I just found an article that describes exactly the tribulations I am going through these days with my very pissed off irritable uterus:
My Uterus and the Terrible Twos
A lot of time and energy has been focused on my cervix, and rightly so, as it has been cause for concern, however, the real pain-in-the-ass, sulky brat of the family is my uterus. The cervix is the quieter one, gamely struggling along, trying its utmost to do its bit for the great good.
But my uterus…. What a total *****. I know you aren’t supposed to say that about your own body parts but I am nothing if not honest. As I have previously mentioned I suffer from an irritable uterus (it’s a real thing), but my uterus takes this medical diagnosis a step further is just plain bratty. My ute is exactly like a typical two year old toddler, going through that ‘terrible twos’ phase.
My gorgeous niece, who is two, is going through a similar phase, where her entire vocabulary seems to be made up of the phrase “I don’t like it”, said in an extremely whiney tone. If you make her orange juice, she doesn’t like it and wants berry juice etc. Her favourite dish from yesterday? She doesn’t like it today. Cheese? I don’t like it. This dress? I don’t like it. Ah don laaaaak ittt.
My ute is like that. But worse. Everything irritates my uterus. Full bladders, lying too long on one side, clothes that press even gently on my belly, the list is endless and sadly it is growing.
The equivalent of the ‘throw yourself on the floor tantrum’ behaviour exhibited by my uterus is for it to tighten up and get hard in the manner of a BH, bordering on a contraction. In other words behaviour requires my most immediate and urgent attention. Behaviour that if not placated will start off labour. My ute has got me by the balls.
As the list of “I don’t like it’s” gets longer, so my world gets smaller. My uterus has now decided that it HATES me to sit for longer than about 45 minutes. After this time it will make its displeasure clearly known and force me to lie down to appease it. So my favourite weekend pastime of going out for breakfast with my husband is no longer.
Apparently sitting in the passenger seat of a car is also now not acceptable. Any thing longer than 10 mins drive and I get a big BH. Which means I can’t attend the family gathering on Sunday for BIL’s b/day, or drive to the baby shop to get any more things. Funnily enough my uterus doesn’t mind me standing or walking around. I just may not sit as this squashes it and it ‘doesn’t like it’. Of course I can’t do lots of standing or walking because of my long-suffering cervix. So lying down it is. Which is a pity because I would love to use this time to write, but even half lying, half sitting is apparently a no no.
It would appear that my one little luxury left over, a facial, is also now no longer acceptable, after yesterday’s session my uterus performed the whole day. I have never met a sulkier brat in my life. Apparently lying on my back forces my uterus to squash a little and press on my bladder, my ute hates my bladder even about as much as it hates being squashed, lord knows why, and so now hates facials. If my poor bladder gets even slightly full and DARES to encroach on the ute’s territory, the ute will respond viciously with a severe tightening. Never mind that the ute is actually taking up space previously reserved for the bladder. The bladder is petrified. As am I to be honest.
And don’t think this sulky brat behaviour ends at night, oh no. We will go to bed apparently all on good terms, my cervix, bladder, uterus and I, when my uterus will decide my bladder has upset it somehow. Cries of ‘you’re in my space’ and other winging follows. And beware the consequences if I feign extreme exhaustion / sleep. A mother of all tantrums will follow with a tightening that basically forces me to get up, have a quiet word with my bladder, empty it to make space, make sure every one is happy again, rearrange the pillows and hope that we all go back to sleep. This happens several times a night, for example the previous night it was 11, 12, 12:20, 2, 4 and 5. And not just any pillow under my belly. The ute doesn’t like that pillow or the other one, only this one. I just love nighttime.
In fact sometimes the uterus gets so sulky I am not even allowed to rest my hands on my belly to feel the kicks and movement. Oh no. It just wants to be left alone.
Luckily for me I can recognize the signs of a tantrum coming on quite easily and can immediately distract my uterus, the only time I can’t is if I am sitting because then there is no stopping the irritable cow. Sigh.
And so, while my cervix the one forcing me to take it easy, it is my uterus that is completely ruling my life and defining my world. I am a slave to the whims of my uterus.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Friday, March 26, 2010
More drama
Oh boy...I'm getting so tired of having an incompetent cervix AND an irritable uterus.
