June 29, 2012, afternoon. I convinced my husband to take me to the hospital because I was having some pretty intense irregular contractions. So, off we went. I was soon admitted with pre-term labor. I spent a week in the hospital. The first night was the worst.
They pumped this stuff in me called magnesium citrate to stop the contractions. I don’t take IVs well in the first place. So first they gave me morphine for pain and phenagren for the nausea caused be morphine. With my arm on fire from that, they then gave me the magnesium citrate. It felt like I was on fire from one wrist, up my arm, across my chest, and down my other arm. I then proceeded to hold a plastic barf bag up to my face and tried not to dry heave. And of course, since I was in pain, I held my breath. Which made my blood oxygen levels plummet and the blood pressure cuff go crazy. Then (going to get a little TMI here for a minute) they felt a need to insert a catheter, after I repeatedly told them no, because I didn’t have to pee. After removing it, I screamed and cried and whimpered and tried to not to cut off the circulation in my husband’s hand for about 30 minutes. My step mom, who was my rock through this whole ordeal, was in Texas. My parents cut their vacation short and drove 6 hours to come be with me. By that time, the pain in everything but my arm had stopped. I was poked and prodded every four hours the first twenty-four hours, because of the magnesium. Then, I thought I was having contractions yet again, and they took my food away. Who in their right mind takes food away from a pregnant woman?! Did they want to die?! But, anyways.
After that I was in the hospital every weekend for a month, with no changes. Just irregular contractions. One time, a doctor told me that I could stay over night in the labor and delivery room I was in, if I really wanted to. I said no, wanting to sleep in my own bed.
Friday, July 13, 2012, 9 pm. (Of course it was the 13th. Just my luck right?!) My husband and I had just left the dollar movie theater after watching What to Expect When You Are Expecting. (Guys. If you haven’t seen this movie, I suggest you watch it ASAP. It’s a great movie!!) When we got in the car, I started having some uncomfortable contractions, but they weren’t regular enough for me to time. We got home and I went to lay down. Within about 30 minutes I was in tears from the pain. It wasn’t that it hurt really bad, it was uncomfortable and I didn’t really know what was going on. I’d spent a week, and every weekend for a month, in the hospital with no change. By this point I was beyond frustrated. I consulted this wonderful site, and they said to wait it out. I went against their directions and about 11:30 pm, I woke my husband up and back to the hospital we went.
My baby and his feeding tube.
Saturday, July 14, 2012, 5:30 am. My little baby boy decided to grace us with his presence. After almost ripping a nurses face off so that I could push, I finally got to meet the little boy who insisted on coming to join this crazy world earlier than he should have. They had gave me a shot for his lungs a month before so he was breathing just fine. Eating, however, wasn’t going so well. He had a tube in his nose most of the time he was in the hospital, and he was in the hospital for a week. That was the hardest thing in the world to watch. A nurse told me that we could only stay two nights in a room off the nursery. So, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday night, hubby and I drove literally 10 minutes away to our town house to sleep as much as we could through crying, just to get up the next morning and drive another 10 minutes back to the hospital. Friday, a doctor (my favorite one by the way) told us that he didn’t care what anyone said, we could stay as long as he was there. The next day he went home.
His smash cake. The box was like four times bigger than the actual cake.
Sunday, July 14, 2013, 2:00 pm. My little man’s first birthday!!! Now, this birthday party. It couldn’t be easy, ya know, since it was the first. Something HAD to go wrong. A week before the party, I moved it from Saturday to Sunday because my mother in law had a float trip on Saturday. She had already spent money on the float trip, meaning she had already bought the alcohol for the float trip. So, not very many people showed up to the party. But we still had fun! However, I ended up wearing more cake than little man did!
After he smeared cake all over his face. Yes, he looks like he ate a smurf.
Then he got done and stuck his pacy in his mouth.
After he got done playing in the cake, he had a bath and went outside with my in-laws. A few of my friends who came to the birthday stayed inside with me. I went to the bathroom and came out and had what was left of the smash cake thrown at me. I then proceeded to scream bloody murder because my friend’s wife scared the ever-loving crap out of me. The cake landed face up on the tile floor, so, of course, I grabbed and took off after her. And a cake fight ensued. After the cake fight ended and it was all cleaned up, my in-laws left and I noticed some cake sitting on the high chair still. My friend’s wife had her son laying on her, so we asked hubby to go around the corner to get her some potato salad. (Hubby was yet to be wearing any cake.) So I hid around the corner and attempted to smash cake in his face. I somewhat got him. But, I mostly just got potato salad smashed in my hair. Sadly, I do not have a picture of that. Potato salad smells horrible to me and it was all I could do not to get sick waiting to get into the bathroom to wash it out. But, I do have a picture of me wearing the cake!! So here ya go, laugh it up!! I sure did!!
The girl on the left is my friend’s wife and I’m on the right. Obviously, I lost the cake fight. I was laughing way to hard to really fight back.
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TheLifeandTimesofaMom 