Right now I live between two worlds.
I am in many ways a mother, yet I do not have my baby to hold.
I still technically own a home, but I no longer really live there. I am straddling two housing situations both very much in the midst of chaos.
I am also flirting with the lines of a couple medical situations. Instead of co-ordinating moving tasks as planned, I’ve spent basically the entire holiday weekend in the hospital riding the edges of a preeclampsia diagnosis. I’ve had perfect (even low at one point) blood pressure my whole pregnancy, but Thursday night I started to feel off, and noticed some intense swelling in my hands, feet, and face. A little concerned, I checked my BP at home and I started seeing some troubling numbers. It was already after hours on a holiday weekend so I called the birthing center, reported what was going on and was encouraged to keep a close eye on it and to take it very easy. I did just that Friday, but the numbers were headed in the wrong direction. When I called with an update, I was ordered to come in. After a couple hours hospital bed rest on my left side, my numbers were back down near normal and a preliminary urine test was only slightly elevated. They sent me home with strict instructions for bed rest, jugs to collect my urine for 24 hours, instructions to come back if anything got worse and a warning to prepare for a possible Monday c-section. By mid-afternoon Saturday I’d deteriorated significantly, despite spending the entire day resting or asleep, so I was directed to come back to the birthing center this time to stay. For the second time, I was told to prepare for a c-section in the morning if my urine numbers came back high and my blood pressure didn’t improve. But true to my medical mystery history, come morning I was 1/2. My urine counts showed way too much protein but my blood pressures had fallen back to textbook perfection, so since baby wasn’t in any distress, I was back to limbo land.
If you’ve tried and failed to get a hold of me this weekend, please forgive me, I’ve been more than a little frustrated and distracted. I wanted this baby to have every day of baking time he needed to be healthy, but have also been weighing that against some possibly scary complications of keeping him in, so it’s been a trying time.
I went to bed last night preparing for another night and morning of life on the borderline, but my very favorite OB just came back and said it’s GO TIME. Looks like I have a reprieve after four days of baby chicken!
So Happy Birthday Magnus! We are so excited to meet to you!