Last night was awful, and I would probably write a detailed post about it were my eyelids not being fried by The Mag (all of the capillaries on my very white, clear-lashed eyelids have broken and my eyeballs are boiling. I have never looked more beautiful). The nurse who started my IV yesterday morning warned me that The Mag might make me feel I was being burned from the inside out, and unfortunately, it turned out to be rather an apt description. Computer screens exacerbate the problem, so this will be brief-ish.
For now, yes, Ames’ water remains broken, but I am stable, and on Magnesium and IV antibiotics. The doctors are hoping they can stave off infection/labor long enough to buy Simone a couple of weeks. They can’t do a transvaginal ultrasound or cervical exam because of the infection risk, so we are more or less in a semi-blind holding pattern, or what they call “expectant management.” They will probably take me off The Mag tomorrow, and start me on Nipefisomething. I can’t look up the correct spelling, and Scott will have to post this entry, because I am in my new room in the antepartum wing, where I will remain until the babies are born. And this room has NO WIRELESS. My old room had wireless, but this room, designed for women on long-term bedrest, has none. (There has been mention of “broadband wireless cards” that may be purchased, but I have a Mac, and Scott says they are not for Macs. Is this true?) Scott can pick up a stray wireless signal if he presses the laptop against the window, and in this way he can post things for me and download my email, but if anyone a better idea, for a homemade antenna maybe, please let me know.
We are holding up. Simone is monitored three times a day, and she hasn’t shown distress, though I worry every time she is off the monitor. She doesn’t move much because of The Mag, but on the Mag I have only a couple of contractions an hour, so until the crucial 24 hours since my last steroid dose have passed, I will merely fret and poke at her. I have no fever, despite the boiling sensation. So things are what passes for good, now. I wish I had a better idea of how much time I am likely to have now that I have ruptured—not that knowing will change anything, but still. Anecdotes, whether encouraging or not, are welcome.
I hope I am here a long time, and yet (selfishly) I am a wee bit nervous. They loaded me up with a maximum dose of sleeping medicine last night, a dose eight times that I have successfully used for sleep in the past, and I managed only the occasional 40-minute doze. I have barely mastered the art of sleeping in my own home, so I expect to be seeing trails and hallucinating Hugh Laurie within a few days of being hospital-bound all night.
I am simultaneously exhausted and on the edge of my metaphorical seat. My dear friend described this pregnancy as having turned into a sort of zombie movie: one improbable horror piled upon the next so that you find yourself thinking fondly of the time—was it just 20 minutes ago?—when less than 25% of the cast had been killed off and you still had your muscle shirt and your left hand. She said it much better, but trust me, it was exactly right. I should maybe mention that I have always hated zombie movies.
I hope to be able to write more after they turn off The Mag tomorrow and I feel less like…well, like I do now. But until then, thank you all. And those of you I know locally who offered visits? I just may take you up on that, as a stiff upper lip is so much easier to maintain with company.
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I’d so come visit if I lived closer. I’ve got all of you in my thoughts and prayers. We’re all out here pulling for all of you…
I’d so come visit if I lived closer. I’ve got all of you in my thoughts and prayers. We’re all out here pulling for all of you…
I am so relieved to know that you are stable, that Simone is not distressed, and that you are still posting. I’ve been thinking of you near constantly since I pulled up your post this morning after a few days away, and hoping so fervently for good news.
Wishing you all good things, including some sleep.
–Bugs
I so know what you mean about the mag. I had no idea when I was put on it that I wouldn’t even be able to *see* because the muscles in my eyes couldn’t focus anymore. Lovely.
I hope that at an absolute minimum it buys you enough time for the steroids to work on Simone’s lungs. And really, I hope that the bedrest buys you a whole lot more than that.
Stay put, Simone!!!! Mama really does know best on this one!
Holy hell Alexa. If you were willing to take me up on it I would FLY up there tomorrow, to hell with whether or not I am local. And that is not a joke or an exaggeration. I have credit cards. I know how to use them. I wanted to quit work anyway. So really. Don’t tempt me. After this nightmare of a situation you deserve the best of everything… not that I am the best, just that when someone is in as much need as you… how could I not offer?!?! I’d even sneak a Feral Kitten into your hospital room!