Yesterday, at 33w2d (cervix still closed at 3.5 with only micro-funneling), I decided it was time to treat myself to a massage to ease my physical pain. And since one of my good friends was having her baby shower in one of the 5* hotels here, I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone and have the massage at hotel's spa. Before leaving, I starting contracting mildly but frequently. But as soon as I got into the taxi, it stopped. Then it started again when I got to the spa. Then it stopped when I laid down on the massage table. Then it started again, but stronger, after my massage. By the time I got down to where the shower was, the contractions were 30 seconds apart and coming hard. I only stayed 10 min and then excused myself to hurry home back to my couch.
BUT the Hong Kong Sevens are happening right now. It's part of the Sevens World Series in rugby and kind of a big deal. All the taxis were taken, I was standing at the hotel's taxi stand for 30 min, contracting like crazy and with no prospects of going home. And hubby was at those damn Seven's, incapable of getting to me. I had a meltdown right there, in the middle of Hong Kong, sobbing and hyperventilating. Things were really bad and I thought that I should go to that dreadful hospital. So I went back into the hotel, and lied to the concierge (a woman's gotta do what a woman's gotta do!), telling him that I was having my baby and needed to get into a taxi ASAP. Poor man, I think I freaked him out. Within 2 minutes, I was in the only available taxi around (how did he do that??) and I was on my way to the hospital. It dropped me off there, and by the time I was on the table for monitoring, I wasn't contracting anymore. All this was happening with hubby on the phone, going "what's happening? what's happening?". Luckily, I got discharged after 1h, back into a taxi, and home in my bed around 8pm. You can't imagine how miserable I felt, and am still feeling. I cried the whole way, the entire evening and a bit more this morning.
I know I'm doing this for the best reason in the world, but man it's tough! The ONE time that I want to see my friends who have been so supportive during these dark months, I have to make a mad dash for the hospital after 10 min. And all that time, hubby is at the biggest HK event of the year, drinking beer and having fun. NOT FAIR!
I whined and moaned all morning, telling the world (aka my husband and my dog) that I was fed up with this pregnancy, that I couldn't do it any longer. Then I got online, googled "34 weeks preemie" and that was enough to give me another boost in motivation to make it on bedrest another 2 weeks and 5 days. How come it's harder at the end than it was at the beginning?
I've cancelled any "wild" plans of getting out of my house for the next 19 days. That little experience cured of thinking that it was ok to move around a bit more now. Bouh :-(
I think I should send a thank-you card to the concierge of the hotel. Or I'll just send him a picture of the Bean once he/she is here!
Yesterday, at 33w2d (cervix still closed at 3.5 with only micro-funneling), I decided it was time to treat myself to a massage to ease my physical pain. And since one of my good friends was having her baby shower in one of the 5* hotels here, I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone and have the massage at hotel's spa. Before leaving, I starting contracting mildly but frequently. But as soon as I got into the taxi, it stopped. Then it started again when I got to the spa. Then it stopped when I laid down on the massage table. Then it started again, but stronger, after my massage. By the time I got down to where the shower was, the contractions were 30 seconds apart and coming hard. I only stayed 10 min and then excused myself to hurry home back to my couch.
BUT the Hong Kong Sevens are happening right now. It's part of the Sevens World Series in rugby and kind of a big deal. All the taxis were taken, I was standing at the hotel's taxi stand for 30 min, contracting like crazy and with no prospects of going home. And hubby was at those damn Seven's, incapable of getting to me. I had a meltdown right there, in the middle of Hong Kong, sobbing and hyperventilating. Things were really bad and I thought that I should go to that dreadful hospital. So I went back into the hotel, and lied to the concierge (a woman's gotta do what a woman's gotta do!), telling him that I was having my baby and needed to get into a taxi ASAP. Poor man, I think I freaked him out. Within 2 minutes, I was in the only available taxi around (how did he do that??) and I was on my way to the hospital. It dropped me off there, and by the time I was on the table for monitoring, I wasn't contracting anymore. All this was happening with hubby on the phone, going "what's happening? what's happening?". Luckily, I got discharged after 1h, back into a taxi, and home in my bed around 8pm. You can't imagine how miserable I felt, and am still feeling. I cried the whole way, the entire evening and a bit more this morning.
