Last week I went into preterm labor. I knew from the beginning of this pregnancy that I would. I just knew in my gut that I would although I didn't think it would be at 33 weeks.
I was dilated 2 centimeters and having contractions every 3-4 minutes. My doctor got the contractions stopped, gave me two awesomely painful shots in the butt to speed up the development of Addisyn's lungs, and send me home on bed rest until I go into labor again.
Secretly, some parts of bed rest are awesome. No more alarms in the morning, you can wear pajamas (or clothes that might as well be pajamas) all day, you can catch up on all those books you've been meaning to read, make good use of your netflix account, etc.
But I'm starting to discover that there are other parts of bed rest that frankly, just blow. For example, I'm sitting here with a list of 82 things I need/want to do right now and even though I'm on bed rest, I could do some of them (nobody would know!) and then I picture my sweet baby girl too scrawny, with tubes and wires attached to her, with an IV in her head all because I wanted to check off a few things on my ever-growing list of things to do.
Or explaining to your 4-year-old for the 8th time that Mommy can't do this or Mommy can't do that because Mommy needs to keep Addisyn in her tummy a little longer.
Or watching your exhausted husband come home from a long day at work, take care of your over-energized kid, figure out dinner, and then do all the other things, like taking said child to birthday parties and church and dance class, buying groceries, and running errands that need to be done because you can't do any of it. I'd suggest a support group for the husbands, but then they'd be too busy to receive any of the support.
Also, add in the paranoia that every little back pain, gas bubble, or normal contraction throws you into complete panic. "Am I in labor? Is this labor? No, it can't be. Is it? It really doesn't need to be. Should I call the doctor? Go straight to the hospital? Wait it out?"
Plus, there are only so many decent movies to watch on instant watch, only so much daytime tv one person can reasonably tolerate, and only so much sitting/laying that one can do before your butt really hurts.
I'm not trying to complain. Trust me. I know I am blessed each extra day she has in here to get a little bigger and a little stronger because there are babies that don't have those extra days, but the fact is, I'm on bed rest and sometimes, it sucks.
We've been so blessed with so many people offering to help. At the same time, it is so difficult to tell somebody, "Yes! I'd love to watch you come clean up the mess I've been avoiding while I sit on my butt and watch you." Or "Yes! I'd love for you to bring us dinner because I've neglected buying groceries to make meals for months." But the fact is, I may have avoided the mess or neglected the groceries but that doesn't make the need for it now any less and I certainly can't do any of it. Poor hubs, he's trying. He doesn't like accepting help from people when he is capable of doing it either, but I'm afraid I'm running him ragged. I mean, how is he supposed to get anything done when I keep sending him to get me ice that I can eat?
So here you have it, some thoughts from a crazy pregnant lady that has been benched for the rest of the game.