Tuesday, February 12, 2008

The Ultrasound

Wednesday, January 30th, 2008… a day that will live in infamy (sorry, FDR). Had an early morning ultrasound scheduled. Was still PO’d at the tech for not telling me the weight last week. I mean, if you’re supposed to do a BPP (biophysical profile) every week, don’t you think the weight might be important?!?!

So, in I go. Everything looks fine. She’s measuring and calibrating. Heart rate is still in the mid-120s, something I need to know for the NST I have later that afternoon. Stick-It looks fine. His cord is NOT around his neck, the first question I have asked every tech at every u/s during this pregnancy. Then, the last question: "so, how much does he weigh?" Her response? "About 6 lb., 7 oz."

What the F#@&!?!?!?!

I, as calmly as possible, say, "Gee, he was 6 lb., 9 oz. TWO weeks ago. Are you sure that’s right?"

She responds, "I didn’t tell you that." "Yes, you did." She checks her computer. "Well, you know, ultrasounds can be off by half a pound. Everything looks fine."

Really, sweetheart?!?! Well, this ain’t your kid, your pregnancy, and you haven’t lost the previous two, have you?!?!

I leave the office, calmly, and immediately dial my mother. "Mom, he’s 6 lb., 7 oz. He was 6 lb., 9 oz. If I were still your patient (the OB/GYNs my mother worked for were my docs in my teens and 20s), what would you tell me to do?" Her advice? "Go to the doctor’s office right now and tell them you need to see someone. They need to review your reports right away." Good, that's what I was going to do anyway, but somehow having my mother-slash-the nurse-slash-the OB doc's daughter tell me to do it backs up my decision.

So, down one flight I go. I do not call DH, who will not handle bad news at all well. I figure I’ll wait until I know more, then if I need to, I’ll call him. I go to the counter, explain the situation, ask when Dr. Fav is in. Not until 9:00 a.m. is the response. It’s only 7:45 a.m. I ask if another doctor is available, and am told they’ll have one of the nurse midwives review my reports. They apparently call upstairs, because the next thing I know is that the u/s tech is in the waiting room telling me that she’s brought down both reports, which are now being reviewed, and someone will speak with me shortly. Gee, thanks, but I have the impression that 1) you aren’t too pleased that I have questioned you, and 2) you are now concerned that you missed something.

My name is called, and I meet with N., one of the nurse midwives. She tells me that Stick-It is okay, but there is some concern that his growth rate that was so great is no longer. She mentions that Dr. S. over in the hospital doing a section (I have no clue who Dr. S. is), and that K., another nurse-midwife, will meet me in L&D. They want to just run some tests, and possibly do an amnio to check for lung maturity. She hands me the two u/s reports, telling me to take them with me to L&D, as it will be faster than them faxing them over. I am still in a fog. I’m now apologizing to N. for appearing to be a worrywart, and explain that we had lost Jimmy four years ago this coming Monday, and that I just am being cautious. It doesn’t dawn on me and she is describing procedures that indicate their concern as well. Instead, I am just relieved that they are taking my concern seriously and not putting me off like their tech seemed to. I ask N. to please let Dr. Fav know I’m here and what’s going on. N. reassures me that he will be informed the minute he comes in the door. I cling to this thought, as I somehow know that Dr. Fav wants this baby to be born alive and healthy as much as we do. Being the granddaughter of an OB/GYN and the daughter of an OB/GYN nurse, I can tell you that most of them do mourn the losses their patients experience. Then again, from dealing with all the different docs during the last five years, I can also say that Dr. Fav is one in a million and really does care.

Back to my car to get my personal bag. I have a bag filled with work stuff, a personal bag with my calendar and phone numbers, and another bag with various odds and ends. I call home, but realize that at 8:10 a.m., DH is at the bus stop with DS#2. I call his cell, and tell him that I need him to come to the hospital, that everything’s okay, but they want to run some tests in L&D based on his u/s weights. I call my mother back and am more straightforward: "Mom, I need you to come to the hospital now. They want to run more tests." I get weepy for a moment then realize that I am within 100 yards of the hospital with Stick-It still kicking; we have a chance that he’ll be fine. The last call? To my office, of course. M., the part-timer, is the only one in, as E., my counterpart, has taken yet another day off. My boss isn’t coming in today, so it’s just M. and the other Dean. I tell M. that I should be in at some point, but they’re sending me into L&D for more tests, as Stick-It’s weight seems off from the u/s. She wishes me good luck and tells me to call when I know more. I am now in the main door of the hospital.

