Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Ok, just in case I didn't mention this, IF Baby Jones is a boy (we don't know), his middle name will be the same as his father and paternal grandfather's middle name, and his some-number-of-greats-on-VNB's-side grandfather's first name - Alexander. Plus it's such a great book, and the title was very fitting to yesterday, that we're going with it for now. But that doesn't mean that we know the sex of the baby, because we don't. And that's all you'll hear about his/her name too.

Anyway, on to yesterday...or the days before really....

Looking back (and with a _MUCH_ clearer head than I had yesterday), I can see some signs that might mean I was fighting some type of infection Sunday and Monday...but there was nothing overly significant to really catch my attention. I just didn't sleep much Sunday night, which made me feel bad enough that by the time I _got_ to work on Monday (very late), I'd decided to come back home. After a nap, I thought I was doing better. Still, VNB and I took it pretty easy Monday night.

Tuesday morning, I'd slept better (although still not well), but I was running late, as usual. So when I finally convinced myself to fight the bed gravity, I did what all pregnant women do - I ran to the bathroom to relieve myself. While wiping, I saw what all pregnant women fear most - blood. Not a lot, but definitely fresh blood.

Knowing that this is a SIGN YOU DON'T IGNORE, I called our midwives' emergency line. I gave the lab tech the info and she said the midwife would call me in a few minutes. Then I called VNB and told him what was happening and that I was waiting for the midwife to call back. Then I called my mom and Aunt Mom and left (apparently very frightened-sounding) voicemail messages for them to call me back ASAP. My poor mom, being at school, couldn't call me (I was coherent enough to leave my number (which is just a button to her on the phone at home), but it didn't occur to me that it'd be long-distance, so she wouldn't be able to call back), so she called my dad and sister (who were both home for fall break) to get them to get more info. But she spent a while in agony, I'm sure, wondering what was wrong and with whom.

Anyway, so the midwife called and we talked through my symptoms and she said that I should put in a pad and she'd call back in 30-45 minutes to see if there'd been any more bleeding. She thought that it _probably_ wasn't an emergency, but this would let us know with at least a little more certainty. So I did that, then called VNB back (he'd called twice while I was talking to the midwife). Sweetie that he is, he was literally already on his way home. Sure, there was a big guy from headquarters coming the next day that they had to prepare for, and sure he's currently doing like three peoples' jobs...but one teary phone call from me that something _might_ be wrong, and five minutes later, he's in his car on his way home. I know I mentioned the other day how great he is, but it definitely bears repeating.

Then there was nothing to do but wait. I didn't have to lie in bed or anything, but I really wasn't good for that much, so I ended up just sitting in our Lay-Z-Boy. Monkey (the cat) very astutely climbed onto my knees and lay down, purring. No attempts at getting me to pet her, no rubbing of any kind. She just climbed up, laid down, and purred. There is very little in the world that is more soothing than a cat who is actually not being needy.

I'd like to say that I spent this time singing praise songs or reading my Bible or something similarly "religious," but I didn't. Mostly I sat there talking to my belly, telling it to kick its mamma. Baby was always very obliging, if a little weaker than normal. I couldn't really think much past that and trying to stay as calm as possible.

But the time finally passed and the midwife called back and there hadn't been any more bleeding, so it probably wasn't anything serious. We could get an ultrasound to see if the placenta had moved or something, but otherwise, there was really very little they could do to try to figure out what had caused it. Medically, she thought I was fine to go to work. Emotionally, she thought I was fine to stay home.

About that same time, Aunt Mom called back and got the scoop, then Elianna called and while I was talking to her, my dad called and VNB came home. Poor VNB was very patient in letting me field phone calls before he'd even gotten the whole story. But he finally did get the whole story and we talked about the sonogram. Since it wasn't necessarily going to show us anything (the bleeding and pain weren't ever anywhere close to bad enough for it to make the midwife think it was a placental abruption or previa, which were the only things that the sonogram _would_ be able to show), and since we'd basically have to go to the sonogram place and sit there, hoping they had a few minutes to fit us in, we decided against it and in favor of just taking the day off.

We both had conference calls for work we could sit in on from home, so neither of us lost the _entire_ day's work, AND we (mostly he) ended up getting a lot of the house back in order (it was still a mess from moving everything out of the nursery for redecorating - not everything has found a new home yet). That was a BIG stress reliever for both of us.

I spent most of the rest of the day in my bathrobe, forcing myself to eat and go to the bathroom when I needed to. Part of me would rather just not look than see that there might be more blood, but I'd always convince myself to go eventually, and there was never anything there to be worried about. Occasionally, someone would call to check up on me (or I'd have visions of emergency c-sections and months in neo-natal intensive care for a baby born three months premature) and I'd get a little teary again, but mostly my brain just rested and regrouped.

Eventually VNB and I went out for dinner, then spent a nice, quiet evening in. I think I might have finally found a pillow combination that is actually conducive to sleep, so after a few minutes of feeling like I was too wide awake to ever sleep again, I blinked and it was like four hours later. That convinced me that I _could_ sleep, and I did (very well) for the rest of the night. Today VNB and I are both back to work, like normal, and I feel fine. Baby is back to kickboxing as hard as s/he can (and that's pretty hard, let me tell you), and the day that started out so terribly, turned out for good.

I'm still very glad that it's over though. And I hope that we never have to do that again.