Fair warning: I am in a foul mood today. I’m not sure whether I want to scream or cry, but I’m liable to do either at any moment.
The mood is the main result of the doctor’s appointment today. While it was basically confirmed that BabyN did drop as I suspected, the monumental news was treated with less enthusiasm or worry than the weather. Apparently, that doesn’t matter in the least. I also mentioned how different things “down there” felt this morning, so I was checked for dilation again. Nope, I’m fully closed, which means I must be crazy to have felt whatever I felt. (Seriously, it felt so different, like BabyN could easy drop right out of me when I stood up and maybe even if I didn’t.) Even the dimple from last week was gone, which means I’m even farther from giving birth than we thought last week.
They asked about the contractions, of course. I admitted how rough things were last night and got chastised for not going to the hospital. What the…? I’m sitting in front of them still pregnant with a closed cervix. Obviously my gut that I wasn’t in labor was right. When the nurse-practioner was finally done getting after me for following my gut, she decided to try to figure out why I keep having Braxton-Hicks. Isn’t that the million dollar question. She finally came to the conclusion I was dehydrated.
She came back in the examination room with my doctor a minute later, as though she had told on me. Then the two of them together ganged up on me to get after me for my drinking habits. First, if it really is that I’m dehydrated, then why couldn’t this option have been presented weeks ago, before the terbutaline, etc? I remember my doctor asking about that when I first brought up the contractions, and after a list of everything I drink in a day, she decided that was plenty. Now that’s not plenty? I don’t get it. Oh, and did you know that anything other than water does not count towards your fluid intake in a day? I can drink milk and juice all day long (actually, I do), but apparently those liquids do nothing to keep me hydrated, according to my doctor. They didn’t want to listen to my explanation that drinking much water actually makes me nauseous. Yeah, when I start puking up all this water I’m being forced to drink now, that’s really going to help the hydration. Idiots.
So I’m not on bedrest yet, even though I’m fully expecting to be on it next week when they realize that dehydration wasn’t my problem after all. To be perfectly honest, I’m kind of disappointed I wasn’t put on it this week. The easy, partly honest reason for that is that I will actually have a whole week of true bedrest this week and this week only. By the time they decide that’s my last resort next week, my mom will be getting ready to leave again, and I will only be able to follow their orders on weekends when M’s home to help out. The most honest reason, though, is that I’m just tired of all this. I have no energy anymore, ever, and I need the break. Even when I start getting bored and sore from lying down all the time, it will be better than chasing PJ around (because M won’t very often, even when I’m supposed to be resting) and feeling guilty any time I’m letting somebody else do the work I know I should be doing. I don’t want to do anything anymore, and I need the excuse to take a real break.
Sorry for the downer of a post today. Apparently I have no lack of pregnancy hormones rushing through my system, making me capable of overreacting to anything and everything. But even recognizing that overreaction doesn’t make it any easier to get rid of the frustration and disappointment.