…last night that my Dr told me that the only way to keep the baby was to eat more chocolate. That chocolate secrets a chemical that binds the placenta to the uterus. So to “save” the baby, I’d need to up my intake.
Odd dream.
I also dreamt the hospital was floating over the ocean. I dream I’m in a house over the ocean every time something big is going on. Like when I bought my house, I dreamt I could look under the rug in my bedroom and see water splashing pier pilings. Last night I dreamt my purse and all my stuff floated out to sea and if I rolled over in bed I’d land in the water.
I don’t particularly care for either the ocean, or chocolate.
I’ll be posting an advertisement today for a new subconscious.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Thursday, February 22, 2007
And so I ask myself, how did I get ths way?
Our pregnancy has been both difficult and high risk since conception. No one knows why. It’s possible I had issues pre and we never looked b/c I was never “trying”.
So – the long, why I am here - excepted from diary...
I felt great until week 6, and then I had bright bleeding (more then light spotting). After having had a miscarriage in 2003, I resigned myself to the “what will be, will be” thought process. And of course after my Dr.’s nurse (of whom I was NOT a big fan, I confess) also gave me the “Its nature’s way of dispelling a bad pregnancy” pep talk. (Rest assured, I’ve been with this practice for 11 to 12 years so this is not my pregnancy dislike of said nurse, but a long standing growing dislike…I’m sorry to say.) Anyway, the spotting happened a few hours after intercourse so we thought “hmm, maybe we shouldn’t…???” We go to the Dr, they confirm the pg. My doctor suggests a single week of rest – couch rest, she says, not necessarily bed but to lay low and no exercise save for walking. So that’s what we do. We are still careful. She says it’s not b/c of the s*x but we decide to avoid it anyway. Then I start to experience the Worst Morning Sickness Ever – lasts all day until about week 12 but I digress…
After every assurance that we could have s*x, 3 weeks later, we carefully try again – week 10. The next day, about 14 hours later, I’m speed walking (b/c stupid babycenter.com makes you feel like a moose if you are not doing Pilates while eating flax and bananas) – and I’m rounding my second mile when WHOOSH, I start pouring blood. Down my legs, saturating bleeding. Off to the ER. I’m not at my “good” hospital but the local “let me fix your broken arm” hospital instead. They are surprised to find the baby on the U/S. I’m told we possibly had a second pg, a twin, owing to the amount of blood and that I have some blood clots still that should resolve. My dr requests I be transferred by ambulance to the “good” hospital and they essentially tell me the same. My cervix is closed, so go home, couch/bed rest 2 weeks. Home I go, rest two weeks. At this point, I can’t fall in love with the baby. I’m having nightmares every night, I wake up panic stricken, I feel moisture, think its blood. I can’t sleep, I cry at night. I hate being pregnant, I hate not being able to feel good. Of course we have the mildest fall on record and im too sick, and too immobile to enjoy it. Argh!
So we wait. 3 more weeks. We go to the Dr on Nov 27 – and have our first “big” ultrasound. We are week 13, and all is good. Wow! So we start to feel safe. We are past the first trimester and ON OUR WAY! That Friday night we go away with friends to celebrate. I’m just beginning a bump and we are on our first date in over 5 weeks. Very happy romantic time. There are candles, and twinkly lights – it’s Dec in New England and we are in this gorgeous restaurant having a 3 hour dinner. We are SO in love. We go back to the house to sleep, and wake up the next day and just hold each, happy, "in the predawn light". The drs have all assured us that this is ok, that we are totally safe. I stand up to go to the bathroom - and blood is pouring again. I can barely make it to the bathroom. Then we start losing chunks of tissue. 40 minutes to closest hospital. I have now bled through my pants and the towel. ER again. Collection hat in bathroom. There we lose about a hands width of tissue plus. The ER nurse is fairly certain it’s a miscarriage and she holds the tissue for analysis. Back to U/S. Hey! The baby is still there. My placenta is pulled from the side of the uterine wall and huge clots are formed behind it. we have two areas of separation and it looks iffy. We are given the bedrest talk, along with the “50% chance” talk. The Dr won’t make eye contact. More crying. That’s Dec 2. I stay on the couch until Dec 18 or so. I hate the baby at this point b/c im sure its not going to live. Crying of course b/c I can’t do Christmas for my nieces and nephews, b/c we don’t have a tree, b/c it’s Doug (my fiancés ) birthday and I can’t bake him a cake. Crying b/c I’m offered contract work at $** an hour that I have to turn down. Crying b/c I spent almost 3 weeks in Nov on the couch and only got to get up a week. Cry cry cry. A month goes by. We are now into January. It’s January 4 and we are back at Dr. My placenta has completely reattached! Wow, it’s a miracle.