So seriously. Take me up on it. PLEASE.
In the meantime, so glad you posted and so very glad you are at least buying time.
We love you dearly and are supporting you as best we each know how. Hang in there!
Stay baby stay baby stay baby stay.
So glad the Mag is taming the uterus. Keeping you constantly in prayer.
Hooray for stable and hanging in there. My entire family asks me every 20 minutes to check and see if you have posted, and we are saying strong prayers for you, your husband and your babies. Simone seems quite the fighter, I hope she continues to grow and those lungs mature at Superman rate. How could they not have wireless in the long term bedrest area? Are they insane? Unfortunately, I know nothing about Macs, but I sent my husband out to the barn to build a giant antennae. Will let you know if it works.
I’m keeping you in my thoughts. It’s amazing the way you grow so concerned about people whom you’ve never met.
As to the mobile broadband…I think at least one of Sprint’s connects via USB and advertises that it works with OSX.
Would real, honest-to-God MAIL encourage you? I’d be happy to send something along. You’d just have to let me know where to send it.
Thinking about you all the time and hoping bedrest lasts the longest 10 weeks of your life. If not longer.
oh oh hooray stable! boo burning from the inside, and boo zombie movies.
hooray simone. stay, kick, stay.
much warmth and hope.
Encouraging anecdote….
My neighbor’s water broke at 24 weeks, she spent the next six weeks on hospital bedrest and she made it to 30 weeks (!) before she delivered. Here’s hoping the same, or better, for you.
So, the gal does indeed have the zombie movie pregnancy from the nether recesses of hell, she’s well-nigh fit to burst, so stuffed is she with pharmaceuticals, she’s fighting to keep strong and calm for her baby girl, and she can STILL post a post to end all posts: give her the Oscar, the Pulitzer, the Booker, and while we’re at it, let’s add a gold medal or two … or three.
Alexa, you rock, you roll, you give us all reasons to be cheerful (as Ian Dury once so melodiously put it).
We, your gang of virtual friends, salute you.
Zest is normally associated with the outsides of citrus fruits. I think it’s in your DNA – you may be exhausted, you may be at a very scary place, but your ZEST zings. That baby girl is going to have such a stupendous mum and dad.
By the way, I’ll be adding ZEST to the list of middle names I suspect you’ve been keeping from us.
That zombie metaphor is so very apt. Hooray for stability (relatively speaking.) Thinking of you as always. Grow, little Simone, grow!
I’ve been thinking of you and Scott and your babies all day. I feel like if I think of you as much as possible, I can force the universe to let Simone be born healthy & happy.
Lots of hugs.
-Heidi
I’m just catching up. Please know that thoughts and prayers are with all of you. I know the uncoming weeks aren’t going to be fun, but you truly are in the best place. Hang in there! I’ll be pulling for you.
Wish I could make it up there to see you, but since I cannot, I will type. And think of an anecdote to email you.
I’m thinking of you guys and wishing, hoping, and praying that you have an excruciatingly long bed rest. I’ll even hope for a bed sore or two for you, because THAT, SIMONE, THAT IS HOW LONG YOU NEED TO STAY INSIDE.
It’s too cold out, anyway, Little Lady.
Thinking of you and feeling a mite guilty that I so relish reading your words. Tonight, despite my relentless appetite for your stories, I am wishing you weeks of no news, a time not worth writing about as you simply wait prostrate, for such a time when Simone says that she is in fact ready and the doctors agree.
Take care, dear one.
Lots of love to you, Alexa, and to Simone, and please, baby, stay put. You can do it, 10 weeks, yes yes yes. Thinking of you all, all the time.
Have you joined Sidelines yet? It’s a support org for women on bedrest, and they’ll match you with someone else who had similar circumstances (and got through it). Like if the heroine of the zombie movie could call, halfway through, to some other zombie movie heroine whose movie was done. Not the same plot, but you know, she might reassure you that being brunette is a good way to survive the movie. That and not walking into a dark alley at night. Or something.
