I was having a textbook, ideal, super easy pregnancy (not to brag). I never got sick, never bled, didn't swell, great blood pressure, no gestational diabetes, etc. I was due February 26th and expecting a not so little boy. My OB kept scheduling extra ultrasounds to monitor his growth because he was measuring a little on the big side. Then January rolled around and everything started changing. I threw up (and uncontrollably peed on the bathroom rug) for the first and only time in my pregnancy sometime during the first week of January. Then Friday January 7th I had some bleeding late at night. I called my hospital and spoke to a few nurses and they said to take it easy, lay on my side, and drink lots of water and call back if it doesn't stop. Thankfully, it stopped after a few hours and I never cramped and my Braxton Hicks contractions stayed normal. Yay, for not having to go to the hospital. I had an appointment scheduled for the 17th and when I called the office they said unless I started contracting or bleeding again, there was no reason to see me before then.
Sunday, January 7th was my baby shower. It was perfect. My closest friends and my mom and grandma were there, as well as my inlaws from up north. My friend who threw me the shower arranged for me to have a birthday cake instead of a shower cake since my birthday was January 11th. I definitely got teary and emotional when she surprised me with that and everyone sang Happy Birthday to me. My grandma told me multiple times that I have such lovely friends. She sat with my husband's grandmother and they chatted for quite a while. She charmed my MIL's sister. The only other time these women were in the same room was for our wedding, and well there a lot more people attending that event so they never really chatted with one another. It really was a nice party.
On my birthday, as has happened many times, there was a snowstorm. My mom called to make sure we were still planning on going out to dinner and asked if we could pick up our travel system that my grandma had bought for us. It had arrived at my mom's house the day after the shower. We decided to brave the storm and told our friends that we would forgive them if they didn't come out because of the weather. My mom, stepdad, brother and a couple of friends all braved the roads to come out and celebrate my birthday. My dear, sweet husband finally let me have my gift that he had been teasing me with. I have a gorgeous pair of diamond studs that haven't left my ears in almost 7 months. On our way home we picked up the travel system. Good food, great company, and another awesome day.
Then Thursday morning happened.
My phone rang...early. My mom knows not to call before a certain time unless it's really important. The last time she called me this early, my stepdad was having a heart attack. I answered the phone, "What's wrong?" She asked if DH was awake and there with me. I could hear how hard she was fighting back tears. I thought my stepdad had another heart attack. I woke DH and asked again, "What's wrong?" After a deep breath, "Grandma's dead." *Just remembering this moment, even 7 months later, I'm fighting back tears* Her driver found her. All we knew at that time was that it appeared that she had died in her sleep. I was sobbing. For most of my life, my grandmother and I did not get along. She was very judgmental and it never felt like anything I did was good enough, etc. But, in the last few years we had gotten very close and we actually enjoyed each other's company. She was proud of me, and so so so excited about becoming a great grandmother. It wasn't fair that she was gone. I wanted her to meet my yet unnamed son.
The next phone call hit me like a ton of bricks. "There was a note." At that moment, my emotions went in so many directions but mainly bounced between hurt, angry, and sad, with a little guilt thrown in there. She chose to leave us. She chose to never meet my son. How could I not be angry with her? Hurt by her? I'm still angry and hurt. I'm still sad that she'll never meet Emmet; she never even knew his name. She wrote the note on my birthday and passed away sometime the next morning. Her funeral was set for Thursday January 20th. Even though I was under direction to leave the area by my doctors, I did so to attend her funeral.
Between her death and the funeral, I had a doctor's appointment on the 17th. They told me I was dilated and they wanted to measure the length of my cervix with an ultrasound the next day. DH and I showed up for my appointment and they had to reschedule me because the table in the ultrasound room was broken. I rescheduled for the following Tuesday, the 25th. At this point, I had already had like 5 ultrasounds during my pregnancy so I was pretty familiar with the routine. This time however, the ultrasound tech had to call in an OB because she couldn't measure my cervix properly for some reason. After looking at the screen for a couple seconds, the doctor asked if it was alright if she checked me. To everyone's surprise I was 5cm dilated with bulging membranes. I was barely 35 weeks pregnant. DH called off work when the doctor told me to go to the hospital. They thought I was in preterm labor. I never had painful contractions, just what I considered normal Braxton Hicks contractions. They hooked me up to an IV with antibiotics because I hadn't been tested for Group B Strep yet. Then they strapped a couple of monitors to my belly. They basically starved me and then told me to try to sleep. I had never spent the night in a hospital. DH had to go home to take care of the pets and to wash some baby stuff and throw together a hospital bag (I wasn't expecting to need one yet so I hadn't packed one). I cried when he left to go home to sleep. I wanted so badly to go home. I eventually slept and when they checked me in the morning I wasn't any more progressed than I had been when I
I'm tired and this is long. I suppose I can stop here and continue the story another night.
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