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14 April 2011
Last week, I started a series of posts revisiting the dramatic events that led up to Speedy's birth. These last few posts have been really hard to write. Obviously everything worked out since Speedy just celebrated his fourth birthday, so in honor of that milestone... let's get to it:
Part 3: Scare Tactics
"Finally!" I screamed as I let the phone ring just long enough for the caller ID to display the doctor's office name and number.
"Hello?" I said innocently, trying not to seem as if I had been anxiously sitting by the phone for seven hours.
"Hi Ivy, it's Dr. Tony. How are you tonight?" he said in his usual calm, laid-back tone.
I wanted to say, "Of course, it's you Dr. Tony! Who else would it be? Why would you make a hormonal pregnant lady wait this long when there could be something wrong with the baby?" But instead, I held back the crazy and just said, "Ask me that after you tell me what's going on, doc."
"Well, I wanted to wait until I was done all my other calls before I called you," he said. "Will is measuring pretty small. It seems like he's stopped growing inside you."
"Stopped growing? How is that even possible?" I asked.
"Well..." he said with some hesitation in his voice. "The way these ultrasounds work is there is a window on either side of what's measured on the ultrasound. He's measuring about five and half pounds, it could be off a pound in either direction. It's the pound under that concerns me. So we need to get him out so he can thrive."
After a short, awkward pause, he said, "You know, sometimes these things happen."
Sometimes these things happen. Was that supposed to make me feel better? The phone started shaking in my hand as I sat in silence, wondering what to make of all this.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"I don't really know, doc," I answered.
I was given orders to relax and enjoy my weekend. Bright and early on Monday morning, I was going to be induced bright and early Monday morning.
"We need to get this baby out, but there is no reason to do it over the holiday. That should at least tell you that I'm not too worried," Dr. Tony said, trying to lighten the mood.
As I hung up the phone, I wasn't sure whether or not to be worried. Something just didn't add up in mind, and now I was dissecting every word and action of the moment. Why would Dr. Tony make a point to tell me he wanted to save my call for last? Why wasn't my baby growing? How long has it been since he stopped growing? Why didn't I ask Dr. Tony any of these questions?
I immediately called back, only to get the answering machine instructing me to call the on-call nurse. What was she going to say? I knew she couldn't help. She didn't know me. She didn't see the ultrasound. She didn't talk to the doctor.
So I decided to call my husband and tell him the news about Monday. He told me to get some sleep and call if he needed anything and he would be right over. I had been up for over 34 hours at that point. Sweet-D and I had stayed up all night watching a Lost marathon. The plan was to get some sleep after my early doctor's appointment, but that didn't happen.
And now I was sick to my stomach with nerves. The phone call came, but I still knew nothing. A day full of waiting, turned into a weekend ahead of more waiting.
As I headed to the bedroom, I grabbed the fetal heart monitor I received as a baby shower gift.
"Maybe if I can hear the heartbeat, I will calm down enough to get some sleep," I thought to myself.
I laid down on the bed and searched for my son's swift heartbeat.
"Duh-dut. Duh-dut. Duh-dut."
All I could find was my own. I shouldn't have been surprised, I had never been able to find it before. So I decided to try to get the baby to move.
"Come on son," I said as I pushed around my belly. "Just give momma a little kick, I just need to know you're okay."
Nothing.
So I laid down, only minutes later having to roll out of bed to throw up.
"Another sleepless night," I thought to myself as I laid back down. My beagle, Lexi, jumped onto the bed. As she laid her head on my stomach, I reminded myself that I had heard the heartbeat today and saw a little movement on the ultrasound.
I turned the television on, only minutes later to be back up and sick again.
A few minutes later, sick again.
The pattern continued every few minutes. Finally, out of shear exhaustion, I called my husband to come back from his best friend's house to help me. After about a half hour, he said, "Honey, I think we need to go to the hospital."
"No, I'm just worked up," I answered. "The doctor said the baby would be fine through the weekend."
He held me close as I tried once again to get some sleep. It was now midnight. Two full days without sleep.
Fifteen minutes later and three more rounds of sickness, my husband said, "Sweetie, you've been getting sick every five minutes for the last two hours. I think the doctor scared you in labor."
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Comments
I'm all nervous now.
:)
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