Getting used to bedrest

A year ago today, July 2, 2012, I calmly arranged work things from my hospital bed. I arranged to have an "away" sign put on the office door.  I am the only one who does my job, so I started negotiations with my bosses and HR to see if I could do some of my work from home or the hospital. One colleague outright refused to bring me ANY work and said instead she'd just come and visit  - and bring goodies for us to eat while watching movies.  Another volunteered with no hesitation to bring me in some files. I suspect because he wanted an excuse to also drop by and see how I was doing.

The work of arranging work, even though I didn't do much, was empowering.  I felt less hopeless, more in control.

Signs of labor had stopped, my bleeding was light. The doctors told me I would be on bedrest, either in the hospital or strict bed rest at home, until 34 weeks - the end of September. I was finding ways to make it all manageable.

In other moments I was still reeling from the dramatic shift from a normal healthy pregnancy to bedrest.  I wondered why my incompetent cervix (or preterm labor) didn't lead to a spontaneous delivery.  I wondered why, after two full term pregnancies, I was sitting in a hospital bed dilated with half the pregnancy to go.

About a year ago today I wrote this:

 I feel as though I ran straight off a cliff and on to a tightrope. The only reason I was running was that I didn't believe there was a cliff ahead of me. I was running on a rope 50 feet above the ground before I realized the cliff was there.

I keep glancing over my shoulder at that joint, that spot where the tightrope hits the cliff. My keeps head reeling with two questions: "How did that cliff get there?" and "How did I manage to run straight on to a tightrope?" The truth is, statistically speaking, I should neither have had a cliff on my path nor a tightrope to save my fall. I should either still be running on solid ground, or I should have fallen off the cliff I didn't see. This is what happens to most people.

I slow and the rope steadies. I am angry at the cliff for being there, grateful for the tightrope for appearing, and steadying myself for the long rope ahead.

I was so grateful to my OBGYN for encouraging me to go in to labor and delivery to be checked out.  And now that contractions were slowing, maybe I'd be able to make it another month or two or three.  Maybe I could have this baby.

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2013 
July 2, 2013 Today I went for a one mile run with my six year old, because we could. Since about a year ago, she looks for every chance she can to hang out with me. It seems nothing is more special to her than mommy time. I'm humbled, and sad at what brought about this change in her personality. Jonathan's journey was hard on us all.

JAM is about 13.5 lbs.  He hasn't been growing well over the last two months.  I guess his diagnosis as "failure to thrive" has some merit. I still hate the term.  He's thriving, can't you see??

Because of his surgery last week, he's a little more restless, so we've been waking up in the middle of the night again to comfort him and sneak in even more food.

This picture is from a bit over a week ago, from just days before the last surgery. Jonathan, 11 months old, chatting with the college kids.