Anyway, here’s the link to the page where you request support: http://www.sidelines.org/request-support/ And here’s the phone number so Scott doesn’t have to hang the computer out the window to hook you up: (888) 447-4754 (HI-RISK4).
And I’ll check with J about your wireless situation and see if we have a solution. There must be one, there just must.
Sending lots of good wishes your way, and thanks for updating!
Delurking after more than a year of reading to tell you that you and your family are in my heart-this is my first blog comment ever but I just wanted you to know how much I am thinking about you and your little one.
zombie movies suck.
alexa, i’m rooting for you and simone.
Mag Sulphate is awful stuff. I am impressed you were able to write at all. Don’t be surprised if the side effects last a bit after you are taken off of it. Several hours later I was still dizzy and unable to be upright. But if it stops your contractions, it’s worth it.
You are doing a great job. I hope you are able to get some sleep.
Delurking to wish you and Simone well. I wish you an excruciatingly boring many, many more weeks of Simone in utero, baking to perfection.
I’ve read that female preemies generally fare better than males. I’m not sure why that is other than perhaps the extra genetic material on the “X” chromosome?
I have been fighting back tears all day thinking about you. So glad that things are stable right now. Just horrified by the events, Alexa, and truly in awe of your ability to keep it together metaphorically and non. Will be keeping vigil here along with the rest and help see you through this.
I’ve been thinking of you all day – I wish you all well.
Alexa,
You are amazing. You will pull through this. I’m praying for Simone to stay put.
Let me know where you are and I’ll bring your favorite food or whatever you want for comfort. Lots of love to you and Scott and the babes.
I wish I were closer so I could offer a visit. Of course you all remain in my thoughts and prayers. If I can come up with any good stories, I’ll be sure to share!!!
I am so sorry. I was burning up when they drugged me up during my preterm labor. too. It was January and below freezing and I made my family keep the windows open at night. They had a clock in the room that had the temperature on it and I would lay there with the covers kicked off watching it. I thought I was going to die if it got above 70. I am normally the kind of girl who shivers if it drops below 80. My water broke and they did transvaginal ultrasounds but they were loading me up with antibiotics in my IV. I lasted 3 days but that is only because I had a bad reaction to one of the shots they gave me and my lungs filled up with fluid. My son was born at 32 weeks 5 days a healthy 5 pounds. They coated his lungs with surfactant (sp?) when he was born to help with the breathing but he went home 16 days after he was born. I pray Simone can stay in that long as well. I read that every day a baby stays in after 24 weeks the chance of survival goes up by 3%. Every day. Just remember that. I know it sucks for you but you are helping her every day you can keep her in. Hang in there. My sister also had preterm labor with her twin boys. They kept her in the hospital for 2 months and the boys were born almost full term. I have story after story of people I know that had preterm labor, water breakage, placenta previa, you name it. Doctors can do amazing things these days. Try to rest if you can. I know its hard but its good for Simone. I’ll be thinking about you and watching for updates.
I’m so glad to hear from you and to hear that Simone has made it another day. Every single day makes a difference. Hang in there, Alexa. And know that we’re all holding you close in our thoughts.
Hang on Momma. Simone grow baby girl, we are all pulling for you and your big strong lungs. Wireless Gods, come on and blow your signal toward this Momma who needs a strong signal.
delurking to say i’m wishing you well and keeping my fingers crossed. hang in there.
I’m so glad to hear that you and Simone are ok, for now at least, and I’m hoping that will last a long while. I’m thinking of you from far away…
so very glad to hear that things are stable and your usual wit is back for the moment. I cannot bear to hear you are without broadband, what is that hospital thinking? I’m sure some local techie could devise a solution, set scott on it now.
HOping very much that simone has heard the voice of the collective internets and will stay put for a good long while.
I can’t think of anything clever to say, but I’ll keep thinking of you and hoping all goes well for keeping Simone inside a while longer!
Thank you for posting. All of us want a healthy baby for you so badly it hurts. I’m all for writing real letters too if you want to give us your bed rest locale. I’ll send loads of crossword puzzles and books on cd.
I hope that you are in bed for the next couple of months and that your days pass quickly.
