A Time to Rest...Bed Rest

After we finally convinced the doctors that yes we would be continuing our pregnancy and yes we understood the likelihood of a 'dismal' outcome, we were told I would need to be on bed rest for the remainder of my pregnancy. I was immediately admitted into the hospital to start IV antibiotics in an attempt to stop any infection. After I completed the course of antibiotics, I was able to go home to start bed rest until I hit 24 weeks or the magic viability point to most health professionals. I came to hate that word 'viability'. I knew my baby was a baby and not just a fetus. I mean he had a strong heartbeat and moved around. I wanted the doctors to see my baby as a person and not just a thing that could cause a bad infection in me, but apparently that wouldn't happen until 24 weeks. Of course the doctors reminded me that the chances I make it past a few days without going into labor was slim to none. Though if I made it to that point, I would be admitted into the hospital and given steroids to help the baby's lungs develop. This made 24 weeks seem like miles away, however we knew that if we could even have one hour with him, it would all be worth it and told the doctors so.

I was allowed to go home after the antibiotics were completed with strict orders to check my temperature every 4 hours and immediately come back to the hospital if I started to feel crampy or sick. I was warned that if I showed signs of infection, I was to be induced no matter what as neither I nor the baby would be able to survive the infection untreated. I wasn't worried though because as a total germaphobe, I spent my whole life preparing to fight the battle against germs and infection.

The reality of bed rest was not something I was prepared for. As a pretty active person, having to lay down and only get up for bathroom breaks was pretty hard. I had to rely on my wonderful husband and awesome mom for everything. Though this may sound like heaven to some people, this is pretty much a form of purgatory for a Type A control freak like myself. I had to learn to be happy even if they didn't do laundry the way I would or put things away where I would put them. I felt like I had 24/7 babysitters with my husband during the day and my mom at night while he was at work. Everyone put their lives on hold in order to take care of me and fight for Landon's life. My husband and I began to relate our lives to the TV show Lost. It felt like we were on the island while the rest of the world continued to turn. We wondered if there was an alternate universe where my water hadn't broken and we still had a normal pregnancy. Our lives were now on hold, but for a very worthy cause.

I was also dealing with the guilt of leaving my teammates at work high and dry during a busy time for our team. I was truly lucky to work for such an amazing company as Google and for such amazing people as my team- the BIM team. Not only did they provide me with their thoughts and prayers, but sent multiple gifts of food and a gift card to help us with meals while I was laid up. They made a horrible situation a little less horrible. On top of it, the generous maternity and disability coverage made it possible for us not to worry about money and just focus on keeping my baby in for as long as possible.

After a few weeks on rest, I began to fall into a routine and see the positive side of the situation. I picked up a few daytime TV shows (Wendy Williams and The Doctors) and even a soap opera (General Hospital). After lunch, Ryan and I would watch chef Gordon Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares. We especially liked the episodes where Gordon shut down the restaurant because it was so gross. More importantly, I was able to take the time to really connect with my baby. Before this happened, I was go go go and didn't take much time to slow down and think about the reality of being a mommy. I was able to learn my baby's personality long before he made his appearance. I knew he didn't like it when I laid on my left side, and he loved when I ate or drank sugar (a baby after my own heart). We began to call him Little Lion Man because I swear he would kick to the beat when I played the Mumford and Son's song of the same name.

A week past and then 3 more and I actually made it to 24 weeks. It had been hard, every day I woke up and wondered if today was the day I would go into labor or get an infection and every day my crazy baby stayed put. We were happy to get admitted to the hospital and get the steroid shots that could really help give my baby a chance when he was born. However, once we were admitted, the doctors performed a growth scan and announced that even though we made it to 24 weeks, the baby's growth had slowed dramatically and he really wasn't big enough to benefit from any lifesaving measures if he were to be born at that point. We were devastated, we made it to the magic 24 week number and now it wasn't good enough. We were told to go back home for another week while he grew some more.