But there’s a spot on the heart. So now we have to get an amnio. The directive is to rest again, b/c the placenta separation puts you at higher risk for a miscarriage – that in combo with the amnio. Oh, and by the way, my cervix is a bit short. 2.4. Restricted movement and can I come back in 2 weeks? 2 weeks later, amnio fine- no Downes, but my cervix is shorter still and funneling – it’s 1.6. Take it easy, restricted movement and partial bedrest – sit or lay as much as possible. So I do. Two weeks later it’s .9 still funneling. Total bed rest. We move the furniture downstairs, we hire help…it’s stressful. 2 weeks later - .5. nothing is slowing it down. I have .5 millimeters left before my cervix thins and may dilate. I’m 24 weeks and they hospitalize me.
The baby will not survive if its born. The goal is to get to 32 weeks. Each week carries its own risks. In my drs words, “these next few weeks are critical. If the baby is born, it will be disastrous”. Doug looks it up in ob journals. Theres a a 31% chance of the baby surviving labor and a 90% likelihood of dying by its 85 day after birth. If we can get the baby to 2lbs, it may survive. Maybe. That’s 4 weeks away, with no cervix.
And that was last week. Today we are 25 weeks, and I go to the dr next Friday. I expect by then that my cervix will be gone, and likely dilating. They monitor me for contractions daily, and I expect by the following week, I’ll be upside down in a Trendelenberg bed.
So – the long, why I am here - excepted from diary...
I felt great until week 6, and then I had bright bleeding (more then light spotting). After having had a miscarriage in 2003, I resigned myself to the “what will be, will be” thought process. And of course after my Dr.’s nurse (of whom I was NOT a big fan, I confess) also gave me the “Its nature’s way of dispelling a bad pregnancy” pep talk. (Rest assured, I’ve been with this practice for 11 to 12 years so this is not my pregnancy dislike of said nurse, but a long standing growing dislike…I’m sorry to say.) Anyway, the spotting happened a few hours after intercourse so we thought “hmm, maybe we shouldn’t…???” We go to the Dr, they confirm the pg. My doctor suggests a single week of rest – couch rest, she says, not necessarily bed but to lay low and no exercise save for walking. So that’s what we do. We are still careful. She says it’s not b/c of the s*x but we decide to avoid it anyway. Then I start to experience the Worst Morning Sickness Ever – lasts all day until about week 12 but I digress…
After every assurance that we could have s*x, 3 weeks later, we carefully try again – week 10. The next day, about 14 hours later, I’m speed walking (b/c stupid babycenter.com makes you feel like a moose if you are not doing Pilates while eating flax and bananas) – and I’m rounding my second mile when WHOOSH, I start pouring blood. Down my legs, saturating bleeding. Off to the ER. I’m not at my “good” hospital but the local “let me fix your broken arm” hospital instead. They are surprised to find the baby on the U/S. I’m told we possibly had a second pg, a twin, owing to the amount of blood and that I have some blood clots still that should resolve. My dr requests I be transferred by ambulance to the “good” hospital and they essentially tell me the same. My cervix is closed, so go home, couch/bed rest 2 weeks. Home I go, rest two weeks. At this point, I can’t fall in love with the baby. I’m having nightmares every night, I wake up panic stricken, I feel moisture, think its blood. I can’t sleep, I cry at night. I hate being pregnant, I hate not being able to feel good. Of course we have the mildest fall on record and im too sick, and too immobile to enjoy it. Argh!
