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Friday, September 16, 2005
No title for this early morning tale of freak-outitude
I thought I was going to meet my son last night. I was so scared. But I didn't cry. I just repeated a simple prayer, over and over again:
God, please let my son be alright. Please, please, don't let my body fail him now. Please. Just let whatever this is stop and let him get bigger and healthier and stronger. Please, save my son from my body. Please.
At around 12:30 am, I went into the bathroom for one last pee. Everything felt fine and seemed fine. Until I looked at the TP and it was soaked with bright red blood. The words "Oh my God" came out of my mouth (and not that loud) but immediately woke Mr. W who was half dressed in the 5 steps from his side of the bed to the bathroom door where he looked at the TP in my hand and hit the speed dial button for my doctor on the cordless phone in his hand. We told the service what was going on and said we were going in.
The verdict is that I was not in labor in any way, my cervix appeared closed (though it was not manually examined, by touch, for fear of causing more bleeding). Things looked good. All tests showed no evidence of an impending introduction to the little w. The bleeding was gone after that one instance. The irish L&D nurse kept me calm and I really hope that she's working when I go for real. The bleed is assumed to be the result of the way that I had to move around to have Mr. W shave my legs (I can't reach them well and can't really see them to know if I've managed to actually do the job, but after about 3 or 4 weeks of no shaving? I felt gross and wanted that hair GONE.)
And now I have to throw on clothing as my weekly appointment is at 9:30 and we have to leave. NOW.
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