Almost There

After reading Sarah’s recent entry and realizing that she has way more going on than I do, I decided that there really is no excuse for the fact that I have not updated in almost two months.

I am feverishly trying to wrap things up at work, and it has been stressing me out to a great extent. Hence, my lack of updates or checking in on others’ blogs. I feel like I owe (to whom I am not sure—to myself? to the baby?) a thoughtful, emotional post that reflects on the last days of this pregnancy, most likely my last pregnancy (although that’s definitely a topic of another post). But the work is weighing heavily on me, and I don’t feel in a position to write something—anything—that really makes sense.

So here is the dull and dry update on what’s going on.

Baby: Still not here, but moving around lots, making it somewhat uncomfortable at times, but I can’t complain. I do enjoy feeling him move, even if he kicks my ribs or punches my cervix, making me wince in pain for a few seconds.

Me: Spike in my usually “barely alive” blood pressure around 36-37 weeks. Lots of blood and urine tests (including the lovely 24-hour urine test, which was both gross and comical at the same time). Results come back normal. BP still high a week later, so they begin to worry about preeclampsia. I am sent to the hospital for monitoring for a few hours. More tests. All normal. They send me home with another 24-hour urine test jug (fun!). Modified bed rest prescribed. The 24-hour test comes back with elevated protein levels, but not high enough to think about inducing labor. However, I am to remain on bed rest until the baby arrives. I begin panicking about work—my replacement doesn’t arrive until October 29, and I was planning on spending a week training her. I have so much to do before I leave. Stress is not good for my blood pressure, so it becomes a vicious circle—I worry about work that’s not going to get done, which raises my blood pressure, which makes me worry about the baby coming any day now, which makes me worry about work that’s not going to get done, and so on. The night of October 21, I wake up in painful contractions. I spend the next 90 minutes trying to figure out if there is any pattern to the contractions. I keep saying, “No, not today, I am not ready for this today, I need at least one more week.” And that’s when I finally—and suddenly, as if someone slaps me in the face—snap out of this ridiculous concern about work. I remember how much I wanted this baby. I remember how much I prayed that he be healthy. I remember how much I begged that he would have an actual birthday—not another unrealized due date. And I feel at peace. I feel so excited to meet him, so excited that this could be the day. My contractions fade, and I fall asleep.

My to-do list is still long, and it is still on my mind. But at this point, I am taking it one day at a time. I try to end each work day as if tomorrow I won’t be turning on my computer. The world will continue to turn if my work goes undone. I would still prefer to make it to November 3, the actual due date, but I am ready for my new little man at any time. I can not wait to meet him.