So we wait. 3 more weeks. We go to the Dr on Nov 27 – and have our first “big” ultrasound. We are week 13, and all is good. Wow! So we start to feel safe. We are past the first trimester and ON OUR WAY! That Friday night we go away with friends to celebrate. I’m just beginning a bump and we are on our first date in over 5 weeks. Very happy romantic time. There are candles, and twinkly lights – it’s Dec in New England and we are in this gorgeous restaurant having a 3 hour dinner. We are SO in love. We go back to the house to sleep, and wake up the next day and just hold each, happy, "in the predawn light". The drs have all assured us that this is ok, that we are totally safe. I stand up to go to the bathroom - and blood is pouring again. I can barely make it to the bathroom. Then we start losing chunks of tissue. 40 minutes to closest hospital. I have now bled through my pants and the towel. ER again. Collection hat in bathroom. There we lose about a hands width of tissue plus. The ER nurse is fairly certain it’s a miscarriage and she holds the tissue for analysis. Back to U/S. Hey! The baby is still there. My placenta is pulled from the side of the uterine wall and huge clots are formed behind it. we have two areas of separation and it looks iffy. We are given the bedrest talk, along with the “50% chance” talk. The Dr won’t make eye contact. More crying. That’s Dec 2. I stay on the couch until Dec 18 or so. I hate the baby at this point b/c im sure its not going to live. Crying of course b/c I can’t do Christmas for my nieces and nephews, b/c we don’t have a tree, b/c it’s Doug (my fiancés ) birthday and I can’t bake him a cake. Crying b/c I’m offered contract work at $** an hour that I have to turn down. Crying b/c I spent almost 3 weeks in Nov on the couch and only got to get up a week. Cry cry cry. A month goes by. We are now into January. It’s January 4 and we are back at Dr. My placenta has completely reattached! Wow, it’s a miracle.
But there’s a spot on the heart. So now we have to get an amnio. The directive is to rest again, b/c the placenta separation puts you at higher risk for a miscarriage – that in combo with the amnio. Oh, and by the way, my cervix is a bit short. 2.4. Restricted movement and can I come back in 2 weeks? 2 weeks later, amnio fine- no Downes, but my cervix is shorter still and funneling – it’s 1.6. Take it easy, restricted movement and partial bedrest – sit or lay as much as possible. So I do. Two weeks later it’s .9 still funneling. Total bed rest. We move the furniture downstairs, we hire help…it’s stressful. 2 weeks later - .5. nothing is slowing it down. I have .5 millimeters left before my cervix thins and may dilate. I’m 24 weeks and they hospitalize me.
The baby will not survive if its born. The goal is to get to 32 weeks. Each week carries its own risks. In my drs words, “these next few weeks are critical. If the baby is born, it will be disastrous”. Doug looks it up in ob journals. Theres a a 31% chance of the baby surviving labor and a 90% likelihood of dying by its 85 day after birth. If we can get the baby to 2lbs, it may survive. Maybe. That’s 4 weeks away, with no cervix.
And that was last week. Today we are 25 weeks, and I go to the dr next Friday. I expect by then that my cervix will be gone, and likely dilating. They monitor me for contractions daily, and I expect by the following week, I’ll be upside down in a Trendelenberg bed.
Coffee in Bed
There's a stain on my notebook
Where your coffee cup was
And there's ash in the pages
Now I've got myself lost
I was writing to tell you
That my feelings tonight
Are a stain on my notebook
That rings your goodbye
Through no fault of her own, my nurse last night spilled a cup of lukewarm coffee from atop my nightstand.... Down the side of the bed, on the sheets, the floor, the cords, the call button....
After I drank it, I fretted about premature labor, caffeine contractions, whether the beans were shade grown to protect songbirds, whether it was FreeTrade. ... (ok, not the last two. But I WAS worried about Baby Butler. It was decaf, but still...)
regardless, spill it did.
About an hour later, the coffee was still on the floor, and had saturated the side of the bed.
"They are NURSES" I thought "They are busy saving lives. I'm not going to push the red button for clean sheets."
But bedrest or not, I'm still pregnant!!! ...AND IT SMELLED. (It smelled sticky sweet, and not like in an uptempo Def Leppard way but grossly so.)
"I have a headache" I think. "I hate coffee. I'm laying here (lying here in fact, but to be truthful, in my mind I was grammatically incorrectly laying) "I'm laying here in smelly coffee hell. Why won't she come back, why isn't she here, what's going ON??"
So Doug comes in.
me: Hi (sullenly)
Him: Hi
me: Do you smell coffee? (accusingly)
Him: No
me: well, I do (nastily)
Him: Oh
me: It spilled (obviously)
Him: Oh, I'm sorry, do you want me to get you some more coffee?
me: No (petulantly)
Him: oh
me: It spilled and the nurse said she'd call housekeeping and they didn't come and there's coffee all over my bed, and the floor, and I've been here for AN HOUR and it SMELLS and I have a headache and I hate coffee and I don't know why she said she'd come change the sheets when she didn't and now I don't feel good and I'm so mad at her and it smells and I know it shouldn't have been there but I really wanted it and now it's spilled and all I can smell is coffee and it smells. (plaintively)
Him: oh. Do you want me to call the nurse?