I know I'm doing this for the best reason in the world, but man it's tough! The ONE time that I want to see my friends who have been so supportive during these dark months, I have to make a mad dash for the hospital after 10 min. And all that time, hubby is at the biggest HK event of the year, drinking beer and having fun. NOT FAIR!
I whined and moaned all morning, telling the world (aka my husband and my dog) that I was fed up with this pregnancy, that I couldn't do it any longer. Then I got online, googled "34 weeks preemie" and that was enough to give me another boost in motivation to make it on bedrest another 2 weeks and 5 days. How come it's harder at the end than it was at the beginning?
I've cancelled any "wild" plans of getting out of my house for the next 19 days. That little experience cured of thinking that it was ok to move around a bit more now. Bouh :-(
I think I should send a thank-you card to the concierge of the hotel. Or I'll just send him a picture of the Bean once he/she is here!
Friday, March 19, 2010
32 weeks
...and I'm not even that excited. No that's not true, I'm happy to have reached 32 weeks, but only because it's on the way to 34. After my Chinese-public-hospital trauma, I will not relax until I'm safe to be accepted at the very nice clinic perched on the tallest mountain in Hong Kong. Yes, I'm superficial but I think that after 18 weeks of bedrest and with no prospects of ever getting off my couch, I deserve la crème de la crème.
Talking of bedrest, I raised the issue today with Dr. G.: when or rather, will I ever go off it?! All I could get from him was that he would progressively give me more freedom "depending on how my body reacts". Ugh, that's not good news. My body usually reacts to more activity by contracting more. I'm trying to prepare myself for the possibility of a 22 weeks bedrest. That's right, that's 5 1/2 months of my life spent laying on a day bed in my living room.
Now for the good news: despite all the contractions, the beloved cervix remains closed at 3.5cm, which is wonderful. And the big headed Bean is growing well. Yes, my baby has a big head. But it's filled with brains and my baby will be the most intelligent baby ever.
We met a doula for the first time today. (A birth doula is a labor support person who provides continuous emotional, physical, and informational support to the birthing woman and her family before, during, and after birth).
I was afraid she was going to be some hippy trying to force us into a natural birth, at home, in a bathtub. But she was absolutely lovely, modern and didn't say anything against our decision to have a planned c-section. On the contrary, she was very supportive, talked us through the whole process and made us feel very comfortable about it. I was on the verge of tears throughout the entire meeting, not only because of my raging hormones, but because we finally met someone who understands what we are going through and takes all the parameters into account. In short, I love her.
She gave us the idea of burning a CD to play before and during the surgery, to make us feel better. The idea is wonderful, but hubby has already put "Gimme Shelter" (yes, the original version!) on the playlist. Note to self: must remember to switch CDs before leaving for the hospital.
Talking of bedrest, I raised the issue today with Dr. G.: when or rather, will I ever go off it?! All I could get from him was that he would progressively give me more freedom "depending on how my body reacts". Ugh, that's not good news. My body usually reacts to more activity by contracting more. I'm trying to prepare myself for the possibility of a 22 weeks bedrest. That's right, that's 5 1/2 months of my life spent laying on a day bed in my living room.
Now for the good news: despite all the contractions, the beloved cervix remains closed at 3.5cm, which is wonderful. And the big headed Bean is growing well. Yes, my baby has a big head. But it's filled with brains and my baby will be the most intelligent baby ever.
We met a doula for the first time today. (A birth doula is a labor support person who provides continuous emotional, physical, and informational support to the birthing woman and her family before, during, and after birth).
I was afraid she was going to be some hippy trying to force us into a natural birth, at home, in a bathtub. But she was absolutely lovely, modern and didn't say anything against our decision to have a planned c-section. On the contrary, she was very supportive, talked us through the whole process and made us feel very comfortable about it. I was on the verge of tears throughout the entire meeting, not only because of my raging hormones, but because we finally met someone who understands what we are going through and takes all the parameters into account. In short, I love her.
