Hospital Update 11/19
The moment I’d been dreading finally happened this morning. Every time I leave my car to walk into the hospital, I take a mental snapshot so I can always remember things they way they were. Last night, my mental photography did me no good as when I left the hospital, I forgot where I parked.
I found the car after a minute of searching. I’m surprised I don’t lose my car more considering I’m horribly drowsy from trying to sleep at night on a fold-out chair in a hospital room equipped with approximately 11,230,498,084 flashing lights and strange noises and frequent nighttime visits from staff checking to see how we’re doing and inquiring why we don’t seem to be sleeping better. Also I have to find several different parking spots everyday as I make several trips to and from the hospital everyday.
I’m settling into something resembling a normal routine. I wake up at the hospital and ask Ellie if anything has changed since the last time I asked her,* which was when I got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. We spend quality time together until just before lunch, at which time I go home to switch places with her father. That way I get to feed Abbie her lunch and he gets to spend quality time with his daughter.
I stay home cleaning, cooking, and doing other things to unwind until late afternoon when I take Abbie to visit her mother. Abbie spends her 30-minutes-per-day-visits wandering around the room, generally ignoring her mother, and whining that we won’t let her play with the two things that interest her: The IV pole, and the commode.
I take Abbie home, feed us supper, clean some more, then switch places with my father-in-law again. He takes care of the Abbie’s bedtime, and I get to make another trip to the hospital. I settle on my chair next to her, ask if anything has changed since the last time I asked her,*** and we enjoy more quality time together.**** The next morning we start all over again, except her father left this morning, and my mother will take his place for a few days.
Everyone in the hospital is doing fine. They’ve stopped giving her magnesium through the IV, and the contractions have slowed to a non-alarming rate. If the contractions stay dormant, they’ll send her home (hopefully) Sunday for an exciting (hopefully) several week long vacation of bed rest. That’s assuming I can find my car when it’s time to drive her home.
P.S. Thanks to everybody leaving their support in the comments. Hopefully we won’t need much support for several more weeks.
* It hasn’t.
** I read, she plays solitaire.
*** It hasn’t.
**** I read, she plays Snood.
I found the car after a minute of searching. I’m surprised I don’t lose my car more considering I’m horribly drowsy from trying to sleep at night on a fold-out chair in a hospital room equipped with approximately 11,230,498,084 flashing lights and strange noises and frequent nighttime visits from staff checking to see how we’re doing and inquiring why we don’t seem to be sleeping better. Also I have to find several different parking spots everyday as I make several trips to and from the hospital everyday.
I’m settling into something resembling a normal routine. I wake up at the hospital and ask Ellie if anything has changed since the last time I asked her,* which was when I got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. We spend quality time together until just before lunch, at which time I go home to switch places with her father. That way I get to feed Abbie her lunch and he gets to spend quality time with his daughter.
I stay home cleaning, cooking, and doing other things to unwind until late afternoon when I take Abbie to visit her mother. Abbie spends her 30-minutes-per-day-visits wandering around the room, generally ignoring her mother, and whining that we won’t let her play with the two things that interest her: The IV pole, and the commode.
I take Abbie home, feed us supper, clean some more, then switch places with my father-in-law again. He takes care of the Abbie’s bedtime, and I get to make another trip to the hospital. I settle on my chair next to her, ask if anything has changed since the last time I asked her,*** and we enjoy more quality time together.**** The next morning we start all over again, except her father left this morning, and my mother will take his place for a few days.
Everyone in the hospital is doing fine. They’ve stopped giving her magnesium through the IV, and the contractions have slowed to a non-alarming rate. If the contractions stay dormant, they’ll send her home (hopefully) Sunday for an exciting (hopefully) several week long vacation of bed rest. That’s assuming I can find my car when it’s time to drive her home.
P.S. Thanks to everybody leaving their support in the comments. Hopefully we won’t need much support for several more weeks.
* It hasn’t.
** I read, she plays solitaire.
*** It hasn’t.
**** I read, she plays Snood.
posted by Matt at
3:57 PM
1 Comments:
When it's finally time to have those two, don't expect to get any more rest at the hospital than you're getting now. We couldn't go 20 minutes without someone coming in to check on the babies, the mother, give us food, ask us if we wanted communion (seriously), fill out birth certificate forms, etc. They all said the same thing when they left, "Get some rest now!"
We had planned on staying as long as possible but left as soon as we could - we needed the rest!
I'm glad to hear things have slowed down. My best to you and your family!
By
Childsplayx2, at 6:50 PM
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