After the ultrasound, David went back to the waiting room and they took me back for the OB part of my appointment. Even though I was only 32 weeks, with two babies, the uterus is stretched to a point where it feels like it's 35 or 36 weeks, so that meant it was time for cervical checks. The NP came in, and we started talking about my blood sugar readings over the last 2 weeks. I wasn't particularly happy about them, I felt they were creeping up to a higher point than my usual normal, so we discussed changing the testing frequency from twice a day to four times a day and seeing if we can find any trends. We discussed potentially adding Glyburide at bedtime to help control the fasting blood sugars, but that would mean having to come in to the office twice a week for checks and non-stress tests. I said I wouldn't be overly thrilled at that idea, since it's already difficult to leave work once a week to come in, much less having to do that twice a week. So we decided to give it another week, check sugars four times a day, and call the numbers in to the nurse and go from there. Having that plan in place, NP asks me to lie back and she'll check my cervix. That's when life stopped for me.
NP checks my cervix, look at me, and asks if I've been having any contractions. i told her that I had been having what I classified as Braxton-Hicks contractions for several days, and I did have one true contraction the day before where I had to start my timer, but nothing after that, and really nothing since then. Then she says, You're 4 cm dilated, and one contraction didn't get you there, so I think that what you think are B-H contractions are really the real deal. We have to change our whole plan of attack. I sat up and asked her what she was thinking, and she said, I'm going to have to admit you. What?! My heart and mind began racing as I conjured images of babies in the NICU with tubes everywhere fighting to survive and I wanted to cry. I had to physically force myself to settle down and actively pay attention to what NP was telling me. She said she didn't think I would be leaving the hospital without delivering some babies; she was also quick to reassure me that given the measurements and results we got from the ultrasound earlier, she was not worried about survival. The babies would survive if they were born now, but they would have to spend some time in NICU to work on their breathing and feeding. She said when I got to the hospital, they would give me two doses of steroid, 24 hours apart, to help the babies' lungs mature. They would then put me on monitors to see how often my contractions were occurring, and then see if I needed any medication to help stop those contractions. I asked her how emergent this admission was; did I have to go directly to the hospital from the office, or could I go home and finish packing the bag I had about halfway done and park my car. She said, go home and pack, park your car, and have your husband take you to the hospital. But I will be calling them now and letting them know you are on your way.
Needless to say, I don't remember the drive home. I know I called work to let them know what was happening, and they would need to find someone to cover my shift the next day. When we got home, I went upstairs, took a couple of deep breaths and tried to focus on what was already in my bag and what I still needed. I remain impressed with myself that I didn't forget anything important. When we got to the hospital, they checked me in and showed me to my room. After that, things happened pretty quickly. I was given the first shot of steroid in my hip, had a dinner tray, got put on the monitors for the babies and my contractions, had my IV started, and was placed on a magnesium drip to try to slow or stop my contractions, which at that point were coming every 2 to 4 minutes. They checked my cervix again, and did not note any change in dilation.
After being on the monitors for a while, the OB resident came back in and said that they've changed their minds on the steroids since my contractions were coming so frequently, and they were going to give me the second dose in 12 hours instead of 24 hours. Not surprisingly, I did not sleep well the first night. Between the contractions, the monitors slipping every time I changed position, and having to call a nurse every 2 hours so I could be unhooked to go to the bathroom, I think I slept no more than 2 hours at a stretch, and probably no more than 5 hours total.
The rest of the weekend passed by uneventfully; I got the second dose of steroids, finished up the magnesium drip, and made it to 33 weeks. I'm still having contractions, but not nearly as frequently or as strong as when I got here. The doctors still haven't made up their minds yet on whether I will remain in the hospital until delivery or go home on bed rest. Either way, I'm done with work until after my maternity leave is over. I am hoping to go home, but I will do whatever the doctors think is necessary. I don't care as long as my two pumpkins are born healthy.
I feel like this experience has been a wake up call for me. With my first pregnancy, I worked up until the day I delivered, and had no issues. I think I naively convinced myself that this pregnancy was exactly the same, just with two babies instead of one, and I could keep go go going just like last time and I wouldn't need to slow down. Being told that you're in premature labor and have a very high probability of delivering two babies 4 or 5 weeks before they were supposed to be here is the wake up call that I apparently needed to finally throw in my towel and say, yes I do need to slow down, and yes I do need some help. I'm just glad to be able to say that as of this morning, I am still pregnant and currently 33 weeks and 1 day. We are taking things one day at a time. My goal is to make it to next Monday, which will be 34 weeks.
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