Most people make plans on Saturday evenings. Dinners out, get-togethers with friends, pizza and Netflix date night, you get the picture. Saturday nights are prime weekend real estate.
I'm not sure what you did with your Saturday night this weekend, but unless things took a turn for the worse at a pretty wild party, I'm going to guess that you didn't spend two hours on Saturday evening in the hospital.
Ahem.
It was shortly after 4pm on Saturday afternoon. I had just arrived at church in advance of our weekly 5pm worship service. I needed to set up for communion, unlock outside doors around church, and do any last-minute tweaks to my sermon. I always start by unlocking doors. I have a pattern. Start with the door across from my office, and make a big loop to catch the main office entrance, the kitchen entrance, both handicap-accessible entrances, and then the courtyard entrance. I've done this many times.
Well this time, I was walking down a half-flight of stairs leading down to the final door. I took one or two steps just fine, but then the rounded edge of the steps plus the old, worn, slippery carpeting took its revenge. My right foot slipped off of the step, and I twisted and banged my left ankle as I crashed down onto the steps on my butt and back. And then slid/bounced down a few more steps before inertia wore off. I sat there for a minute, taking stock.
First thought: I'm glad I didn't fall forward and smush my belly.
Second thought: Man, my left ankle hurts. I wonder if it's going to get more or less painful in the next five minutes.
Third thought: Bobby (church accompanist) is practicing in the sanctuary just on the other side of this wall. I wonder if he heard the crash.
I was both embarrassed and totally shaken. I hobbled down, unlocked the last door, went back to my office, and tried to calm down a little bit as I finished getting ready for worship. I muddled my way through the service, trying to keep face while also trying to discern how and if hedgehog was moving.
Post-church, I went home, served up a huge plate of hamburger casserole (thanks for cooking, Matt!), took two bites, and then decided that I hadn't felt hedgie move much, even now at home and relaxing with my feet up. So over to the fridge I went, grabbed a cold bottle of Gatorade, and gulped a bunch of it down. I was so so hungry, but ignored my dinner so that I could instead lie down on my side and count kicks.
Quiet. One or two meager flutters. I wasn't convinced.
So I made Matt drive me to the ER. I felt a little silly. I knew things were probably fine. But unless hedgehog started doing lots of flips, I was just not going to feel convinced that everything was fine. The receptionists at the ER were skeptical. Called the OB department instead of sending me directly into the ER. I talked to an OB nurse on the phone, who also sounded skeptical.
But who could blame them, honestly? I mean, I fell, yes. But I didn't tumble head-over-foot. I didn't hit my belly. I hit hard and felt everything inside of me bounce, but I was fine enough to get up and walk, and to lead a worship service, and to go home and serve dinner. Ok. But still. I was worried. So I was a little annoyed that everybody was treating me like, "you're really fine, and it's silly you're here."
Anyway, up to OB I went. I declined a wheelchair ride because I was already feeling plenty sheepish.
At OB, a different nurse than the one I'd talked to brought me to a L&D room - a nurse who is a member of my congregation! I pulled on a stretchy belly band and she positioned two monitors under it. One checking for contractions, one measuring hedgehog's heartbeat. So a pretty typical non-stress test.
Heartbeat was quick and easy to find. Big sigh of relief.
And then, silly hedgehog decided to make me look REALLY silly. Immediate thrashing and flipping and punching. Of course. Murphy's Law of heading to the hospital. As soon as you get there, everything decides to be FINE.
We waited for about an hour and a half as they monitored me, and then I met one of the other doctors who delivers at the hospital (mine was out of town), who was super-nice and didn't make me feel silly at all. He told me that baby's vitals weren't just fine, they were GREAT. They look for a baseline heart rate, and then they watch the heart rate to see if it rises when baby moves. Apparently, hedgehog's heart rate rises exactly like it should whenever (s)he flails around.
So all is well. Yay! I still feel a little silly for going and making a fuss. At the same time, I would have been a ball of anxiety the whole night if I hadn't gone in. Totally worth the peace of mind. And bonus...I love hearing that heartbeat. And lying around watching my belly get kicked.