Me: No, she said she'd come and I don't want to bother them. (irrationally)
Silence
Him: So what do you want me to do?
me: Make it stop smelling.
I'd love to tell you that I'm graciously reclining in bed like Mary Steenbergen in a Lifetime movie. That I only get angry with pretty non-face puffing tears and that my hair fans across the pillow and my lips are glistening with peach gloss. That we hold hands clasped in prayer for "our little angel" and I receive visitors in a linen white nightshirt with a brave face.
In reality, I watched Doug get on his hands and knees, gangly in his suit, and mop the floor with the worlds tiniest towel, and then do it all over again with antibacterial soap. And then wash the mattress side, change the sheets, and then get dinner. All while I'm hysterical because I feel so guilty (plus he's doing it all wrong)and he's snapping my head off because housekeeping should have handled it, he's hungry, and he really can't smell anything anyway.
It occurs to me that although together, for better or worse, we can handle anything, climb every mountain etc., I can ALSO see why spouses suddenly snap after 40 years and shoot one another.
Where your coffee cup was
And there's ash in the pages
Now I've got myself lost
I was writing to tell you
That my feelings tonight
Are a stain on my notebook
That rings your goodbye
Through no fault of her own, my nurse last night spilled a cup of lukewarm coffee from atop my nightstand.... Down the side of the bed, on the sheets, the floor, the cords, the call button....
After I drank it, I fretted about premature labor, caffeine contractions, whether the beans were shade grown to protect songbirds, whether it was FreeTrade. ... (ok, not the last two. But I WAS worried about Baby Butler. It was decaf, but still...)
regardless, spill it did.
About an hour later, the coffee was still on the floor, and had saturated the side of the bed.
"They are NURSES" I thought "They are busy saving lives. I'm not going to push the red button for clean sheets."
But bedrest or not, I'm still pregnant!!! ...AND IT SMELLED. (It smelled sticky sweet, and not like in an uptempo Def Leppard way but grossly so.)
"I have a headache" I think. "I hate coffee. I'm laying here (lying here in fact, but to be truthful, in my mind I was grammatically incorrectly laying) "I'm laying here in smelly coffee hell. Why won't she come back, why isn't she here, what's going ON??"
So Doug comes in.
me: Hi (sullenly)
Him: Hi
me: Do you smell coffee? (accusingly)
Him: No
me: well, I do (nastily)
Him: Oh
me: It spilled (obviously)
Him: Oh, I'm sorry, do you want me to get you some more coffee?
me: No (petulantly)
Him: oh
me: It spilled and the nurse said she'd call housekeeping and they didn't come and there's coffee all over my bed, and the floor, and I've been here for AN HOUR and it SMELLS and I have a headache and I hate coffee and I don't know why she said she'd come change the sheets when she didn't and now I don't feel good and I'm so mad at her and it smells and I know it shouldn't have been there but I really wanted it and now it's spilled and all I can smell is coffee and it smells. (plaintively)
Him: oh. Do you want me to call the nurse?
Me: No, she said she'd come and I don't want to bother them. (irrationally)
Silence
Him: So what do you want me to do?
me: Make it stop smelling.
I'd love to tell you that I'm graciously reclining in bed like Mary Steenbergen in a Lifetime movie. That I only get angry with pretty non-face puffing tears and that my hair fans across the pillow and my lips are glistening with peach gloss. That we hold hands clasped in prayer for "our little angel" and I receive visitors in a linen white nightshirt with a brave face.
In reality, I watched Doug get on his hands and knees, gangly in his suit, and mop the floor with the worlds tiniest towel, and then do it all over again with antibacterial soap. And then wash the mattress side, change the sheets, and then get dinner. All while I'm hysterical because I feel so guilty (plus he's doing it all wrong)and he's snapping my head off because housekeeping should have handled it, he's hungry, and he really can't smell anything anyway.
It occurs to me that although together, for better or worse, we can handle anything, climb every mountain etc., I can ALSO see why spouses suddenly snap after 40 years and shoot one another.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Bridget & Me
Is it me or has anyone else gone to babycenter.com and tried to pinpoint Bridget Moynihan's date of conception? I get that given my situation I'm probably more interested in her uterus then most men were interested in it's portal but it's compelling right?? I can't be alone in this.
