I was reminded this weekend about how fucking scary it is to carry twins. Up until this point, I have been living life as usual. And as usual meaning, as I usually do without even being pregnant. Except for the whole sobriety thing. That blows. But I have been acting as if my life was nothing short of "normal" and nothing could stand in my way of being Captain Mom and Do It All Dolly.
Friday kicked my ass.
I ended up being admitted to Labor and Delivery around 3:30pm, having real, actual contractions. What I thought initially to be Braxton Hicks nonsense, I quickly came to realize was far more than that when they were coming every minute or so throughout the entire day.
I called my OB and she scheduled me for a quick office visit. She strapped me to the in-office monitor and bam. Contraction after contraction. She whisked me off to Labor and Delivery to determine what exactly was going on. They hooked me up to a thousand and one probes, stuck an oversized q-tip into my lady bits to take a sample and sent it off to the lab for testing to see if labor was "imminent". In the meantime, the nurses are trying to assess every explanation. Are you dehydrated? Well, I drink the weight of a small elephant in water every day and spend more time wiping myself than doing work in any given day, so no. Are you stressed? Have you ever had a three year old while being pregnant with twins, work a full 40 hours a week, have a side business, and try to maintain sanity two weeks out from Christmas? Have you had any bleeding? I'm pretty sure that I would have told you that YESTERDAY if something was flowing out of my vagina that shouldn't be.
A multitude of ultrasounds, internal exams, vaginal swabs, heart beat monitoring, and thirty five thousand cups of water later, we still don't have a real answer as to why it happened. My doctor did say that she had a patient pregnant with triplets recently that had the same issue and was admitted several times for suspected preterm labor and it turned out the acrobatics of multiple humans inside one uterus caused the uterus to contract. Who knows if that's my case, but apparently I need to put down the once-a-day Coke and return to my regularly scheduled diet of water and more water.
I was given a shot in the back of the arm to stop the contractions which ceased within 60 seconds. It did bring on feelings of my heart racing and being completely out of breath, which I was told is common. I was discharged after about 5 hours and we headed home. I did have a few contractions the next day, but nothing consistent like it was on Friday.
Could it happen again? Probably. I am most certainly anticipating it. Bed rest? Not yet, but after Friday, I'm pretty sure that's on the horizon too. This Captain Mom needs to learn to take a fucking chill pill and not try to do it all (this as I am currently obsessing about how bad the bathrooms need to be cleaned).
Carrying any baby is serious. Carrying multiples is a whole nother ball game. I have to keep these babies baking as long as possible. Friday scared the living shit out of me and slapped me back into reality. I have to relinquish control. I have to take a temporary leave of absence from the land of I DO IT ALL and let Mother Nature do her business. If these babies were born on Friday, there is no way they would have survived. I am only 21 weeks.
From here on out, it's going to be a slow down of epic proportions. Baby G and Baby W need to bake. And bake and bake and bake. No more hospitals until their birthday. I promise, Mom.