ahem. For some reason though, I didn’t think I would go to appointment #7. We were at the point where there wasn’t much going on. It became a “check vitals, doctor asking about diet and pain, I’ll see you in two weeks” kind of thing. Pretty standard procedure. I left for work on September 5th, telling her I would probably skip this one. She agreed and said it was no big deal. No ultrasound, she understood.
The appointment was at 11:30am and around 10am I texted her and told her that I had decided to go. No real reason other than I had gone to all of them. I kind of liked the streak and the bonus points. In appointments past, I would pick her up since she works really close to the hospital. I asked her if we could just meet at the hospital this time, that I needed to get back to a busy work day. She agreed. I was on my way around 11am and texted her again, telling her I’ve decided to pick her up. Again, it’s what we do.
We get to the appointment and our nurse is the best. She’s funny, always making us laugh. A great personality that always made visits enjoyable. Court needed to go to the bathroom and did as I went and sat down in the room. She came in and we talked about nothing. Everything was normal like it had been many times before. Then it became not so normal until it became terrifying.
About ten minutes later our nurse walks in and in the calmest voice, which was very unusual for her, said, “I don’t want to alarm you, but we may be checking you into the hospital right now.”
Ton of bricks for two please?
The nurse explained that this is being done right now so that they can get her blood pressure back under control so that preeclampsia won’t become a big factor.
My wife immediately starts blaming herself. Crying. Going through the whole “I should have done this, I’ve should have done that” thing. All I’m thinking is 28 weeks. 28 weeks.
Our nurse leaves and the doctor comes in. She’s pretty much a no nonsense kind of doctor. Fast forwarding just a bit when my wife was needing to stay a few extra days in the hospital due to her blood pressure, our doctor literally said, “well, your body just needs to get its shit together.” Who doesn’t love that doctor? Anyway, she comes in and basically says we need to get to the hospital and get Court on a monitor, get her blood pressure back to normal so that we won’t have to deliver this baby this weekend.
I don’t think I processed what she said. All I knew was that we were at 28 weeks. I wasn’t hearing what was being said. I had a Champ Kind moment.
“No…It’s the pancake breakfast. We do it every month.”
I just kept thinking it was impossible. We still have 12 weeks left. We will go and get her blood pressure down, see an ultrasound to show that the baby is hanging out all healthy and will be home that night.
One interesting fact. Our doctor set this particular appointment up a week early because she was going on vacation the afternoon of the 5th. We weren’t even suppose to be there for that appointment. This normal appointment where I wasn’t going to pick her up or even show up for.
Now we are checking into the hospital for a possible emergency delivery. And a pair of the widest eyes ever known to man.
Next post: High Risk