Oh Baby! (Bed rest)

After my US on Wednesday of last week, I had some more spotting in the morning on Thursday and Friday. It was pretty much the same as Wednesday. It was bright red both days. Thursday it started when I woke up in the morning and stopped shortly after. Friday, I woke up in the middle of the night with some, but it stopped and then started again when I got up in the morning, but that was it for that day. I called on Friday just to inform them and ask at what point I should worry and let them know. The nurse talked it over with the doctor and said she wanted me to go on bed rest for the weekend. She said my doctor wanted to make sure to just stay on top of it and not let it become a problem. I was told to limit my activities to basically going to the bathroom, taking care of my child as needed, and making something to eat.


Miles was home all weekend (plus Monday with the holiday) so he was around to take care of everything - Owen, cleaning, cooking, me and my whininess, etc. I figured it was good they told me to start during a weekend so he could be there to help. Over the weekend, I still had some spotting, but it was different. It was less, and darker (older), brown, blood that I would notice throughout the days. It wasn't really a lot, and I figured it was hopefully a good sign it wasn't all fresh, new, blood. And today, I have not had any spotting at all. I called the office and left a message asking them to discuss and call back.


The weekend was rough for me. I was incredibly bored, and I had a hard time letting go of all control of the household (ie; seeing dishes not get washed immediately, not being able to help with our BBQ with friends on Monday, watching Miles get frustrated at his not-so-relaxing long weekend, etc). I was also pretty bored. I wanted to be out and "available" to Owen so he could sit with me, I could read to him, and he would know I was still there. But that meant I was often just sitting around. Maybe I could get some reading in, but I didn't want to watch my TV shows with him present. And it was so hard to not just get up and do things. It's not like I'm an invalid and totally incapable of caring for myself. It was really hard to sit/lay around. It's crazy, cause I feel like there are times I would have loved to have days like that. And of course once you do, you wish you could do the things you don't want to do (cleaning, organizing, etc). I also could feel the strain on Miles. I know he works really hard during the weeks, getting up a couple hours early to work on side projects before he starts his work days, and often working from home in the evenings too. I know he needs breaks, and instead, he's had to take care of two babies (me being the bigger one). I have not handled this well or graciously. I have been crabby, grumpy, irritable, impatient, and let's just say it - bitchy. I have not liked the person I have been while "relaxing." So I have been dying to hear what they would say regarding any future activity or bed rest. Miles has been saying all weekend, "I have an itching suspicion they're going to say to stay on bed rest." I told him he was crazy because things seemed to be getting better. He said, "Exactly. They're going to look at your case and say, 'IVF pregnancy? Placenta previa? Yeah, let's make sure we do everything possible not to lose this baby.'" I still didn't think he was right.


Back to today. On top of all this, I went to bed last night with some bad acid reflux and a killer headache. I woke up in the middle of the night feeling the same. After tossing and turning, I took some tums (which miraculously helped) and finally fell asleep after a couple hours or so. However, then I woke up this morning with acid reflux, serious nausea, and that awesome headache. I dealt with it for a few hours and then asked Miles to come home. I felt like I was on the verge of throwing up and just wanted to lay down. He came home and took care of Owen while I slept. I got up when Owen went down for his nap and felt much better. I told him to go back to work.


Ok, just a warning...I am seriously so tired of being whiney and grumpy about this whole thing. But before it gets better, it's going to get worse....


Unfortunately within an hour or so of feeling better and eating a piece of bread, I felt awful again. I figured I'd just deal until Miles got home. I still hadn't heard from the doctor's office. I emailed them my questions and bed rest report from the weekend to see if that would get a faster response, and so I wouldn't have to leave a lengthy message. I got a call back pretty fast and the nurse said that she didn't see anything about me being on bed rest. (Uh...ok. Other nurse = bad note taker). She said based on what I was saying, she thought I'd be able to resume regular activity while just being careful, but that she would talk to the doctor. I was pretty happy about that.


She called back a couple hours later and said Dr. Savage had gone to a delivery, but she did talk with her. She said that the doctor wants me to stay on bed rest until I stop bleeding. I reminded her that I had. She said, "Well, she wants you to stay on bed rest at least until your next appointment with her." (Which is in two weeks). She said she wants me to only lift Owen when absolutely necessary, and only get up to go to the bathroom or eat. She tried to empathize and say she knew it would be hard with a 2yo, but that we want to make sure I "take care of the bun in the oven." She said to call if I started bleeding again, or had cramping or what not, and if the office was closed to go to labor and delivery. I said ok.


I got off the phone and called my mom and bawled my eyes out. I'm frustrated because the perinatologist didn't seem that concerned and even mentioned I might spot for a couple days. I'm upset because I feel like things have gotten better and the only way to know for sure it's not just because it would have anyway vs. getting better because of bed rest, is to take me off and see how I do. My mom said, "Well, if you don't want to do it, you don't have to." My response to that was that I'm not qualified to make that decision...to which she agreed. (She was just trying to be the devil. Oops, I mean devil's advocate.) So of course I'm going to do it, but this just makes me feel awful. I worry that two weeks will turn into two months...or longer. I feel like I'm being a bad mom (yes, I know that I'm being a good mom to my baby girl). I hate that I can't play with Owen and take him outside and go swimming with him and build fun memories. It was bad enough being cooped up inside all winter long, but now our summer is getting squashed. But even more than that, I feel like my last moments with him as my only child that can get all of my attention are disappearing. I'm so excited to have another baby join our family, but I'm also sad about how that will change the dynamics between me and Owen. I hate that his brain is becoming mush as I sit him in front of the TV so that he will be happy and occupied and not jumping all over me or requiring me to get up and play with him or do something for him. I hate that it puts added stress on Miles. I hate that all of us are miserable. I know it's not my fault and nothing I can control, but it's really hard to deal with this. And I hate that I'm complaining about something that is so small when there are people who deal with so much more - losing babies, not being able to have babies, disabilities, divorces, deaths...SO.MUCH.MORE. I hate that I'm an emotional basket case probably due to pregnancy hormones...and just because I'm me. I try to buoy myself up and say it's temporary. But then I think about how I kept saying, "It's just the weekend. It's just the weekend. It's just the weekend," and it has now turned into, "Just two more weeks. Just two more weeks. Just two more weeks." I hate that I'm needy. I hate asking Miles for a drink or food or to get a book or whatever stupid, small request I have. I hate that my mom is telling me to call the RS and ask them to help with Owen. I hate that she's probably right and having him out of the house for a couple hours a day would do us both some good. And I hate that I'm so upset about this and that it makes me feel guilty, because I don't want my baby girl to think I'm upset with her or don't want her. Because I do. And I'm going to do all this because if anything happened to her, and it was my fault, I would die.


Then there's my sweet baby boy. He is probably clueless to what is going on (minus witnessing my total emotional breakdown on the phone to my mom where he looked at me with concern and then gave me a sly smile - which ended my tears). Miles is at a meeting tonight so I put Owen to bed for the first time in four days. He was so excited to read with me. We read a few books and then he got fixated on one and we had a giggle fest over me trying to figure out what he was saying. Then when I told him it was the last book, he turned himself into the chair, said, "Nigh, nigh!" and started making fake snoring noises. Little does he know that I was holding back tears while I read to him because I was thinking of all the things I can't do for him, and then he goes and shows me that he loves me and the time we spend together and laughing with me. I needed that.


I know I am so blessed to have him. I know I am blessed to be pregnant again with a baby girl. I know I am blessed to have family and friends that are worried about me and willing to help. I know I need to focus on the positive...from here on out.