Into the elevator, and pressing the button for the L&D floor. Open the unsealed envelope containing the two u/s reports. Hey, they're my records, right, so I can review them if I want. Even to my untrained eye, something is not right. Stick-It’s abdominal circumference is smaller, his weight is down (and they’ve circled it on the report from today), and many of his measurements are only days ahead of the previous reports, despite being 14 days apart. Now I get weepy again, and sense the worry rising in my throat. Take a deep breath and wipe my eyes, reassure myself that we’ll both be fine. I report to L&D, and the woman at the desk who I have dealt with so often when checking in for my NSTs thinks I’m there for another NST. I tell her what N. told me, and she calls in. She then hands me my file to bring onto the unit, which I find interesting. I am taken to L&D Room 8, and hooked up for what I think is another NST. Stick-It is moving around as usual and his heart rate is good. My BP and pulse, on the other hand, as at all time highs: 130/73 and 91 respectively. Normal for me is 90/60 and 60. And the parade starts into my room: DH, looking gray and nervous; my mom, smiling, telling me that everything is going to be okay; a variety of medical personnel. One of the other nurses I’ve had before for an NST appears. Having been for 11 previous NSTs, I’ve gotten to meet a number of the nurses. Seeing their faces calms me down. M., another nurse who used to work with my mom pops her head in to say hi.

Then K. appears and introduces herself. She tells me that they’ve reviewed the reports, and Stick-It is scoring 8 out of 8. Passing my NST will make it 10 for 10, and the NST looks good. Then she tells me that Dr. Fav is in, and is clearing his schedule, and that he’ll be over. They’ll be taking me in to be sectioned at 10:30 a.m.

HELLOOOOOOOOO?!?!?!?! No, you must be wrong, because I’m scheduled for next Friday to have this done at 9:00 a.m. I’m not ready NOW! I’m not packed. I’m supposed to be at work. Stick-It is only 36 weeks, 6 days. I don’t even have my damned glasses or my case for my contacts.

Monday, February 11, 2008

Things Bubble Over

Hard to believe it's been two weeks since my last post. My concerns regarding both my boss and DS#1 came to a head the next day. My boss got a ride in with the other Dean from our office suite, who was BS when they finally arrived at 9:30 a.m. It seems, according to his assistant, that my boss had agreed to have him pick her up at 8:30 a.m. However, when he arrived at her house, she wasn't ready, telling him to give her "a few minutes". Twenty minutes later, he was still waiting in his car for her; she didn't even have enough common decency to invite him in to wait for her. Most of the day was spent with her in meetings and giving me a list of stuff she needed immediately. I was able to get her everything she needed, and had had the smarts to phone her at 8:00 a.m. to remind her to bring in her external hard drive so that I could back up my computer files for her. The best part? This backup does not contain any of the forms or files that I personally created and used. Things like the office manual that she demanded I write up, despite that not being part of my job, I removed from those computer files to my personal thumb drive. She has a paper copy, but that's it. I even ended up staying late to back up my system Tuesday (1/29) and removing a bunch of personal computer files from my computer.

Which leads me to DS#1 and everything finally coming to a head with him. I got home late that Tuesday (luckily my Mom and Dad were available, and had picked up DS#2, brought him home, fed them dinner (which DH had already made before going to work), and they had had their baths. My Mom and Dad both commented on how out of sorts DS#1 seemed. When they left, DS#1 came in to talk to me, and ended up in tears, sobbing about a nightmare he'd had the night before that we'd lost this baby, that he didn't want me to have surgery, he didn't want me to have to be away from home for four nights, he was scared that something might happen to me, some kid at school had been teasing him about his "girlfriend", he had just switched to a bunch of new teachers and wasn't sure he would do as well as he'd done the previous two quarters, and so on. I just held him while he cried, trying my best to reassure him that we were doing everything we could to bring this baby home healthy and safe, and that I didn't want to be away from them either but they could call me and come visit me and the new baby every day, and we talked about school and the other kids. He finished having a good cry and went to bed.

I finished folding all the baby clothes I'd washed the day before, and the next morning, before my 7:20 a.m. ultrasound, I put them in the dresser in the baby's room. I also had all my toiletries gathered on the top shelf of our linen closet, and my two old nursing nightgowns, my nursing bras, and my granny panties already in my half packed suitcase. My mother's nagging for me to have my bag packed kept resonating in my head, but I figured I would:
- color my roots Wednesday night,
- finish out the week at work, telling folks know after my OB appointment on Thursday that I was only working three more days,
- DH and the boys and I would finish getting the house ready over the weekend,
- I'd schedule a bikini wax for Saturday,
- the following Thursday my mom, who convinced me NOT to work until the day before my scheduled C-section, would come over and help me finish getting the house ready,
- and finally, on the morning of Friday, February 8th, I would report at 7:00 a.m. for my scheduled 9:00 a.m. C-section.

What's that saying? Oh yeah... "the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry" or something like that, from Robert Burns "To A Mouse". Well, I now know EXACTLY what that means!