So sorry about all that you are going through. I will be saying prayers and hoping that Simone can stay put a bit longer.
You can do it! You can DO IT!
Praying for you. And I don’t pray.
Somehow Simone belongs to all of us here who are hoping for her to be born. We want to keep waiting! Hang in there all of you.
Your baby has so many online godparents who are sending good wishes your way.
Praying hard.
What a relief to see your post today. Keep on keepin’ on.
SO glad our young heroine continues to avoid great peril. And I do so hope the twisted plot will ultimately lead to a happy (though bittersweet, of course) resolution.
Delurking to say, “Hang in there!”. I’m so sorry about the loss of your precious son. I’m praying for you and your daughter and a long bedrest.
I hope the broadband situation meets with a quick solution – everyday that you don’t post, I worry!
Have you had the opportunity to meet any of the neonatologists or the NICU nurses? Could they come to your room and give you a little primer on what to expect? (I mean what to expect when you deliver in 6 weeks, or longer).
As the mother of a NICU graduate, my advice to others looking ahead to a NICU stay is to remember that you are the parent. I felt so intimidated and flustered by my son’s medical equipment, that I just stood aside a little too often. In my mind, I still felt totally inadequate even when we took a healthy baby home. It didn’t lay the very best foundation for bonding, to say the least.
Have been checking in constantly today, and thinking strong thoughts for you. Hang in there.
Oh Alexa, I am praying for you and Simone. May you hang on for many weeks more. Know that someone as far as South Africa is thinking of you and rooting for you. Thanks for keeping us updated.
I had to check before I headed off to bed because I wanted to know that you and Simone were well. And you are. And I’m so relieved for you (even though I don’t even know you!).
My uplifting story is that my dad was born weighing 2.5 lbs. in 1927. And went on to live a full, happy life with zero side effects from his early birth. (He was a bit shorter than his two brothers, but still a respectable 5′ 11″.) Our neighbour had twin girls who weighed–as they describe it–2 lbs. of butter and 3 lbs. of butter. Today, they are the world’s most active four-year-olds, again with no side effects. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that Simone (a beautiful name, btw) outdoes them all!
Hang in there Alexa and Simone. I was so relieved to see your post today and want you to know that if there is anything any of us out here can do, we’ll do it. You’ll all be in my thoughts.
Okay, J has a maybe-possible solution to the wireless issue. Depending on how strong the signal is at the window, you may be able to get a thing called a Wireless Range Extender that you’d put in the window and it would relay the signal to your laptop. It’ll be cheaper online, of course, but a local computer store should have something, too.
I wish I could come set it up for you, hon.
Thinking of you all day.
You asked for antecdotes–woman on my message board had her water break at 21 weeks, and went on to have to be INDUCED at 38 weeks. Another woman on my message board had her water break at 28 weeks and went on to deliver at 34 weeks.
I’m hoping that you can be another success story!
Oh and a third antecdote–I saw a discovery channel/TLC documentary a while back with a woman in similar heartbreaking situation to yours. They delivered baby A (I think it was a c-section but not sure) and left baby B to bake for another 6 weeks on hospital bedrest.
Fingers, toes, eyelashes – everything crossed.
My anecdote is very peripheral, but maybe encouraging anyway… a now-good friend told me that his wife went into very early labor while he was out of town, and his one hope was that he would get home in time to hold his babies at least one time. He actually went into the cockpit of the plane and told the pilot everything, and the pilot got on the intercom and told all the passengers that they would have to keep their seatbelts on for the whole trip because they would be going so fast that it would be too dangerous for anyone to get up. The plane landed and hour and a half early. Of course, this was all in 1998, before homeland security etc.
My friend rushed to the hospital just in time to meet his wife as they wheeled her back to her long-term bedrest, where she remained for six weeks. They were dealing with twin-twin transfusion, and one baby was obviously not gong to make it. There was nothing they could do about that, which is of course the awful part of the story. But the surviving twin was born at 31 weeks, small but strong, and is now a very well mannered bright kid who scores winning touchdowns and plays a mean jazz piano.
Okay, I know that doesn’t have much to do with you, but at least maybe it distracted you for 21 seconds…
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