My last day of work before maternity leave was June 5, 2015. I was very anxious to be off. It was two months before our due date, but I was so ready to be done. The hour and a half commute to and from work was killing me. I'm not sure why I was so anxious. I had done all my research and I knew exactly how much I would get paid, and when. I am very lucky to have the benefits I do and to be able to take a significant amount of time off of work, not only to take the time to rest and stay pregnant, but to also take a significant amount of time with the baby after she is born before I have to go back. I think I've just been working for so long, it feels foreign to me not to have to. It took the entire first week of leave for me to get used to it. I spent a lot of time sleeping, and then washing and putting away the multitude of outfits we received for this baby girl. I love walking into her room. It's not even done yet, but I just love standing in there, looking at all the stuff in her closet. I want it to be finished. We still have so much work to be done in this house before she gets here.
On Saturday, June 13, I woke up with lots of cramping and brown discharge. I've actually had this discharge before, several weeks back. But It was not a lot and I did not think much of it. I just assumed it was more of the unpleasant pregnancy stuff you go through. But this morning for some reason it alarmed me, coupled with all the cramping and the fact that I was not feeling her move as much as I usually do. Since the news about Maximus, my paranoia was at its peak. It was the morning of our baby shower, and Hubby's family had worked really hard to plan it. We decided it was better to be safe than sorry and to head down to the hospital just to get checked out. Hubby made me some breakfast in case it took a while, and we headed down and arrived there around 7 a.m. The triage part of Labor and Delivery was empty. We breathed a sigh of relief when we walked back there, hoping things would move swiftly since we were the only ones there. They had me put on a gown and hooked me right up to the fetal monitors. The baby was doing fine. They proceeded with the routine tests, blood pressure, urine, etc, and then we needed to wait for the doctor on call to come examine me. As we waited, the once very serene triage became packed, one pregnant lady after another. Some were in labor, some were just sick, either way they were all worse off than me and what we thought would be a short hospital visit ended up taking hours. Finally the doctor came in to examine me. She indicated that she saw the discharge I mentioned on my cervix and that it usually indicated old blood. She took some samples and said she would be back to do an ultrasound, and that she needed to consult with the high risk doctor on call. She left the room and was gone for quite a while. It was now around 11 am. We were hoping she would come back soon so we could get out of there. When she finally came back, around 1 pm, she apologized for the wait and said she had been in surgery. She also indicated that she talked to the high risk doctor and that they decided that they were going to admit me for observations for 48 hours. They were concerned about the bleeding, and wanted to give me steroids to develop the baby's lungs in case of preterm labor.
We had told them about our baby shower, and they did have empathy for us. They said that they would agree to let me leave for the shower, but that I would have to come back that night to be admitted. We made the decision at that time that if they felt the need to admit me, we would not take any risks by leaving, besides, I was already there - who knew how long it would take to get a bed if we came back later that night. So I was staying and Hubby would leave after I got all settled and go to the baby shower for both of us. I was sad, but felt good that we were receiving good care and monitoring. They finally moved me to my room and Hubby was able to take off in time to make it to the baby shower. I thought I was fine with it; it was the smart thing to do - staying at the hospital instead of leaving to go to the shower - until Hubby face-timed me from the shower. It made me so sad to see everyone there and all the work they put into it. I was emotional and feeling sorry for myself.
What was supposed to be a 48-hour hospital stay ended up being more like 5 days. Every day the doctor doing rounds would come in and advise me that they wanted to keep me another day - just to be safe. The goal was to keep me pregnant - at least until I was 32 weeks.
After 6 days in the hospital, they gave me steroids to develop the baby's lungs, advised me to take it easy and get lots of rest and sent me home.
I needed to be prepared for early delivery, so my baby bag was packed, the car seat was in the car and we settled in for the long wait. I think that is one of the hardest parts. The waiting. Especially at this point in the pregnancy, when you are so ready to be done. We still had quite a bit of work to do in the house, and I knew it was best for her to stay put, but I just wanted to hold her.
I had doctor visits twice a week and fetal monitoring. They were watching me like a hawk, and I was so grateful to be in such competent hands.