Do you smell that? Part II
Where was I? Oh, yes. The shampoo.
At my early 30 something week ultrasound, it was found that I had too much amniotic fluid. My doctor told me I had polyhydramnios. A normal amniotic fluid index (AFI) is between 5cm and 25cm. That day my AFI measured 46cm. My doctor was a little concerned to say the least. Well, I, having no knowledge of polyhydramnios (or polly, as I like to call her), did what any freaked out pregnant mom would do. I came home and looked on the internet. If you are to ever take anything from this little blog hobby that I do, please let it be this. NO MATTER WHAT THE CIRCUMSTANCES, NO MATTER HOW FREAKED OUT YOU ARE, NO MATTER HOW MUCH OF A KNOWLEDGE-HUNGRY-GOTTA-KNOW-SOMETHING-ANYTHING-TO-HELP-ME-COPE -WITH-THIS-UNBELIEVABLE-NEWS-ABOUT-THE-HEALTH-OF-MY-BABY MANIAC YOU ARE - DO NOT, I REPEAT, DO NOT - GO ON THE LOVELY WORLD WIDE WEB TO RESEARCH MEDICAL THINGS. You will always find the worst , most horrible information on there. Every.Single.Time.
Ok - I’ll move on. I was sent to a specialist and had a few high-resolution ultrasounds. She was looking to see if the cause of my polly was baby-related. 65% of the cases are not. Pretty good odds, right? I even got to take home pictures of little Tot from a 4-D ultrasound. One of the fun things about polly, though, is that she can cause you to go into preterm labor. Preterm labor with too much amniotic fluid is not a good combination. Doctors are scared that you could encounter placental abruption (not good), that your cord could prolapse (double not good), and that you could hemmhorage (probably not good either). So, when it was found during a non-stress test at my regular OB’s office that I was indeed in active labor at 33 ½ weeks, I was admitted to the hospital that afternoon, and we all pretty much thought that I was going to have a little Tot quite soon. I was given magnesium sulfate to help slow down my labor so that the steroid shots in my hips would have enough time to help mature Tot’s lungs.
On a side note, magnesium sulfate was one of the most horrible things that I have ever endured. And I’ve had brain surgery, and have been paralyzed and on life support, folks. I’m not inexperienced when it comes to bad things happening to a person. I ain’t gotsta lie.
Anyhoo, the magnesium sulfate did indeed work, and my doctor decided it was best to transfer me to the nearby hospital where my specialist practiced. There was not a NICU in my local hospital, and they wanted to be as prepared as possible. Well, I loved this doctor. She was very matter of fact, very down to earth, great bedside manner, funny, and altogether just a great lady. Her intentions were to have little Tot stay inside my belly as long as possible. So on hospital bed rest I spent the next almost 2 weeks. And I am not a very patient person. I do not like to have to stay in one place for long periods of time. (Being paralyzed for a month a 15 can do that to you.) So, my lovely nurse told me that after the foley catheter was removed, which she was going to do, I would need to use a bed pan if I need to “go.” Well, you see, I don’t do bedpans. I don’t “go” in my bed. Just won’t do it. So, I pitched a fit. I wouldn’t let them take out the catheter until I could speak to my doctor. Who I loved. Seeing as though I was quite adamant about not “going” in my bed, she gave me bathroom privileges. This may not seem like a big deal to most, but to me, is SO was.
Shampoo, shampoo, I hear you chanting. I hear you, and I’m getting there. With bathroom privileges comes shower privileges, seeing as though the potty and the shower are both in that same room. Well, when I went to the doctor for a simple non stress test, I didn’t quite expect to spend 2 or so weeks in the hospital. So, on various trips back and forth from home to the hospital, different family members had brought me different necessary items. One of those items was the shampoo from my mom. I was allowed to wash my hair. So when I smell this shampoo now, I am first taken back to that hospital shower where I think of how scared and alone I was. And huge. Did I mention how huge I was? I think of all of the thoughts that go through my head as to what mine and Tater’s future holds. Will she be okay? Will she live? Will I be okay? Is Tater okay? My husband? My parents and in-laws who have in an instant become full-time parents to a 13 month old? I prayed, I bargained, I begged, I pleaded, I cried, and if I thought that the bathroom wouldn’t immediately be filled with panicked nurses, I would have screamed.
To Be Continued…