Let's Try That Again: Good News & Not-Bad News

Apologies, everybody. Yesterday’s post was done on my iPad with a fried brain. Not that today is much better, but I have a proper keyboard with which to plunk out my thoughts. I will do my best to expound further on yesterday morning’s adventures, and follow up with the evening’s shenanigans.

Sunday evening I had a little bit of what’s called “bloody show.” For those of you who are unfamiliar with this rather gruesome portion of pregnancy, it’s a little bit of blood that comes out a little before, sometimes with, and sometimes after the mucus plug falls out. Yes, you read that right. There’s a plug in the cervix that’s made out of mucus. Its job is to hold everything nice and watertight while the baby grows. During the third trimester, it falls out; sometimes in one nasty swoop; other times in barely noticeable bits and pieces. This can happen weeks or even a month before labor begins.

Yesterday morning the bloody show was still there, but with more liquid than I’m used to. Not urine, ladies and gents, but a clear liquid that for me, brings back a vivid sense-memory of birth and delivery. So of course my foggy brain went, “my water must have ruptured up high again, and Tempest must be sealing it off, just like Pooka did. I was also having irregular but really intense contractions. I had an appointment scheduled anyway, so I decided to wait until I saw Dr. Firstname to mention it. He did a pelvic exam, along with my scheduled Group B Strep test (checking my bits for bacteria that could be harmful to the baby during delivery) and concluded that it probably wasn’t amniotic fluid (my water) but that I should keep an eye on it. Doctor’s orders were that if the leak persisted, I should go back up tomorrow – meaning today – and if it got worse, I should head back up to the Big Hospital that evening to be tested again, and if the leak turned out to be amniotic fluid, they’d induce labor.

Well, boys and girls, I wound up with a couple of good gushes around 5:30-6:00 last night, while standing in the kitchen. Hubs was making dinner already, and since it was clearly NOT the tsunami of membranes actually rupturing, we decided to relax, let my comfy labor clothes finish their turn in the dryer and have dinner before we drove up.

Upon arrival, I was informed by the lovely Young Nurse that I can indeed wear an oversized shirt rather than the scratchy, uncomfortable gowns they give people to wear at the hospital. This, I think, is EXCELLENT news. Hubs and his “theoretical lawyer” (aka. his best friend, with whom he was texting while we waited), declared a binding verbal agreement that if I give birth in his tee shirt, I can keep it; he’ll never wear it again. I’m okay with this. His tee shirts are soft and comfortable. Anyway, I got hooked up to the baby and contraction monitor and waited for doctors to come poke and prod me.

Several residents in the Big Hospital’s Birthing Center gave me the same pelvic exam – insert speculum, swab with nitrizine strips to test for the presence of amniotic fluid, make patient cough really hard and see if liquid eeks out. The residents concluded that it was definitely not amniotic fluid coming out of me, but that sometimes women at this stage of pregnancy can often times wind up with very damp discharge, and that given that the level of amniotic fluid measured around Tempest at this morning’s ultrasound, along with his steady, healthy heart rate and regular movement (he kept kicking the monitor paddle while I was being watched in the Birthing Center), they didn’t see a need to induce labor.

Oh, right! The ultrasound this morning! Tempest has turned on his own and as of yesterday morning was definitively head-down. He’s measuring in the 80-90^th percentile for his gestational age at 7 pounds, 8 ounces. The ultrasound tech and I made a bet to see how much he had grown. He said 7 pounds even. I said 7 and a half. I won. So at a month prior to his due date, he’s already bigger than his older sister was at birth. The doctors have mentioned, several times, that they should probably measure my pelvis to make sure he can get through. I keep reminding them: Pooka was 8 pounds, 10 ounces, and the circumference of her head was 13.5 inches. I pushed her out with nothing more than an episiotomy. I can fit this little dude. I.F. is overall quite pleased with things thus far, and was about ready to jump up and down at the news that Tempest is head-down now. Neither of us are terribly excited at the prospect of c-section.

I’ll admit, I was a little excited about the idea of having Tempest last night, but in thinking about it: I’m really sort of set on trying to do this without being induced. Had it happened last night, I would have had to be induced. Nicht ser gut.

We got home around 1:00 this morning, and then I woke up about every hour with contractions and having to pee, so as the internet meme says, “I cannot brain today. I have the dumb.” On the upside, contractions are back to being quite mild and other than a little discomfort when trying to stand up from a sitting or prone position, I’m pretty comfortable.

I think that’s all about which I have to ramble for today, so unless something spectacular happens between now and my next appointment: Stay tuned for more “ADVENTURES IN SURROGACY!”