Thursday, January 31, 2008

"Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air, we wawl and cry." *

All that contracting and pressure and ouchies, and so out of breath last night that I couldn’t even sleep, and I am still only 1 cm. SO unfair. But my blood pressure was waaaaaayyy up – because today’s appointment and next week’s appointment had been cancelled – NOT by me – and my chart was missing.

Remember when I told you – did I tell you? – that I told H that he had to remember one thing, that I was strep B positive this pregnancy? And he said, “Well, it’s not as if it’s not in your chart. And how am I supposed to remember that?” And I glared at him and said, “*I* will be in labor. Surely you can remember ONE MEASLY LITTLE THING if I ask you to.” (He looked suitably abashed and mumbled, “Yes, but don’t call me Shirley.”) And there I go this morning, with NO CHART.

No wonder my normally lovely low blood pressure was 140 over 100. But they found the chart and resolved the appointment issue – turns out that the fact of a simple phone call – by me - to suss out the situation at my old doctor’s new practice was enough to cause appointments to be cancelled and charts to be moved, even though I had signed no release forms or cancelled any appointments my own damn self. Jesus Crisis.

When they rechecked my blood pressure before sending me home – no closer to labor than when I’d arrived – it was back to normal. So, I am still contracting, and am still hurting, and can’t breathe, and am very very VERY grumpy, and can’t even think about food, but I am apparently NOT about to have a baby, say, anytime in the next 24 hours. Dammit.

I zipped through The Wednesday Wars last night, though, so must replace that on my hospital stack. I LOVED it. I want to own it, will definitely reread it, and it prompted me to hunt down a copy of The Tempest to reread. I don’t know what happened to my pretty little blue clothbound Yale Shakespeare volume, but I dug out one of my volumes of the teeny red leather Works of Shakespeare – the ones that turn my fingers red, like dyed pistachios do - and started in. (I wasn’t about to lug around my Riverside.) So yeah, I am such a dork that I lay in my doctor’s examining room on my left side, waiting for my blood pressure to decrease, and read Shakespeare.

I thought I had more to say but in the hour since I started writing this post, I have started experiencing what may well be real contractions. So I'll wrap up now and go lie down. And wait for H to return from the car dealership. I called him at work and asked him to bring me a vanilla milkshake, but apparently he got distracted and is bringing me a blue minivan instead.

*************

*King Lear, Act 4, sc. 6, 179–180

9 comments:

Caro said...

I hope you are at the hospital right now. Happy labor!

tut-tut said...

I hope so, too!

blackbird said...

Yep.
Not seafood, not sex, not castor oil.


EVERYONE knows that minivans start labor.


I'll be thinking of you alllll night.
(I'm not kidding.)

TLB said...

And what's wrong with Shakespeare for lowering the blood pressure? A proven commodity!

Good luck, and godspeed.

paula said...

Yes, Godspeed and hoping for an easy labor, sweetie.

Katy said...

A minivan? Wow, so you're really expecting a baby human and not something else? Godspeed with labor, and I hope that you get a real baby and not, you know, a chicken or something.

jessmonster said...

I ought to reread The Tempest, too, but all I've got is my Riverside. Doesn't exactly slip into the purse easily.

Hope that wherever you are and whatever's going on, it's going well. And I can't tell you how curious I am to have the boy/girl question answered.

Katya said...

I really hope you are in the hospital right now having that baby. I loved The Tempest and would read it again but like Jess all I've got is my Riverside and it's so heavy.

Bec said...

Shame about the blood pressure coming back down again - it's usually a great shortcut to induction...

I could send your BP up again by saying something like "Haven't you had that baby yet?" if you like. After all, I've been gone for months and you've still only got three kids!