I have about a million ways to start this post. I’ll try a few out on you…
1. Life must not be exciting enough for me lately…
2. It’s not a nice fall, after all… (I don’t like the rhyming, but whatever)
3. The babies clearly didn’t want me to watch the debate last night…
So last night I was walking into my class and right before I got to the door of the building, I was swept up by a giant wind (aka, my own clumsiness) and fell face first toward the concrete. I was able to get my arm and an elbow out, but I know at least part of my growing belly hit the concrete. I have no idea how hard or at what angle. All I know is that I immediately started scrambling, at least rolling to the side to get off of my belly.
I wasn’t hurting too bad. I could have been. It was quite the fall. I attracted about three passersby on a campus that has a total of five passersby at any point in time. I knew I should go to the hospital, but I wanted to at least tell my class what was going on. So I went upstairs, handed out the paper assignment and then left. I called the doctor and was instructed to go to the hospital for monitoring. I was warned…”You’ll be there for four hours. You can watch the debate or football. But just be prepared to stay awhile.”
Unable to get The Mister to answer his GD phone, I drove home first. Thankfully we only live about five minutes away from the hospital. After giving him a stern talking to for not answering my seventeen calls, we were off. We got to the hospital, got checked in and were put in the Labor and Delivery triage area.
This area blows. There was a small TV, but it was cramped and warm and the stretcher felt like hell. People are not meant to stay here for hours.
But we did.
Four hours to be exact.
Because we have created the most active babies known to man (only a slight exaggeration) who are not content unless they’re having an Interuterine Dance Party USA, they couldn’t use the normal monitors to track their heart rates. (They could hear them kick them like crazy, though.)
So every hour or so, the resident would have to come in and do an ultrasound. Meanwhile I kept the contractions monitor on to make sure I didn’t start having them.
Hour one was alright. I tried watching the debate, but I figured my blood pressure should be kept low so I turned on the Lions’ Monday Night Football game. Ha. Talk about disappointing.
Hour two was eh. I used the wi-fi to get on Facebook and Twitter for a bit. The Mister kept me updated on the score of the NLCS game via his iPad.
Hour three was starting to get torturous. The cots in this area are not made for long term use.
Hour four was Guantanamo Bay style fun.
I don’t think my back hurts from the fall…I think it hurts from the damn stretcher I was forced to lay on for four hours. It was freaking hot in there. I heard at least four women come in and get moved to the labor and delivery area ready to go. Not that I wanted to have my twins at 24 weeks, but I was jealous that they were there for that and not their own stupidity, as I was.
Finally, after midnight, they did the last ultrasound and we were good to go. The Mister and I took the dance party home. The dancing continued well into my sleep, but I was so tired that I wasn’t bothered by most of it. Plus, after you have a scare like that, it’s comforting to know that you didn’t do too much damage. I only woke up a few times last night and was able to get back to sleep pretty quickly.
Now I am going to space out for a couple of hours here at work after I watch the debate. These kids may think they got themselves out of this mess, but Ms. MEPS and others started a vigorous conversation on my FB wall last night that I must investigate. Plus, I have to set a firm example now…I’m the decider in this family.
And the decider needs a damn nap.