First - I find myself curious. "More then 3 months pregnant"? What does that mean??? More then 3 but less then 4? So is it like 3 months and 1 week? 2 weeks? I'm concerned about her announcing it so early. Even my friends didn't know at three months never mind the world. Given her AMA* I'd be a little more circumspect.
Doesn't she know her cervix could shorten?
She hasn't even had her amnio yet. What if she has chromosomal abnormalities? Frankly, I'd have done the Tory Spelling and waited until month 5 if I were her.
*please note: the beautiful bridget is, in fact, younger then me, I note her age solely b/c my mother, on hearing of Bridget's news cried out "Oh, but shes so much older then him". Harumph.
First - I find myself curious. "More then 3 months pregnant"? What does that mean??? More then 3 but less then 4? So is it like 3 months and 1 week? 2 weeks? I'm concerned about her announcing it so early. Even my friends didn't know at three months never mind the world. Given her AMA* I'd be a little more circumspect.
Doesn't she know her cervix could shorten?
She hasn't even had her amnio yet. What if she has chromosomal abnormalities? Frankly, I'd have done the Tory Spelling and waited until month 5 if I were her.
*please note: the beautiful bridget is, in fact, younger then me, I note her age solely b/c my mother, on hearing of Bridget's news cried out "Oh, but shes so much older then him". Harumph.
Saturday, February 17, 2007
It was nine feet high and six feet wide...
Welcome to My Bed
It was nine feet high and six feet wide
Soft as a downy chick
It was made from the feathers of forty-leven geese
Took a whole bolt of cloth for the tick
Itd hold eight kids n four hound dogs
And a piggy we stole from the shed
We didnt get much sleep but we had a lot of fun
On grandmas feather bed
Ohhhh, welcome to my bed (cue Barry White music)
Arent I sexy with my unwashed hair and my empty container of prune juice?? Aren’t I glowing??
So HELLO! This post is post one. I really wish I had started Day One* b/c already these been some fabulous fodder but unfortunately, I just kept dropping the ball! You’d think with ALL DAY looming in front of me I’d get on the stick. It just goes to show that the exact amount of time you have to do something is truly how long it takes to get it done.
So this post will have to serve as posts retroactively back to Day One. And by Day One, I'm refering to my admittance btw, not the actual conception...which would be an entirely different blog.
It occurs to me, too, that by the time I'm done with my online "diary" I may be friendless. Yepper. You have to understand though that the whole experience is rife with instances that are pretty damn funny and that at one point in time or another, from my perspective, everyone is going to innocently stumble into - what for me - will be a grand opportunity to make a joke. (Or they'll just say something so friggin stupid that the compulsion to repeat it overrides any sense of decency on my part.)
So let me just own in advance my bad behavior. This isn't "Tuesdays with Maurie", I didn't suddenly take to my bed and become more patient. I'm not wearing an angel pin knitting for the mission.
Still me. Still a bitch. Still think I'm funny. But hopefully, that's the beauty of an online blog. It isn't therapy, I don't have to be fair, I don't even have to be reasonable. I only have to be entertaining.
Hell, I may not even spell check.
So read at your own risk. You may see yourself here, thinly disguised or otherwise.
DISCLAIMER:
I hereby acknowledge that it's not nice to make fun of other people. Nor is my glass house reinforced with polycarbonate windows so my exempt status is certainly suspect. I futher acknowledge that karmically I could be soliciting trouble in the form of bad vibes i.e. the power of three returns to me, what goes around...blah blah blah. Please be advised that that is not my intent to hurt or malign anyone. I fully realize that there are a million positive things to discuss and I own freely that I am gratedful for the love and support of so many many people. etc. etc. etc. Michael Row the Boat Ashore etc.
Soft as a downy chick
It was made from the feathers of forty-leven geese
Took a whole bolt of cloth for the tick
Itd hold eight kids n four hound dogs
And a piggy we stole from the shed
We didnt get much sleep but we had a lot of fun
On grandmas feather bed
Ohhhh, welcome to my bed (cue Barry White music)
Arent I sexy with my unwashed hair and my empty container of prune juice?? Aren’t I glowing??
So HELLO! This post is post one. I really wish I had started Day One* b/c already these been some fabulous fodder but unfortunately, I just kept dropping the ball! You’d think with ALL DAY looming in front of me I’d get on the stick. It just goes to show that the exact amount of time you have to do something is truly how long it takes to get it done.
So this post will have to serve as posts retroactively back to Day One. And by Day One, I'm refering to my admittance btw, not the actual conception...which would be an entirely different blog.
