I’m almost a week overdue now. Physically, no big deal. Moving slowly. Getting footrubs. Could be worse.
Mentally, I’m a little less at ease. I want to meet this little girl. I want to get on with it.
First thing yesterday morning, we had an appointment at the hospital to make sure all’s going well in there. Actually, they call it a “health campus.” It’s on a nature preserve. There are works of art and fireplaces everywhere and free valet service upon entering. Sometimes, there’s a musician playing the grand piano in the central hangout space near the lobby. The maternity unit’s rooms are relatively hotellike, with giant tubs for laboring and any necessary birth equipment hidden under discreet panels until there’s need for them. During your stay, roving volunteer aromatherapists, acupuncturists and masseuses stop by to offer their services. It just happens to be one of the nearby hospitals at which my doctor delivers. Lucky.
So, anyway, the ultrasound was first. The tech measured amniotic fluid and the baby’s heart rate, both of which were just fine. Then she looked for eight specific fetal movements, all of which she documented in a timely manner. She wanted to take a snapshot for us, but couldn’t get one of the little girl’s face since it’s so far down into position. Which has to be a good thing. We got a cute little foot-shot instead.
Next step: A nonstress test. For this, they circle two long elastic belts around your tummy to hold two discs in place to monitor fetal heartrate, as well as potential contractions, for 20 minutes or so. The first time I had one of these with Roy, they didn’t tell me that ideally, the baby’s heart rate will climb and then drop again quite a bit. So I sat there watching the number stay comfortably in the 130s awhile, then nearly had a heart attack when it skyrocketed up into the 170s. It soon made its way back down to the 130s. Relief. But then it started climbing again, and I was positive I was moments away from being rushed to the emergency room for an immediate c-section to pluck this overdue and overly stressed baby from my womb. Thank god a nurse came in to check on me and explained that those peaks were good. Exactly what they wanted.
So this time, I rested easy as my little girl’s heart rate spiked and evened, spiked and evened. All was just fine. Apparently, I had a couple of contractions, too, but I didn’t really feel them, so… whatever. Nothing to get too excited about.
Bottom line: No reason to speed things up, as the kid’s perfectly happy in there. Maybe a titch too happy. Wish I could flip on the lights and turn the heat down just enough for her to think that maybe it’s time to see what things are like elsewhere. As in outside of my body.
The waiting game continues.
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