Unbelievably, this is what my midwife has asked of me. Or rather, what she has asked of my Little Pumpkin.
Let's go back a few days, shall we? Let's go back to Sunday, when I sat through Mass, only to find myself not timing, but definitely counting contractions. There were far too many of them, and I decided immediately that although I long for the Mass, a healthy Pumpkin is top priority at the moment.
Sunday night I had a nightmare that was just...well, nightmarish. It was horrible!
In the dream, we returned home from Mass and I decided to relax in the tub for a while to slow things down. (Coincidentally, I did actually soak in the tub for a bit...) But then (in the dream), my water broke. And it was the color that it would be if the baby were in serious trouble. (Now, for those of you not-so-much in the know, this is perhaps possible at 33 weeks, but not likely, as the baby has yet to ingest the substances which produce this particular color...and that's all I'm going to say about that.)
So of course, I ended up being raced to the hospital, where I was told, "We need to get this baby delivered!" And I said, "Ok, bring on the pitocin." "Nope," they said, "we're going to do a C-section." "Ok," I said (rather disappointed, for Pete's sake...), "then bring on the epidural." "Nope again," I was told, "we're going to put you under."
Now, as horrible as this dream was, I don't remember past that point. I am certain that there was some outcome that was probably troubling, but I apparently couldn't think past the general anesthesia part. See, I would far rather my labor look something like this:
So moving on to Monday...Monday, where--to put it delicately--I had one of the first signs of my dear body beginning to think about labor. It took me by surprise, because even with all of the contracting that I've been doing, I guess I didn't think it was going quite that far. So I called Chris and told her what had happened. She was concerned (but not alarmed), and suggested that perhaps she ought to come and see me on Wednesday rather than wait until Saturday.
Ok. Since Chris does not easily alarm or upset, her even demeanor was calming to me when I most needed it, and I am eternally thankful.
She didn't sound really concerned until Tuesday.
Oh.....Tuesday will spook me for a long while, my friends.
Tuesday was going along swimmingly. Mid-morning found me directing the kids in their various chores--with a visit from Chris on Wednesday and a crew of men coming on Saturday, I wanted to make sure all of the proverbial bases were covered. As I was explaining to the Frog that the carpet needed to be vacuumed, I started feeling a little queasy.
I'll try to go into detail without going into too much detail...but the long and short of it is that I ended up nearly passed out on the floor in front of the loo! I was drenched in cold sweat and completely panicked.
I hollered for the Frog to get Dad on the phone. Bless his heart, My Darling was balm, as usual, and encouraged me to calm down and breathe deeply and keep my head down. He was on his way home--and I pity anyone who chanced to drive anywhere near him, because I tell you, he positively flew. He told me to give the phone back to the Frog, whom he instructed to prepare a snack for Mama, with orange juice and something with potassium (which, as it turned out, was tater tots, because that's what we had). Then he told her to call Dr. H.
With Dr. H. now on the line, the Frog handed me the phone once again. Dr. H. said, "Can you get to the bed? Because if you can't get to the bed, I'm calling 911." I got to the bed. "Get dry," she said, "and get warm. And put the Frog back on the phone."
A mere moment later, I found myself being patted dry and tucked in. The Pickle grabbed my rice pack and nuked it, and then tucked it in up against my back. He grabbed his own rice pack and warmed it up and put it against my feet. Reepicheep was busy spreading out throw blankets over my comforter. Even the Monkey found a job--he was patting my hair, and saying, "Feel better, Mama," in between smooches.
Dr. H. called every 15 minutes over the next hour, and then continued to call throughout the day just to check up on me and make sure I was doing ok.
And when My Darling came in, he called Chris. "Protein," she said. "The woman needs protein. Throw a couple of eggs and some milk in the blender and have her drink it."
My Darling. My wonderful, sweet husband. "How about if I throw a couple of eggs and some milk in a frying pan and scramble them?"
God bless that man.
After a ham and cheese omelet, I was feeling markedly better. The whole thing exhausted me though--I could not believe how tired it made me!
As it turns out, the scourge of our family (my biological family, that is) has come home to roost. Hypoglycemia, which is pretty much opposite of diabetes--too much insulin versus not enough--is now my companion. Chris brought me a glucometer so that I can see how low my sugar is. She suggested a high protein and fiber diet. Complex carbs and fats are ok, but if I want crackers, I have to eat them with cheese or sausage. (Oh, twist my arm!) I am also to take it very easy, as I'm doing now, with trips to the loo being about what I can handle. I can get a glass of ice water from time to time, but household stuff is falling to my family.
Her next statement was what shocked me: "Ok, Little One, you need to stay in there until November 9th. The 16th would be better, but the 9th will do."
Um.............we're not officially due until December 7th. Not one to make promises or predictions, Chris was unwilling to work with me when I was desperate for the Monkey to make his appearance--no tincture, no green light on getting things going, no nothing!--until I reached that magic 40 week mark. But this time, for her to elude to a date four whole weeks before our actual due date....I wonder what she's thinking..........
Our next visit with Chris will be next Friday--Halloween. As long as my Little Pumpkin doesn't want to compete with Charles Schultz's Great Pumpkin, we'll be doing ok..........
Please keep in your prayers all of the precious unborn souls which are lost to the horrors of abortion. May God heal the hearts and souls of those providing and procuring abortions, and especially the hearts and souls of the parents of all those babies who are taken.
Remember in thanksgiving all those who work to end the injustice of abortion.
Please also pray for those babies who are born too soon and suffer for it, for their parents and families, and for those who give them the care that they need.