In Which I Regulate.

I am too tired and giddy to write much, but let me tell you just a little about my day:

This morning I spiked a fever and started contracting every 2-4 minutes. It was determined that I had an infection, and would have to deliver. I was given a very kind sponge bath. The doctor, who commutes here to the Twin Cities from LAGUNA BEACH CALIFORNIA (yes, really) and looks like a Grey’s Anatomy character, all tanned muscular arms and gleamy teeth (McGleamy?), came in to discuss what seemed to be a fast-approaching C-section. Then Simone had a horrible, prolonged decel, they put me on Oxygen, and my room filled with people. Simone’s heart stabilized and ultrasound revealed that she had turned head down. It was decided it would be better for me give birth vaginally, though I was still not allowed food or water, just in case. What was certain was that I would give birth, and soon. Depending upon my temperature and contractions, they might decide to do something to “promote delivery,” which sounds harmless, like a leaflet campaign, but I assure you is not. My bed and belongings were wheeled to labor and delivery, Simone remained on constant monitoring, I contracted, they took my temperature every hour and told me I would not be allowed an epidural because of infection, families were called, survival rates were sobbed over, and then, tonight…

My temperature went back down. My contractions slowed. Simone remained stable. My latest white blood cell count came back normal. And the doctor walked in an hour ago and told me Gleamily that I had developed a bacteremia, but that my body had cleared it.
My immune system smacked that bitch down. And so Simone gets to stay in for another day.

“We are in a data-free zone,” they tell me. I could get another week, or more, or I could deliver tomorrow. They are keeping me here in Labor and Delivery overnight, but if I am stable in the morning I will move back to the antepartum unit to resume my grateful waiting.
I couldn’t make this shit up.