Wednesday started just like any other day; I woke up, worked for a bit and prepared myself for little Jimmy to wake up. I had forgotten he spent the night at my parent's house and was going to stay there all day while I took a much needed day off to rest. After doing a little work, I plopped down on the air mattress and enjoyed a book for awhile. Later that afternoon, a nurse came by to get my home monitoring system set up. While she had me sign paper work and explained all the different ways to send my hour long monitoring sessions in, I was hooked up to a monitor and watched the contractions come and go. After just 40 minutes, she checked the machine and noticed I had already had 6 major contractions; 6 was the maximum I was allowed in a hour. She had me drink water and rest for 20 minutes before beginning another session. I did the second session and then sent my results in. A nurse called not even 5 minutes later with a sense of urgency in her voice.
"Mrs. Fraser, are you aware you had 11 contractions in an hour?"
"I know I had a lot, but I wasn't sure how many exactly," my voice trembled as I answered.
The nurse asked if any were painful and I explained that a few felt crampy and definitely labor-intensive. She immediately called my OB's office, who instructed her to tell me it was time for a visit to Labor and Delivery.
I was frustrated. I knew going into the hospital would cost money and time and I wasn't sure they would provide much relief, in all honesty. I hadn't showered yet that day and Jimmy wasn't home, so I made the calls to both sets of parents and jumped in the shower. I packed an overnight bag, just in case, and by the time Jimmy got home I was ready to head out. To the hospital we went.
They got me into triage within minutes and hooked me up to a monitor. My contractions had slowed, but I was now dilated to 1 cm, whereas the day prior my cervix was still closed. They ran a variety of tests and began a round of shots to help calm the contractions. The shots were not only painful, but they made my heart rate sky rocket. I had trouble catching my breath, my entire body shook, and I suffered terrible head aches. The maximum amount of shots I could have to settle the contractions was 3, and it took all 3 to space them out to 15 minutes apart. It was approaching 9 p.m. and the contractions were still very painful. The on-call doctor was calling all the shots, which made me nervous because it wasn't even my primary OB. The shots didn't help the contractions so I was admitted for 23 hour observation. I groaned at the idea of spending the night - alone. I hadn't eaten since lunch. My stomach was turning and I knew some of the contractions were because of that. I begged every nurse in the hospital to just give me crackers, but they were under strict instruction not to let me eat in fear that my labor may progress.
I had an IV in my arm that was pumping continuous fluids into me. Not only was I starving, but I couldn't sit up in fear that the pressure would be too much on my cervix, so my back began to hurt. I finally sent Jimmy home because he had work the next day and there was nothing he could do to help the situation. A million thoughts swirled through my heads as the nurses started talking to me about NICU and what happens if a baby is born that premature. I cried from the pain, from starvation and from fear. At midnight they gave me the last line of defense, pain killers, before administering magnesium-sulfate, a drug that would make me very sick and was the only hope of stopping the contractions. Luckily, the pain killers put me to sleep and relaxed my body. At 3:30 a.m. I awoke abruptly to painful contractions and called in the nurse. We tried one more round of pain killers and if that didn't work, we would pull out the big guns, but it would be at an expense.
I was relieved when I woke up at 6 a.m. to less painful contractions and the hope of getting to go home. All I was waiting on was a visit from my doctor, which we all presumed would be around 7 or 7:30 a.m. He never came. Hours passed and the contractions continued, but spaced out, and I felt my body weakening from hunger. My mom was gracious enough to come sit with me for a few hours and endure my ranting about how upset I was that my doctor had not called or stopped in to check with me. I needed something to eat and I was still not given the ok. Finally, the doctor approved food at 1:30 p.m. and I scarfed down everything that was brought my way.
When my doctor did show up, we were in the process of trying round two of meds to relax my uterus. My contractions were far and few, and the best part was, they weren't painful anymore. I knew eating had something to do with it. After a whole two minute evaluation from my OB, I was granted permission to go home. I'm still on strict bed rest, but now I have medicine that will help relax my body when contractions do come.
That 24 hour period was one of the most difficult in my life. I had to be away from my son, and I feared for the safety of Jackson. I wasn't sure what would happen or how my body would respond to anything we were trying. I was also very disappointed in my doctor and his apparent indifference to the situation. As I found out later, the entire situation could have been prevented had I been prescribed the medicine at my appointment the day prior when I expressed the fact that my contractions were still painful. Needless to say, the nursing staff at Memorial Hermann applauded me for coming in, especially since my body was beginning to dilate and was putting up a major fight in stopping the contractions.
So, now I'm home. I have meds, a monitoring system, and instructions to be on my feet as little as possible. I can't tell you how nice it is to just be home and able to shower, hug my son, and sleep in my own bed.
I've been praying very hard for God to keep Jackson safe. I know it may seem insensitive that I was frustrated at the thought of going to the hospital, but from previous experience it is an expensive option that doesn't always produce positive results. I know Jackson and I were in the best of care, but I was still unaware of the measures that would be taken to prevent labor. I feel incredibly blessed that so many prayers came our way and God answered them by getting us both home safe. I can't explain it, but I have this instinctive feeling that Jackson and I can make it 6 more weeks no problem. This kid is a fighter, but I think I can keep him safe and sound until 36 weeks. God is in control.
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