False Alarms and Anxiety

Today was not great. The cats were being, shall we say, douche weasels most of the morning, so I vacated to sleep at my parents. My hips and pelvis were killing me, and I had acid reflux so bad, even sitting up didn’t help. With the help of some Tums and the magic bed (my old bed that my parents now have) I did actually get some sleep.

Shawn had a huge split in his shifts today, so I basically let him do his own thing while I had breakfast, sorted the laundry and got started on actually packing my hospital bag. I say got started because something unusual happened when I was getting ready to hop in the shower. There was a gush of mucous like fluid down my legs, more than I’ve probably ever had. At first, I thought it was my mucous plug releasing. After all, I am dilated, so this wouldn’t be that strange. However, the colour and the smell (sorry if this is too much information), seemed a little odd. A far as I knew, greenish brown was. I a colour I wanted to be seeing.

My first instinct was to text my mum and ask her about it. She wanted updates on how I was doing anyway, so this didn’t seem to be a big deal. She asked me a bunch of questions: how much, what was the consistency, what colour… And after a pretty steady grilling, she told me I needed to get checked, ASAP.

Great. A trip to the hospital. I know that the assessment ward is designed for situations like this, but after the last time I was in, I’m extra leery about wasting the time of hospital staff. Add to that the same feelings I get when I land in the ER with a migraine, and I didn’t feel particularly great. Mum said I should go in, though, so that’s what I was going to do.

I told Shawn we needed to get to the hospital, and this is where my annoyance started to peak. He knew my water may have just broken. He knew mum thought we should hurry. In spite of all this, he just sat on the couch, watching anime and slowly finishing his lunch while I rushed around trying to find comfortable clothes and do something with my wet hair. I actually called him out on his lack of urgency. He seemed to think the whole thing was amusing. I was no where near amused, and his casual, nonchalant attitude was quite upsetting.

I know that he has a pretty casual attitude towards most things, but I thought that if there was the potential that our son had decided to show up that he would have a little spark. I guess I was wrong. I was a little concerned because the colour of the fluid reminded me of amniotic fluid laced with meconium, and that warranted a bit if a rush. I didn’t tell Shawn this because I didn’t want him to panic, but maybe I should have. If he was a little panicked, perhaps he would have taken things more seriously.

We did make it to the hospital, and mum was wasting to take me up to assessment. Shawn had to go back to work, and I knew that if anything serious was going to happen, it probably wouldn’t be before he was finished his hour long school run. That’s what cell phones are for, after all. A quick call or text could have him back to the hospital in snort order.

Once again, I was greeted and gotten in to a gown with little fuss. It’s weird being a patient when my mum is there. Everyone knows her, and she sometimes has a hard time not speaking for me. That comes from a long time of tending me and being my primary caregiver with my illness, and I don’t resent her for it one bit. Luckily for us, as well, my actual OB was working that day, and she knew all about what was already happening with my cervix from the previous day. I needed another internal exam (huzzah!) and that showed that my water had not broken, I was slightly more dilated and my plug had indeed started to come out.

With that, and a little bit of monitoring to make sure the baby was still good, we were on our way. I once again felt like I had been a huge waste of time, even though my doctor, the supervising manager of the case room, and my mum all thought I was right to go in and get looked at. It did give me some relief to know that nothing detrimental was happening, but when my doctor told me that there was a good chance the Little Man could come this weekend, I started getting anxious. Never mind going in again for no real reason, our son could be coming any day.

Now, I’m not anxious about the birth part. Whatever will happen with that is going to happen, and great is no reason to stress about it. Mum actually joked that because of my extremely high pain tolerance from my migraine disease, I might not even know I was in actual labour until I was ten centimetres. Aside from being funny, this was actually true. My anxiety is coming from not knowing when it’s going to happen. It could be tomorrow. It could be In two weeks. I feels like it’s going to be any day. The baby dropped about four inches when the whole plug incident happened, so he’s getting ready just as much as I am. When he decides to actually snow up, though, is completely up in the air.

I know I’m going to be a good mum, but that doesn’t stop me from worrying about screwing him up. Then there’s the baby shower. If he shows up before then, I’m going to want to douse all the guests with sanitizer, particularly because I don’t know who had gotten their flu shot and who hasn’t. I don’t want our son passed around to a bunch of people when there is such a severe flu outbreak going on. Then there’s Shawn’s nana, who is still miffed about not. Big to allowed in the hospital. She has a nasty cold right now, and I could t help thinking about how awkward that conversation would be if he showed up this weekend. She would want to see him, and I would be wanting to ask her to scrub up to the elbows with sanitizer nada now wear a mask. I don’t see that going very well. Add to that the fact that neither she nor my mother in a we have gotten their shots, and it’s just making me tense.

I don’t like not knowing when things are going to happen, and this situation makes me feel completely out of control. The only reassurance I’ve really been feeling is knowing that it’s slim to none that I will need to be induced. Beyond that, I know nothing, and I hate it.

I had a good cry a little while ago, and that helped to relieve some of the tension in my muscles, but the whole thing is still on my mind. Every time I have a contraction, I stop what I’m doing and pay extra special attention to how it feels and howling it’s lasting. I doubt I’ll be getting much sleep tonight.

I packed my hospital bag almost as soon as I got home. I had started collecting everything, but now the only things that are missing are the ones that we use on a regular basis, like the iPad, my toothbrush, and a suitable pillow. Shawn actually added a few of his own things to the list we have written on the kitchen wall, and tomorrow we are going out to get our car seat, stroller, and any other little things we are bound to need if he shows up soon. A changing pad for the dresser is high on that list, so as well as some wash cloths, a few towels and possibly a baby monitor.

Add here I thought I was prepared because his clothes were clean and the room is done. Ha! It’s not until shit starts getting real that you realize how unprepared you actually are. I want him to be born so we can finally say hello to the little creature I’ve been cultivating since May. I just wish I had a more firm timeline.

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