I should have learned by now that you really can never assume anything in life will go according to plan. No better example than a few weeks ago (at barely 31 weeks) when baby #2 tried to make his arrival nearly 9 weeks too soon. Some unpleasant and mildly worrisome symptoms presented late Thursday, and Friday morning the doctor sent us right to the labor and delivery unit at Hartford hospital. After confirming that I was in fact dilated a few centimeters and having real contractions, the doctor informed me we would have to stay the night at least. This news, when you have a 5 year old at home who wants to wear you like velcro, is not welcomed.
Multiple shots, 4 failed IV attempts with a 5th that finally took, and several oral doses of medication later and it seemed things were quiet. It took pleading at 4am to convince the doctor to send us home on monitoring the following day, and when we finally returned home to our little nugget all felt right again. Of course now there is no more gym, no more laundry, and no more long walks. Every day closer to the 40th week is progress, and even after all this baby #2 may stay put until his actual due date so that's all we are hoping for now.
On the home front, being on modified bed rest is a unique form of torture. Ill be in the midst of some mundane house chore (like spotting a pile of discarded arts and crafts left by precious Tucker, and insisting every last scrap be cleaned up right this minute) when contractions ensue and I'm reminded I'm not fit to do anything. Or while attempting to make my usual mashed maple sweet potato dish for Thanksgiving, and after discovering more than half the potatoes are rotten, I am too winded to start over and the whole thing gets tossed (not to mention I cant really even drive to the store alone). Patience are in a shorter supply than the new Chloe bag at Barneys, and everyone is trampling mine.
A saving grace has been the ladies in the book club I joined this summer, made up of women in my little neighborhood, who upon hearing of my ordeal came together with a meal drop off schedule and bring homemade dishes (or amazing take out!) to our house twice a week. As a friend from home reminded me, we're not on Long Island anymore! I cant quite thank them enough so I'm hoping a round of margaritas when I can get a normal pair of pants on this winter will do. Speaking of pants, its been weeks since I had on anything but leggings or pajamas.
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