She gave us the idea of burning a CD to play before and during the surgery, to make us feel better. The idea is wonderful, but hubby has already put "Gimme Shelter" (yes, the original version!) on the playlist. Note to self: must remember to switch CDs before leaving for the hospital.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
A night in a Chinese public hospital
As us French say: oh la la! I just got home from the most dreadful 24 hours of this pregnancy.
Saturday (yesterday), I got into a bit of an argument with hubby which, if I have to be completely honest, was prompted mostly by my raging hormones. But let's not tell him that.
Anyways, I got so upset that I started to have contractions every 30 to 90 seconds. As I have a very irritable womb, I just tried to calm down and see if it would go away. It didn't. After 4 hours of suffering, I had had enough and we headed to my OB's private clinic for monitoring. This time, the nurse was much nicer! But once again, I had to explain my entire history, with much details. I'm getting a bit fed up with the face people pull when they hear the twins' birth weight. Oh well.
After 10 minutes of monitoring, it was confirmed that I was indeed having small contractions every 30 seconds. Dr. G. ever so conservative, said he didn't want to take any chances. I thought that meant I would spend the night in his very luxurious clinic, in a nice private room. How wrong I was...
Within 15 minutes, he had informed the biggest public hospital in Hong Kong that has a NICU (neonatal care unit) that I was on my way AND booked an ambulance for me! I freaked out slightly, especially since I was hoping not to have to spend time in the hospital during this pregnancy. Also, I am quite traumatized from last year's experience. I hate ambulances and I hate hospitals. Thankfully, hubby was allowed in the ambulance with me.
When we got there, I was put in the most hideous bright pink hospital gown and they immediately strapped me to plenty of monitors, while doctors poked and prodded me. I was still contracting, but I couldn't feel all of them anymore. The cervix looked long and closed, and the Bean was moving well.
Now, about that hospital: try and picture a Third World hospital. Something you only see on TV. Well that's where I was. Sort of. Ok, I might be exaggerating a bit but it was dreadful. The only visiting hours are from 6-8pm, even for husbands! Everyone is walking around in these bright pink outfits, with plastic slippers and socks, which deeply offended my inner fashionista. All the beds are next to another, without any privacy other than rainbow colored curtains. Let's not even talk about the bathroom. That's right, singular. The lights are only dimmed at night, and everyone around me was moaning, tossing, turning, coughing, texting, etc. I barely slept. The food is very Cantonese: I had congee (a very viscous rice porridge) and a boiled egg for breakfast. My diet for the whole time there consisted of the Twix, Mars and Snickers that hubby had gotten from the 7/11 downstairs.
One of my friends who spent 12 weeks on strict bedrest at the luxurious private clinic, followed by a week at this university hospital said that 3 hours there were worse than the whole 12 weeks before.
The next morning, I got monitored again. If I was still contracting, they would keep me another few days. But luckily, everything was quiet (by my standards) and I was finally allowed back home. I will never ever complain about home bedrest, I swear! I love my bed, I love my couch, I love my home-cooked meals, I love my computer, my TV, my home.
I went into the hospital, and came back out with the Bean still in my belly. This is my biggest victory so far.
Saturday (yesterday), I got into a bit of an argument with hubby which, if I have to be completely honest, was prompted mostly by my raging hormones. But let's not tell him that.
Anyways, I got so upset that I started to have contractions every 30 to 90 seconds. As I have a very irritable womb, I just tried to calm down and see if it would go away. It didn't. After 4 hours of suffering, I had had enough and we headed to my OB's private clinic for monitoring. This time, the nurse was much nicer! But once again, I had to explain my entire history, with much details. I'm getting a bit fed up with the face people pull when they hear the twins' birth weight. Oh well.
After 10 minutes of monitoring, it was confirmed that I was indeed having small contractions every 30 seconds. Dr. G. ever so conservative, said he didn't want to take any chances. I thought that meant I would spend the night in his very luxurious clinic, in a nice private room. How wrong I was...