For the record, I wandered near that staircase in the back of the church on Sunday morning, just to give it the evil eye. And then turned around and used a different staircase. Just out of spite. :)
I'm not sure what you did with your Saturday night this weekend, but unless things took a turn for the worse at a pretty wild party, I'm going to guess that you didn't spend two hours on Saturday evening in the hospital.
Ahem.
It was shortly after 4pm on Saturday afternoon. I had just arrived at church in advance of our weekly 5pm worship service. I needed to set up for communion, unlock outside doors around church, and do any last-minute tweaks to my sermon. I always start by unlocking doors. I have a pattern. Start with the door across from my office, and make a big loop to catch the main office entrance, the kitchen entrance, both handicap-accessible entrances, and then the courtyard entrance. I've done this many times.
Well this time, I was walking down a half-flight of stairs leading down to the final door. I took one or two steps just fine, but then the rounded edge of the steps plus the old, worn, slippery carpeting took its revenge. My right foot slipped off of the step, and I twisted and banged my left ankle as I crashed down onto the steps on my butt and back. And then slid/bounced down a few more steps before inertia wore off. I sat there for a minute, taking stock.
First thought: I'm glad I didn't fall forward and smush my belly.
Second thought: Man, my left ankle hurts. I wonder if it's going to get more or less painful in the next five minutes.
Third thought: Bobby (church accompanist) is practicing in the sanctuary just on the other side of this wall. I wonder if he heard the crash.
I was both embarrassed and totally shaken. I hobbled down, unlocked the last door, went back to my office, and tried to calm down a little bit as I finished getting ready for worship. I muddled my way through the service, trying to keep face while also trying to discern how and if hedgehog was moving.
Post-church, I went home, served up a huge plate of hamburger casserole (thanks for cooking, Matt!), took two bites, and then decided that I hadn't felt hedgie move much, even now at home and relaxing with my feet up. So over to the fridge I went, grabbed a cold bottle of Gatorade, and gulped a bunch of it down. I was so so hungry, but ignored my dinner so that I could instead lie down on my side and count kicks.
Quiet. One or two meager flutters. I wasn't convinced.
So I made Matt drive me to the ER. I felt a little silly. I knew things were probably fine. But unless hedgehog started doing lots of flips, I was just not going to feel convinced that everything was fine. The receptionists at the ER were skeptical. Called the OB department instead of sending me directly into the ER. I talked to an OB nurse on the phone, who also sounded skeptical.
But who could blame them, honestly? I mean, I fell, yes. But I didn't tumble head-over-foot. I didn't hit my belly. I hit hard and felt everything inside of me bounce, but I was fine enough to get up and walk, and to lead a worship service, and to go home and serve dinner. Ok. But still. I was worried. So I was a little annoyed that everybody was treating me like, "you're really fine, and it's silly you're here."
Anyway, up to OB I went. I declined a wheelchair ride because I was already feeling plenty sheepish.
 |
| My view. White stretchy belly band. Two monitors slipped underneath. Barefoot on a hospital bed, watching playoff baseball to pass the time until the doctor could get to me. |
Heartbeat was quick and easy to find. Big sigh of relief.
And then, silly hedgehog decided to make me look REALLY silly. Immediate thrashing and flipping and punching. Of course. Murphy's Law of heading to the hospital. As soon as you get there, everything decides to be FINE.
We waited for about an hour and a half as they monitored me, and then I met one of the other doctors who delivers at the hospital (mine was out of town), who was super-nice and didn't make me feel silly at all. He told me that baby's vitals weren't just fine, they were GREAT. They look for a baseline heart rate, and then they watch the heart rate to see if it rises when baby moves. Apparently, hedgehog's heart rate rises exactly like it should whenever (s)he flails around.
So all is well. Yay! I still feel a little silly for going and making a fuss. At the same time, I would have been a ball of anxiety the whole night if I hadn't gone in. Totally worth the peace of mind. And bonus...I love hearing that heartbeat. And lying around watching my belly get kicked.
For the record, I wandered near that staircase in the back of the church on Sunday morning, just to give it the evil eye. And then turned around and used a different staircase. Just out of spite. :)
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