It occurs to me, too, that by the time I'm done with my online "diary" I may be friendless. Yepper. You have to understand though that the whole experience is rife with instances that are pretty damn funny and that at one point in time or another, from my perspective, everyone is going to innocently stumble into - what for me - will be a grand opportunity to make a joke. (Or they'll just say something so friggin stupid that the compulsion to repeat it overrides any sense of decency on my part.)
So let me just own in advance my bad behavior. This isn't "Tuesdays with Maurie", I didn't suddenly take to my bed and become more patient. I'm not wearing an angel pin knitting for the mission.
Still me. Still a bitch. Still think I'm funny. But hopefully, that's the beauty of an online blog. It isn't therapy, I don't have to be fair, I don't even have to be reasonable. I only have to be entertaining.
Hell, I may not even spell check.
So read at your own risk. You may see yourself here, thinly disguised or otherwise.
DISCLAIMER:
I hereby acknowledge that it's not nice to make fun of other people. Nor is my glass house reinforced with polycarbonate windows so my exempt status is certainly suspect. I futher acknowledge that karmically I could be soliciting trouble in the form of bad vibes i.e. the power of three returns to me, what goes around...blah blah blah. Please be advised that that is not my intent to hurt or malign anyone. I fully realize that there are a million positive things to discuss and I own freely that I am gratedful for the love and support of so many many people. etc. etc. etc. Michael Row the Boat Ashore etc.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
The Beginning of the Emails...Dr Appt Pre-Update
So Doug and I have a Dr appt tomorrow and we’ve hit 24 weeks. If the Dr also feels we are at 24 weeks (I am charted differently in each office) then we move onto Phase II – which is a weekly Fibronectin* test and an appt with a neonatologist**. They will also give me the most updated measurement of my c*rv*x and which will let us know how well we did these first two weeks of hardcore bedrest.
After the appt tomorrow, Michelle or Doug will be driving me home. B/c of the number of you that are concerned, and the amount of phone calls we make after each appointment, please understand that I may not call you directly. You may get an email update, a call from Michelle, or I may not call you until Friday or Saturday. Traditionally, Doug and I don’t come out of these appts well and generally I need a day or two to readjust to whatever news we get. This appointment will be especially difficult for us because we will be having the Fibronectin* test.
If you do not hear from us, be assured that nothing is ‘seriously” wrong…we may just not feel like talking or feel like translating the information. Michelle and Mellisa both have been doing an amazing job of keeping others apprised of the details and that’s something that I both appreciate, as well as find invaluable. If you hear from one of them it’s because it was easier for me to shorthand the conversation to them – knowing their medical & mommy backgrounds. If you do not hear anything, and you call and we do not pick up, we are just taking time to be alone. If something ever were to happen, or if we had news to share, you would hear sooner.
Thanks and we’ll keep you updated.
If you really want the gory details (dad will not so ignore this part):
**What is a Fibronectin Test:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fetal_fibronectin
http://www.marchofdimes.com/professionals/681_1149.asp
Why are we meeting with, and what is a neonatologist?
http://www.aap.org/pubed/ZZZCIGME8GD.htm?&sub_cat=1
After the appt tomorrow, Michelle or Doug will be driving me home. B/c of the number of you that are concerned, and the amount of phone calls we make after each appointment, please understand that I may not call you directly. You may get an email update, a call from Michelle, or I may not call you until Friday or Saturday. Traditionally, Doug and I don’t come out of these appts well and generally I need a day or two to readjust to whatever news we get. This appointment will be especially difficult for us because we will be having the Fibronectin* test.
If you do not hear from us, be assured that nothing is ‘seriously” wrong…we may just not feel like talking or feel like translating the information. Michelle and Mellisa both have been doing an amazing job of keeping others apprised of the details and that’s something that I both appreciate, as well as find invaluable. If you hear from one of them it’s because it was easier for me to shorthand the conversation to them – knowing their medical & mommy backgrounds. If you do not hear anything, and you call and we do not pick up, we are just taking time to be alone. If something ever were to happen, or if we had news to share, you would hear sooner.
Thanks and we’ll keep you updated.
If you really want the gory details (dad will not so ignore this part):
**What is a Fibronectin Test:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fetal_fibronectin
http://www.marchofdimes.com/professionals/681_1149.asp
Why are we meeting with, and what is a neonatologist?
http://www.aap.org/pubed/ZZZCIGME8GD.htm?&sub_cat=1
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