Christmas Eve - 30 weeks - and my worst nightmare come true

So, a follow up to my previous post. The swollen ankles. At the time, seemed bad, but were easily explained by the day's events.

Well, apparently not so much.

I went to work on Tuesday, and was admittedly very agitated and stressed. Got some news about some bonuses being issued to very undeserving managers and that there was "no bonus structure in place for someone in my role," so I was heated about that. Plus I arrived down at one of our Chester properties and the manager was sick as a dog with a sinus infection and had only JUST started her Z-pack a few hours prior. Great. Thanks.

I took my very comfy slip on clogs off to wiggle my toes, get the blood flowing, and once again noticed excessive swelling. I knew this wasn't normal, or right. So I called the doctor, just to see what they said. I had my regular 30 week appointment scheduled for the following Monday, but just in case they felt like it was worthy of me being checked out, I called. And they brought me in at 4:30. They took a urine sample, and weighed me. I had put on ELEVEN POUNDS in the two weeks since my previous appointment, which, is not normal pregnancy weight gain, especially in someone who is clinically overweight like myself. The doctor explained that the fluid retention was the cause of the edema (swelling) and the extremely high levels of protein in my urine were all major pointers to pre-eclampsia... a syndrome that my mother had when she had me, and that is somewhat common in many first-time pregnancies, especially when the patient has a family history of it. For those reading who are unfamiliar, here is more information: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pre-eclampsia

Anyway - the doctor prescribed I do a 24 hour urine collection test, which was a real picnic, lemme tell ya... and I had to bring the specimen to Phoenixville Hospital at 8 am on Thursday morning for analysis. Little did I know, the analysis consisted of several hours of waiting, blood draws, Non-Stress Tests, and tears.

My blood pressure at the impromptu appointment the other day was higher than normal but not a concern to the doc at the time (which is a miracle considering how pissed and flustered I'd been at work that day), but today when they took it, it had jumped CONSIDERABLY. To the point where they were talking about transporting us to CHOP due to the severity of my situation. But they wanted to wait until a few more lab results came back from the blood work before they formulated a plan.

So around 11 am, Dr. Cantarella (who happened to be on call here all day, Thank GOD) came in to my room and informed me that, not only would I not be going to Boston next week for our little "babymoon," but I wouldn't even be leaving the hospital, and I was to go on immediate strict bedrest, and be under constant supervision. She also started spewing out really scary phrases like, "pre-term delivery," and "30 weeks is a little early, ideally we'd like to be at 32 or 33." Um, ok... so how do we do that?

We keep Lindy confined to a crappy hospital bed on Christmas Eve indefinitely, and just take her blood pressure and urine samples every five seconds until we decide the baby has to come out.

Scary thing about that... the baby's lungs are nowhere near fully developed. After all, I do have 10 weeks to go... 7 of which are critical until i'm considered full term. But with preeclampsia, it's terribly dangerous for the mother-to-be to go to term, so typically they induce as soon as they feel the symptoms can no longer be controlled. My doctor doesn't choose to treat with medicine, only bedrest. And very depressingly... the bedrest HAS to be hospital monitored. I can't even go home and rest there... I have to be here. I only wish I'd known as I walked out the door this morning with only the clothes on my back and my purse that it would be the last time I'd be seeing my house for many weeks, if not months... *gulp* I certainly would have given Sammy a much bigger hug and kiss and grabbed a few of my personal and comforting effects. Luckily, Dave is a gem and ran around the house like a maniac bringing me the things I need (hence, why I am blogging about this now, from my beautiful laptop) but still... it would have nice to have been able to prepare myself a little bit for this trauma I am now going through.

So, I lie here, on Christmas Eve... staring up at the lonely mini tree my parents lovingly brought for me to try to dress up my room and half listening to 'A Christmas Story' on TV. Next to that tree is a beautiful picture of my little fluffy boy sitting with Santa Paws... and I am doing everything in my human power not to break down and cry every few minutes. I do realize that I have to do EVERYTHING in my power to keep calm and collected so as to keep my pressures down and not jeopardize Natalie, but... it's really hard. It's so lonely. I want to be at home on my couch, watching Elf snuggled under too many blankets, with Dave asleep at my feet and Sam asleep on the floor an arm's length away. Instead, I'm here. And I'm sad. And hoping this doesn't spiral into a much deeper depression as my head is haunted with all of the thoughts of what may come and the dangers we may face, with not only my health, but my poor baby who may be premature... ugh. I just can't do it. But I have nothing else to think about, and sleep is just not happening. That's a guarantee.

As Mr. Garrison would say, Merry Fucking Christmas.

Home for the Holidays my ass.