Within 15 minutes, he had informed the biggest public hospital in Hong Kong that has a NICU (neonatal care unit) that I was on my way AND booked an ambulance for me! I freaked out slightly, especially since I was hoping not to have to spend time in the hospital during this pregnancy. Also, I am quite traumatized from last year's experience. I hate ambulances and I hate hospitals. Thankfully, hubby was allowed in the ambulance with me.
When we got there, I was put in the most hideous bright pink hospital gown and they immediately strapped me to plenty of monitors, while doctors poked and prodded me. I was still contracting, but I couldn't feel all of them anymore. The cervix looked long and closed, and the Bean was moving well.
Now, about that hospital: try and picture a Third World hospital. Something you only see on TV. Well that's where I was. Sort of. Ok, I might be exaggerating a bit but it was dreadful. The only visiting hours are from 6-8pm, even for husbands! Everyone is walking around in these bright pink outfits, with plastic slippers and socks, which deeply offended my inner fashionista. All the beds are next to another, without any privacy other than rainbow colored curtains. Let's not even talk about the bathroom. That's right, singular. The lights are only dimmed at night, and everyone around me was moaning, tossing, turning, coughing, texting, etc. I barely slept. The food is very Cantonese: I had congee (a very viscous rice porridge) and a boiled egg for breakfast. My diet for the whole time there consisted of the Twix, Mars and Snickers that hubby had gotten from the 7/11 downstairs.
One of my friends who spent 12 weeks on strict bedrest at the luxurious private clinic, followed by a week at this university hospital said that 3 hours there were worse than the whole 12 weeks before.
The next morning, I got monitored again. If I was still contracting, they would keep me another few days. But luckily, everything was quiet (by my standards) and I was finally allowed back home. I will never ever complain about home bedrest, I swear! I love my bed, I love my couch, I love my home-cooked meals, I love my computer, my TV, my home.
I went into the hospital, and came back out with the Bean still in my belly. This is my biggest victory so far.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Could I be getting used to this?
As I enter my 17th week on bedrest, I find myself having less and less bedrest-related tantrums. Usually, I would break down at least once a week, cry, rage and make my poor little hubby's life absolutely unbearable for a whole evening. Imagine a grown woman having the same tantrums as a 2 year old, but horizontally. Yep, that's what I look like during these "episodes".
Nothing incredible happened this week so I'm puzzled as to how zen has overtaken my life on bedrest. Maybe it's because I've spent a whole week being nearly contractions-free (oh wait, did I jinx it now??). Or maybe it's because I'll be 31 weeks tomorrow and that brings me a whole week closer to the Holy Grail of Pregnancy: 34 weeks. At 8 1/2 months, I can deliver at a regular hospital, not one that has a neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) and the Bean would not suffer from long-term health damages nor stay for more than a week or so in the hospital. Getting me there is Dr. G's ultimate goal. Any week further is pure bonus, according to him. And since the Bean has already gotten the steroid shots to mature the lungs, all is well in High-Risk Pregnancy Land.
Getting back t
o my new found state of zen. Could it be that I've be institutionalized?? Did bedrest break my natural rebelliousness? I'm very ashamed to admit it, but I'm starting to feel quite comfy on this bed. Being vertical brings all kind of aches and pains that - I am told - are common to the 3rd trimester of pregnancy. My back hurts too much, my feet swell and I waddle. Yes, waddling hurts. Well, it hurts my pride. I have turned into a sea elephant that's quite happy to lounge on the beach (couch) all day. I don't even know what I would do if I were suddenly taken off bedrest. Which I'm not even sure is going to happen anytime soon. When I asked my beloved Dr. G. about it, he wiggled his head in pure Bollywood style like only Indians can do and said "maybe". Hmm...what should I make of this? Is it maybe yes or maybe no?
Not that I really care anymore. All I would like is to be allowed to sit behind my sewing machine a few hours a day. Oh, and to go shopping for baby stuff. And a nice cup of (decaf) coffee with my girlfriends wouldn't hurt either! But as soon as I set foot on the ground, all these fantasies go out the door as I am painfully reminded of my huge and clumsy body. So it's back to the couch. Aaaah, that feels good...!
