31 weeks and ... YIKES! We're delivering!

This is going to be a quick post because I'm sitting in my dark hospital room in L&D because my new night nurse who has to be related to my other Nurse Ratchett has turned off all the lights and tv and told me to go to sleep. Tomorrow is a big day, but this nurse scares me. 

Let's rewind. Yesterday I went to see Dr G for my new weekly visit and I happened to mention to him that I almost called him last night over a bunch of contractions. Then I stupidly whipped out my phone like a the idiot I am, proudly declared that I had tracked them all on my nifty contraction timer iPhone app that all pregnant women need to have, and started reading them to him. 

His usual jovial face quickly turned to stone. He said, "Uh ... That's a lot of contractions. Are you having them now?"

"Uh ... yeah," I couldn't wait to blurt out. "I had one right before I came into the exam room."  Nice one genius. Of course he hooked me up to the monitor in his office. OF COURSE I started contracting like a crazy woman. OF COURSE he sent me down to the hospital immediately. (That laundry in my basement ain't never getting done. *sigh*)

So here I am, in the hospital. Short story is that whenever I'm off the tocolytic drugs to stop the contractions, they start again. They were coming on like gangbusters ... 1-2 minutes apart at one point in the night and very, very painful where I couldn't talk through them. 

Contracting 1-2 mins. Yikes. Not fun. 

So my Dr G, my MFM, and oncologist all decided that it would be better to deliver the baby 24 hours after my last dose of steroids that maturate the baby's lungs kicked in. The reasoning is they want to be able to do the surgery under a planned and controlled environment rather than dealing with me in active labor where the risk of hemorrhaging is so much greater. As Dr P, one of my MFMs, said, "I'm not looking to be a hero." I get it. I appreciate that. 

The other icing on the cake was the discovery by the OTHER MFM (yes, I see all of them in that group), Dr D, during today's ultrasound, of a blood clot right beneath my cervix in the placenta that's imminently ready to blow. 

See that bubble right underneath the colors?  That's the clot. The colors are the blood vessels running through the placenta and landing in the clot. The thin dark line directly to the right of the colors is my cervix and its opening is partially covered by the placenta and the clot. 

The NICU team has spoken to me about my Little Boy Blue. Since he's a boy and before 32 weeks, his lung maturity is still underdeveloped. He'll need some time to  learn to breathe and feed on his own. He'll most likely be on CPAP at first, but hopefully not for too long. Also, his expected stay in the NICU is 3-4 weeks. They probably won't discharge him prior to 35 weeks gestational age. So unfortunately AGAIN, Wayne and I have to leave a baby behind when I check out of the hospital.  It's one of the worst feelings in the world. Any NICU parent will tell you that.  (Crap. Note to self:  buy a breast pump STAT since I won't have the real thing with me at home.)

So I'm now off fluids and food until delivery. At 8AM I go down to Interventional Radiography to get balloon catheters placed through the femoral arteries in my legs to go up to my uterus as a method to control bleeding. Then I have no idea what I'm supposed to do -- stare at my husband? Call the cord blood bank to make sure the kit gets here on time? Watch the Law & Order marathon on TBS again? -- until 1PM. SURGERY START TIME. 

The plan is to 1) deliver my precious baby boy whose chubby cheeks from the sonogram I want to kiss so much; 2) disconnect the bladder from the uterus; 3) remove said uterus; and 4) repair the bladder.  

I also finally talked Dr G out of his cockamamie plan to have me awake but with a spinal/epidural throughout the entire thing. Seriously deluded. I told him I didn't want to be part of the fun. I felt like I already AM the fun so why should I contribute more to it?  The last thing I want to hear is, "Scalpel ... Clamp ... Dear god, she needs another unit!"  No thank you. 

Nurse Ratchett 2 was scaring the bejesus out of me when I was going over it all with her.  She looked at me like, "Really? You want to be out for the surgery?"  No, I explained to her. I want to have the epidural for the baby so he's not groggy when he arrives and I can meet him, but after he's whisked to NICU, I want to be out like a light. No recollection of anything that happens thereafter. She said they've had patients with accreta have their entire surgeries fully awake. To boot, the entire time from when you enter the OR to when you leave the OR is about 6 hours. Okay -- I'm no wuss but I'm calling her BS on this. I don't think doctors have their patients awake for 6 freaking hours in the OR. Especially not for surgeries that could require major blood transfusions! 

My mental state ... I'm trying to be upbeat but I gotta admit ... I'm scared out of my gourd. Frightened of the outcome no matter how confident everyone is going in ... Terrified of the pain ... Petrified of everything. Will the baby be okay after delivery?  With his prematurity?  Although we had younger preemies, each one is different and you never know. I am scared of the pre-op and post-op pain and recovery.  

Alrighty. It's 1AM and I'm turning in. It's only a matter of time before someone comes in to do another blood draw so I need to catch my Z's when I can. Besides, I have a new guy I'm meeting tomorrow and I want to look my best for him.   

I'll post when I can on the other side. Wish us luck!!

That's me unshowered and pumped full of liquids and drugs.  Just wait until after the surgery. Ooooh baby. 

My yummy meal I was allowed to eat after 15 hours.  I was so hungry that it tasted like 2 Michelin stars. 

UPDATE:  I feel bad about calling her Nurse Ratchett 2. She's really not. After talking with her a bit and seeing as how she and my favorite resident let me take a shower ... She's actually really sweet and loves her job. I love all the nurses I've had here in NYU L&D.  They were terrific. Just the best.