Cheers to both of us!
It's Day 7 past my premature rupture of membranes. Statistically, every additional day now that I remain pregnant, I am more likely to remain pregnant. Bring on the boredom! I welcome weeks stretching before us of waiting for my non-royal birth.
Nights are anything but boring. By now Tootsie and I are locked in a predictable pattern: I begin contracting regularly, every 5-20 minutes, around 10 PM till 3 or 4 AM. The contractions are painful, so I don't sleep much. I doze and listen to music until I need to clench a towel, breathe and visualize warm waterfalls, ride out each wave of squeezy uterus.
The nurses tell me to let them know if I have more than four contractions per hour, so I do, invariably around 2AM, and baby is monitored. "She looks beautiful on the monitor," they tell me, appropriately accelerating her heart rate when she moves around. "Her accelerations are like those of a 32-weeker," I was told last night.
Guys, she's Harvard material in accelerations. Atta girl, Tootsie!
I asked, with reservations, for something to help me sleep last night, and they gave me a Benadryl. It made me droopy, a little more Zen about contractions. I'm likely to repeat that request tonight.
By morning I'm exhausted but relieved to be 1) still here, and 2) relatively contraction-free. I'm going to try and sleep, and later take a shower. Busy day ahead, haha!
Girls are happily ensconced in Maine, where last night they dug for clams, explored tide pools,and picked wild blueberries. Husband is headed back to San Diego, hopefully for at least a week. He ran into one of our former students on the T this morning, and Mario helped him transfer to the silver line en route to the airport.
Yesterday I read What Happens Next, a YA novel sent by a friend about a girl who is raped and then keeps the incident and her susequent suffering secret. I recommend it.
Have a great Monday, Royal Baby Watchers and the rest of you normal people.
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