Nothing incredible happened this week so I'm puzzled as to how zen has overtaken my life on bedrest. Maybe it's because I've spent a whole week being nearly contractions-free (oh wait, did I jinx it now??). Or maybe it's because I'll be 31 weeks tomorrow and that brings me a whole week closer to the Holy Grail of Pregnancy: 34 weeks. At 8 1/2 months, I can deliver at a regular hospital, not one that has a neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) and the Bean would not suffer from long-term health damages nor stay for more than a week or so in the hospital. Getting me there is Dr. G's ultimate goal. Any week further is pure bonus, according to him. And since the Bean has already gotten the steroid shots to mature the lungs, all is well in High-Risk Pregnancy Land.
Getting back t
o my new found state of zen. Could it be that I've be institutionalized?? Did bedrest break my natural rebelliousness? I'm very ashamed to admit it, but I'm starting to feel quite comfy on this bed. Being vertical brings all kind of aches and pains that - I am told - are common to the 3rd trimester of pregnancy. My back hurts too much, my feet swell and I waddle. Yes, waddling hurts. Well, it hurts my pride. I have turned into a sea elephant that's quite happy to lounge on the beach (couch) all day. I don't even know what I would do if I were suddenly taken off bedrest. Which I'm not even sure is going to happen anytime soon. When I asked my beloved Dr. G. about it, he wiggled his head in pure Bollywood style like only Indians can do and said "maybe". Hmm...what should I make of this? Is it maybe yes or maybe no?Not that I really care anymore. All I would like is to be allowed to sit behind my sewing machine a few hours a day. Oh, and to go shopping for baby stuff. And a nice cup of (decaf) coffee with my girlfriends wouldn't hurt either! But as soon as I set foot on the ground, all these fantasies go out the door as I am painfully reminded of my huge and clumsy body. So it's back to the couch. Aaaah, that feels good...!
Friday, March 5, 2010
30 weeks
Ha! I mad
e it to 30 weeks! I honestly NEVER thought I'd make it that far but here I am :-) And I'm not even complaining about all the aches and pains of the 3rd trimester. Well at least, not too much.
The journey to get here has been long and difficult. And it's not even over yet. I've been having so many Braxton-Hicks contractions that I was convinced I'd go in labor at 29 weeks. I've spent 114 days on bedrest so far. My hips are shot, my legs are hairy, my face is puffy, my back is killing me but hey! I'm 30 weeks! I'd never thought I'd be happy to be in my 30's...
Quick Bean update:
Heartbeat is good (I should know; I check it every 10 minutes on my doppler), fluid levels are good, movements are good but a bit erratic due to my anterior placenta and growth is good. Bean now weighs 1.6kg (3 lbs 5 oz), which is double of my little boy and nearly triple of my daughter's weight. Oh, and my cervix whom I now love and revere measures 3.6cm, without any funneling nor dilation. Yipee!
The only problem is, things have been going so well that it can't possibly last that way. Can it? I keep waiting for something bad to happen. Oh, the journey of a high-risk subsequent pregnancy on bedrest...
e it to 30 weeks! I honestly NEVER thought I'd make it that far but here I am :-) And I'm not even complaining about all the aches and pains of the 3rd trimester. Well at least, not too much.The journey to get here has been long and difficult. And it's not even over yet. I've been having so many Braxton-Hicks contractions that I was convinced I'd go in labor at 29 weeks. I've spent 114 days on bedrest so far. My hips are shot, my legs are hairy, my face is puffy, my back is killing me but hey! I'm 30 weeks! I'd never thought I'd be happy to be in my 30's...
Quick Bean update:
Heartbeat is good (I should know; I check it every 10 minutes on my doppler), fluid levels are good, movements are good but a bit erratic due to my anterior placenta and growth is good. Bean now weighs 1.6kg (3 lbs 5 oz), which is double of my little boy and nearly triple of my daughter's weight. Oh, and my cervix whom I now love and revere measures 3.6cm, without any funneling nor dilation. Yipee!
The only problem is, things have been going so well that it can't possibly last that way. Can it? I keep waiting for something bad to happen. Oh, the journey of a high-risk subsequent pregnancy on bedrest...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
