Good one, kiddo
We had a small incident yesterday. Everything is fine now. However...
Somewhere around late Tuesday afternoon I start noticing I'm not feeling much by way of fetal movement. I try not to fret. Wednesday, not much -- none *at all* of the big kicks and thumps I've gotten used to, and only a few intermittent flutters here and there. I continue to try not to fret. Yesterday morning I drink an orange juice and an actual real, caffeinated coffee with breakfast, on purpose... and still a lot of nothing. I check online, where I learn that I'm supposed to call my doctor for less than 10 movements per hour or any noticeable decrease. I call my doctor's office. The nurse tells me not to worry, and that these things happen sometimes, and every once in a while a baby gets confused about day vs. night. Heh. I hang up slightly less worried.
Five minutes later the nurse calls back and tells me she's just checked my due date and actually I need to go to triage at the ER right now. Now I'm seriously worried. I'm rapidly getting even more worried, in fact, because here I am in rather significant distress and the baby's not responding to that in the slightest, which must mean something's *really* wrong, and that puts me in still more distress, and... so, yeah, that makes for an interesting car trip. I accidentally park the car at the ER in what turns out to be one of the spots for valet parking. The valet glares at me. He sees my belly and my face as I get out of the car, and carefully recomposes his expression.
Turns out I'm going upstairs to maternity ward triage, not ER triage. I explain what's been happening; the nice people check me in, get me into a hospital gown and start hooking me up to all kinds of monitors. We hear a fetal heartbeat right away, which is hugely reassuring. A very friendly nurse hands me a little button to push when/if I feel movement, and JUST AT THAT MOMENT, in the midst of her explanation, the sprout lands a double-footed karate kick which booms so loudly in the monitor that patients in the next ward over pick their heads up and say "What was that?!?" During the next hour I spend hooked up to all the machinery the kid happily does aerobics, TaeBo and possibly a little Jazzercise while she's at it. The friendly nurse beams triumphantly over the "gorgeous" monitor output and assures me that I should not feel stupid or guilty, as does the sweet med student and the quietly amused resident (who has a little sparkly stud in her nose!).
So, hey. Now I know what the maternity ward looks like, and also that everybody over there is wonderful and helpful and kind. But, um... Sweetheart? Darling? Beautiful baby girl? I have to admit I admire your impeccable timing, but could you maybe please hold off on making your mother insane until after you're born, ok? Oy.
Somewhere around late Tuesday afternoon I start noticing I'm not feeling much by way of fetal movement. I try not to fret. Wednesday, not much -- none *at all* of the big kicks and thumps I've gotten used to, and only a few intermittent flutters here and there. I continue to try not to fret. Yesterday morning I drink an orange juice and an actual real, caffeinated coffee with breakfast, on purpose... and still a lot of nothing. I check online, where I learn that I'm supposed to call my doctor for less than 10 movements per hour or any noticeable decrease. I call my doctor's office. The nurse tells me not to worry, and that these things happen sometimes, and every once in a while a baby gets confused about day vs. night. Heh. I hang up slightly less worried.
Five minutes later the nurse calls back and tells me she's just checked my due date and actually I need to go to triage at the ER right now. Now I'm seriously worried. I'm rapidly getting even more worried, in fact, because here I am in rather significant distress and the baby's not responding to that in the slightest, which must mean something's *really* wrong, and that puts me in still more distress, and... so, yeah, that makes for an interesting car trip. I accidentally park the car at the ER in what turns out to be one of the spots for valet parking. The valet glares at me. He sees my belly and my face as I get out of the car, and carefully recomposes his expression.
Turns out I'm going upstairs to maternity ward triage, not ER triage. I explain what's been happening; the nice people check me in, get me into a hospital gown and start hooking me up to all kinds of monitors. We hear a fetal heartbeat right away, which is hugely reassuring. A very friendly nurse hands me a little button to push when/if I feel movement, and JUST AT THAT MOMENT, in the midst of her explanation, the sprout lands a double-footed karate kick which booms so loudly in the monitor that patients in the next ward over pick their heads up and say "What was that?!?" During the next hour I spend hooked up to all the machinery the kid happily does aerobics, TaeBo and possibly a little Jazzercise while she's at it. The friendly nurse beams triumphantly over the "gorgeous" monitor output and assures me that I should not feel stupid or guilty, as does the sweet med student and the quietly amused resident (who has a little sparkly stud in her nose!).
So, hey. Now I know what the maternity ward looks like, and also that everybody over there is wonderful and helpful and kind. But, um... Sweetheart? Darling? Beautiful baby girl? I have to admit I admire your impeccable timing, but could you maybe please hold off on making your mother insane until after you're born, ok? Oy.