Some Serious Stuff

This is my serious story about the past few days, if you'd like to know what's been going on with me, and why I keep talking about bed rest on my Twitter account. Since this post covers a few days, it's pretty long -- just be aware.

On Monday I was going about my usual day, being pregnant and working on my little blog design business and trying not to call Christian too often. I had in my mind that I would stay pregnant for about another nine weeks, and I was excited that we were in the single digits of weeks left.

Then something happened. I'm not going to say exactly what it was, because there are certain things I don't feel the need to publish on the Internet {like images of my uterus or pictures of my naked pregnant belly}. If you're curious, feel free to send me an e-mail; I don't mind telling people, but I do like to maintain some semblance of privacy. So this thing happened, and I felt like it was something that I should maybe be concerned about, so I called Alice to ask her what I should do. I often call Alice when I feel like I need to talk to someone right away; she's good about picking up the phone. Alice told me to call my doctor. The doctor said to come in so they could check me out and make sure everything was okay.

I had a small panic attack while I was getting ready to go to the doctor -- one of several I would have over the course of the next few days.

Once I got to the doctor's office, around 2:30 in the afternoon, we did an ultrasound and a quick exam. The babies were both fine, with healthy heartbeats, but I was dilated a centimeter. My doctor wanted to be sure I wasn't having contractions, so she sent me over to Rex Hospital. I called Christian and let him know what was going on, then went up and got settled into my room. I had another small panic attack when I saw that I was in a room that also contained one of those hospital baby beds. I really didn't want anything to do with that bed for several weeks. Christian arrived shortly afterward, which helped calm me down.

I was hooked up to monitors, which kept the nurses informed that the babies were still healthy, but also told them I was having contractions that I couldn't feel. Having contractions when you're only 28 weeks along isn't a good thing, and I got a shot to stop the contractions. I got another shot of steroids to help the babies' lungs develop {just in case}, and then I was moved to another room, where it was assumed that Christian and I would pass the night. We ate dinner, we watched some TV, we went to sleep.

I woke up in the night, around 12:30, because I was feeling something I thought might be more contractions. I called the nurses and they hooked me back up to the monitor. Sure enough, I was having contractions that I could feel this time, and they were starting to get painful. I was moved to another room, and put on an IV of magnesium sulfate. The doctor was concerned that my contractions weren't stopping, so she made arrangements to have me transferred to UNC, which has a good NICU {just in case}.

I had another panic attack as I was being loaded into the ambulance and we drove away from Rex. It didn't help that Christian was supposed to be following us and I couldn't see his headlights.

I arrived safely at UNC early Tuesday morning, around 4:30. It was a little funny to Christian and I {just a little, though -- enough to make us smile at each other}, because just a couple days before we had joked about how we would feel if our children were born in Chapel Hill, and if it would be like on 30 Rock {even though 30 Rock isn't funny anymore} when Jack's daughter was born in Canada.

Once at UNC, I was hooked up to more monitors, given more magnesium sulfate, checked out by more doctors. We got a few hours of sleep, until about 7:00, when doctors started wanting to talk to me about C-sections and epidurals {just in case}. When it was determined that I was still only dilated one centimeter, and my contractions were slowing down, I was moved to a different room. My fifth hospital room in 24 hours.

My contractions continued to slow down throughout the day, especially after the nurses told me that I needed to keep myself hydrated, and also go to the bathroom often {full bladders bring on contractions}. I was hopeful that I could go home soon on modified bed rest, and remain pregnant for at least a few more weeks.

We spent the night on Tuesday, and then had an ultrasound scheduled for Wednesday morning. The ultrasound was, first, to determine how far along the babies were developmentally {just in case}, and second, to see if my uterus would allow me to go home. It turned out that the babies were healthy, if still very tiny -- just 2 pounds and 5 ounces each -- but my cervix had shortened, from 23 millimeters on Monday to 13 millimeters on Wednesday morning. All signs pointed to a prolonged hospital stay for me.

A little while later, after I was back in my room, a doctor came in and said that since this was my first pregnancy, they weren't sure how relevant it was that my cervix was shortened. If I had a history of pre-term labor, or if I had delivered other babies early, then they might be more concerned. As it was, I could go home on modified bed rest. And I did come home. And I'm so happy to be home.

I'm grateful that these babies are still inside me, because I don't think any of us are ready for them to be born yet. I'm grateful for Christian's company and support; I'm grateful that he has the priesthood and was able to give me a blessing. I'm grateful for the Spirit in my life, and for the continued comfort, peace and reassurance that I've been able to feel over the past several days. I'm grateful for everyone who has showed their love and concern for us. I'm grateful that I can be at home.


  1. So glad you're home and still pregnant. Thinking of you.

  2. I teared up a little from your story. So glad everything is under control now and you're home. I hope modified bed rest isn't too boring. If you need any crosswords or sudokus, let me know.

  3. I'm so glad this story ended on a positive note. I can't imagine having to deal with the panic attacks with everything else going on around you.