Today was a hospital day, and guess what? I'm pooped. I'm sensing a theme here.
(I did not get a nap. That is the theme.)
Actually, today I was on the oncology floor instead of the maternity floor. I was momentarily (okay, a long moment) bummed because I dearly love walking down the halls and "spying" on baby names. I don't know if people do this all over, but here apparently it is a Thing - you have a lovely wreath on your hospital door that includes the baby's name. Some people just have wreaths, but some have names, weight, etc. I've been having fun reporting the names to Twitter. (First names only! Okay, sometimes middle names too but of course nothing else) It's been interesting to see what names show up. I am going to have to make up a little list...
But what's really cool about the oncology nurses is that they are 1) thrilled to have a healthy pregnant women in their midst 2) they do not mess around with my medication. They know exactly what to do and they're very happy to have a patient who is not going to puke on them at any given moment. The nurse assistant asked me "What are you doing here, walking up to your room like there's nothing wrong with you?" She saw me walking down the hall with my bag of books and Thomas's "Snoop" tucked under my arm. So I had to explain that I am really healthy and well, except for this pesky rare pregnancy complication that requires weekly IVIG treatments.
Today was an extra good day. My friend Brenda came to see me - with donuts! - and we talked and talked and talked. There is never enough time to talk about everything. Last night I had texted her and said she didn't have to bring SO many donuts as she did previously, because I didn't have time for gestational diabetes. And what happens today? THEY TEST MY BLOOD SUGAR. Right when I was eating a donut! It was too funny. My blood sugar was fine, but the hospital pharmacist guessed that the donut hadn't hit my blood sugar yet. I was happy to scoot in under the wire.
Of course, my Mama comes every week to be with me. Yes, she drives 2.5 hours each way to spend the day spoiling me. The first couple of times I ended up staying the night, so it was actually good to have someone there because it was not how I was *told* it would go. I feel guilty that she misses work to be with me, but I am oh so grateful for all the time we've gotten to spend together for the past 12 weeks. It's a gift, really - just time one on one, which is rare now that I'm a grown-up mama myself. We talk (usually me talking her ear off) and read Facebook and our books and take naps (very important) and eat. When the world was going off the axis with Carrie so sick, so suddenly, there have been many therapeutic crying sessions. We have sobbed and prayed together. And every week, Beaux leaves work early to pick Thomas up from school and then they come by the hospital to see Lovie and I before heading home for the evening.
BUT! today at 3 PM Beaux texted me to say he had a flat tire; to please call the school and send Thomas to after care. This was the second or third time he's had a flat (not on a Wednesday, thankfully) and he didn't want to drive the donut on the interstate - he drove straight to get a new tire, thankyouJesus- so Lovie saved the day and went to pick up Thomas from school. She just hated it, you know. And of course she's not very familiar with our city and got a wee bit lost but all was fine. I was so thankful she was close by for back up, otherwise I am not sure how we would have gotten Thomas without being a huge pain to someone else.
So, we had a wiggly little boy in a hospital room again, but he was really not as wiggly as last week. He was happy to color in his Spiderman coloring book and eat three satsumas and Lord knows how many grapes. He did his homework cheerfully and played with his plane from the treasure box at school. Beaux eventually came to get Thomas and to sit with us for awhile, to wait out the worst of the traffic.
I was out tonight by just a little past 7 PM, which is a new record. My medication got started at around 10 AM, so that lets you know how long it takes. I am incredibly lucky to be able to go spend the day in a private hospital room and to feel so well after receiving a high dose (1300 mL) of IVIG each week. I know I've never explained on here exactly what I'm dealing with - it's called neonatal alloimmune thrombyctopenia. There are big medical words that explain it, but basically my body (when pregnant) produces antibodies that attack the baby's immune system, which is what causes platelet levels to plummet (in the baby) if I had no treatment (IVIG plus predinose, which I started at 31 weeks - the IVIG at 20 weeks). Those of you who read the blog back when Thomas was born know what we went through - a scary helicopter ride, a dangerously low platelet count (10,000 - normal platelets are around 200,000: if platelets are too low there is a possibility to develop a brain bleed) and a few days in the NICU until everything was stable. We had no idea the first time, you can't know - it's such a rare condition that there is no screening for it. Thomas needed exactly the treatment that I am having now, so our hope is that all will be well when we have this baby at 38 weeks. It is standard protocol to induce labor early, and some babies come even earlier if they think there is a risk of the platelet count dropping. So! That's the whole enchilada, so to speak. And to think I was pooped when I started writing this...what I did I say about a second wind? I'm going to ride that second wind straight into bed with a book and see what happens.