It's true what they say about staying in the hospital. It's uncomfortable, it's miserable, you don't sleep well and you can't wait for the day when you are released.
I felt these same emotions every day for the three long weeks I stayed in the hospital. It was miserable. However, misery was not enough to keep me from doing anything I could to keep my babies inside me. I wished every night that Logan could stay by my side, but knew this was an unreasonable request as he needed to get to work each day. He was sacrificing too.
After I stayed one night in labor and delivery, things hadn't worsened so I was told I would be moved to the second floor of the Women's Pavilion. Room 230.
My mom continued to indicate that she felt it was the best place for me as medical help was always nearby. I however, disagreed some. Her inclinations proved to be true as I was able to have my blood drawn right away to check for infection, have my questions answered immediately and in a moments notice get help.
My days became very routine. I quickly understood that five or six people would enter my room before 9am. First, Dr. Brown, then the CNA came in to to check my vitals, then the nurse to give me my meds, then the food service people brought me breakfast, then the housekeeping folks, then the food service would return to pick up my breakfast, then the nurses from labor and delivery would come in to check for fetal heart tones. I tried to sleep as much as possible in between all of these people, but found it practically impossible. Finally at noon the nurse would return to give me more meds and at my request would raise the blinds in my room to let some light in. I would text Logan and Mom to let them know I was up and they could come over.
I was unable to do much for myself. Bed rest makes your body rapidly weak. You'd be shocked. I was approaching my FIFTH month of bed rest. I lost my muscle quickly. I was not allowed to sit up, except to eat, and I was not allowed to lay flat on my back. So, for months I laid on my sides, switching from side to side every twenty or thirty minutes. You would be surprised to see how difficult and often painful it became for me to switch sides on my own. Logan and Mom always jumped up to help me do so. My body pillow was a saving grace and became glued to me for weeks. The calf cuffs I wore for weeks to prevent blood clots were always causing troubles and I needed help constantly every time I got up to use the restroom because I couldn't hook and un-hook them by myself.
I know my hospital stay was difficult on everyone. I was a bit grumpy and often unbearable I'm sure. Nevertheless, Logan, Mom and Vicky never gave up on me. Always there for support and anything I needed. They tried to lighten my load often and offered love and support for months. I can never repay them for their sacrifice.
I learned quickly that I didn't want much help from the services offered by the OT's and Rec Therapists. One specific morning the OT came in at 10am and asked "Do you want to play?" Man, if she'd of only seen my annoyed face. I could've clocked her at the time. I. Was. So. Annoyed. I turned over and told her that I didn't sleep well and that I wasn't interested. She could come back in a few hours. Needles to say, I never saw her again. She probably requested not to have to deal with me anymore, because I did see her co-worker, whom I much preferred.
You can imagine how boring it got. People offered magazines, I watched TV, I was offered my Ipad (which was too heavy for me to hold), Logan and Mom offered to play cards and the rec therapist even suggested a ride in my bed around the hospital. I always seemed to shake my head 'no'. Nothing appealed to me. I was a total beast.
In the hospital I got a shower every four days. It was heaven when I finally was able to shower. It was always a huge task though. I couldn't hardly do anything on my own (not bend over, not shampoo my hair, not get dressed and undressed), so Logan stepped up and helped me every time. I'm so thankful for him.
Many a nights, Logan, Mom and I would continue watching the TV series 'Lost'. We started it while I was still at home, and, thanks to Logan's efforts we were able to continue watching at the hospital. We stayed up late many nights to watch many episodes. It helped the time pass, for all of us.
I would have the babies fetal heart tones checked twice a day. There was never a problem with the babies' hearts. Over two days though, I started to feel the babies less and less. I was always aware of their movement, because they'd be bouncing around all over. I brought this up to the on call doctor and he went ahead and ordered an NST (non-stress test). I'd had this done a few times before, but it was always difficult to get the babies tones simultaneously because they were still so little. I think the nurse felt bad for me and didn't want me to sit there worrying about not feeling the babies so she asked the doctor if they could just roll in the ultrasound machine to do a quick scan--just to make sure. I appreciated her for that so much--Way to take the bull by it's horn nurse Jen! The ultrasound revealed two healthy heart beats. I was totally releaved.
Food. As if hospital food isn't bad enough already. I had no appetite at all. I hadn't for weeks. The only reason I ate was to feed our babies. That's the only reason. I received three visits from the dieticians asking my what they could do for me as the weekly menu became very monotonous. They offered food off of the grill menu instead, which helped some. They constantly encouraged me to eat more because I was only eating maybe half of my food. I knew my records indicated "poor appetite", because the nurse told me once. Logan and Mom were always willing to bring me homemade food, or food from a restaurant, but it all sounded terrible. I continued to try though, for the health of our babies.
I was very sensitive about this issue. I was constantly asked if I was hungry, if I needed something to eat, a snack? It was like trying to force feed someone who was sick with the flew for months. It was the first time in my life people were telling me that I wasn't eating enough. It got to me. I was trying--for our babies. Our babies were at a normal healthy weight but I know that pregnant women are supposed to increase their food intake. I however, struggled to do so.
As I laid in bed all day, whether alone or with people around, I continued to pray. I said more prayers in a day that I ever have before. I prayed for things small and large.
I needed my Heavenly Father to help me get through this.
