When I was pregnant with Vincent I think some of the people in my life started to doubt that the pregnancy was really high risk. My cervix kept measuring almost 4 cm and other than being "worried" I seemed just fine. Never mind that once I got home from work every day I spent most of my time on the couch.
Anyway, when my water broke at 35 weeks we had our confirmation. There was never any doubt, in anyone's mind, that we would have another cerclage this time and follow the protocol for an IC/high risk pregnancy.
Things were going great until a few weeks ago. I ended up spending a few hours in triage at my hospitals L&D hooked up to the monitors while they watched me have lots of little contractions. The longer I laid there, the more spaced apart they became until they finally stopped. Those lovely contractions were accompanied by a lot of pressure "down there" and lower back pain, so it was nothing to ignore. The OB who was on call did an FfN (they take a swab & it gives a pretty accurate measure of whether or not you will go into labor within the next two weeks or so) and it came back negative so we went home feeling somewhat reassured. We scaled back my activity level for a few days (Mr. C and his folks both helped out a lot more with Vincent) and I stopped going to work. I settled in to a new routine, with Vincent and I at home every day.
Then, last Wednesday, we went for an ultrasound and found out that my cervix is measuring 3.1 cm. Some women would cheer at that measurement, but my cervix only got down to 3.5 at 31 weeks with Vincent and that was the last time they measured. So it scared us all. Now we have a lovely woman here during the days to help with Vincent and she takes care of the housework, too. And I am trying to stay positive.
I saw my Dr yesterday and he reinforced what we had decided on our own--modified bed rest. Which, according to him, means that I am to do as little as possible. Really, the only way that I could do total bed rest (I don't mean the hospital kind, which I've done, where you can't even get up to pee and they put those inflating boots on you to prevent blood clots) would be if I had someone watching Vincent all day. My lovely helper is here from 9 until 3:30 and that leaves a lot of hours in the day. He is content to crawl up on the couch with me for a short amount of time and then it's back to "show me," as he grabs my hand to take me to show me his toys or take me to another room.
Yesterday was the 28 week milestone, or the bronze medal, as my Dr calls it. He says 31 weeks is silver and 34 weeks is gold. I am filled with so many conflicting emotions and just feel so tired. It's odd, being on bed rest I would think I'd be, well, rested. But instead I feel worn out and have insomnia. Vincent woke up three times last night then ended up in bed with us until he woke up for good a full four hours earlier than I am used to. I've tried to sleep today but to no avail.
I know I need to look on the bright side. And I do. 28 weeks is fantastic and she is healthy and strong, I can tell. Girls do much better than boys when they are premature, so there's that, too. And Vincent is happy and we have someone so amazing here helping us. And even though we really don't need one more expense (still paying off bills from the last pregnancy!) we'd rather pay to have someone here than to have a long NICU stay. I could go on...
I could also vent about all of the not so bright thoughts I've been having, but I'll continue to keep them to myself. At least for now. Last time we had one goal: Live Baby. This pregnancy after a loss thing is not any easier the second time around. It's hard in different ways, but, like grief, it can't be measured quantitatively. It is hard. And I really think this is the last time we'll do it. That realization was painful at first, but it is becoming more and more sure to me (us). It makes me sad, though. I saw us as a bigger family.
OK, now that I got myself crying I suppose I should stop writing.