Well, THAT WAS FUN!
The long version is...long. Yes. The short version: decreased fetal movement, spotting, back pain. Quick jaunt over to Labor & Delivery for diagnosis of Raging Hellfire UTI, Dehydration and One Perfectly Fine & Alive Baby.
Okay, one bit from the long version -- Jason was not at home when the bleeding started, but was stuck on the Metro so my frantic phone calls of TALK ME DOWN, BITCH, HOLY SHIT went directly to voicemail, which...did not talk-me-down so much as wind-me-the-fuck-up.
By the time he called back -- without actually listening to my voicemails (he later put them on speaker, right there in the hospital), but he gets points because he was calling to see if I wanted him to pick me up a burrito -- I was KIND OF SORT OF A COMPLETE WRECK, waiting for my doctor to call me back and grunting and groaning around on the floor of our bedroom, trying to find that goddamned doppler thing under the bed.
As we have already learned from yesterday's post, sometimes Jason is not exactly the Even-Keeled Rock of Common Sense EITHER around here, as he immediately started yelling at me for not immediately calling 911 and taking Noah and myself in an ambulance to the hospital over -- ahem -- four or five drops of blood on the toilet paper.
(Free Brilliant Product Idea: Some kind of cradle or holder for the iPhone that allows you to get that great SLAM! sort-of hanging up you get with a real phone. There's just something so unsatisfying about pulling your phone away from your ear, looking at it, and then....TAPPING THE SCREEN REALLY FORCEFULLY to hang up on someone.)
I did find our doppler and easily confirmed the presence of a heartbeat, and told my doctor that I was 99% sure it was a UTI (I had the exact same sort of spotting with Noah, only in the first trimester) (and oh yeah, I tested positive for one about a month ago and have been admittedly a little lax about the cranberry juice) but...but...I trailed off, sniffling, because seriously, I'm a pregnant lady. My options are to sit up all night and chew on my hands and sob and watch whatever weird Olympic events get aired at four in the morning or go to Labor & Delivery and get checked out. I know this. He knew this. He told me to go get checked out.
Just like our emergency L&D visit from my first pregnancy, the baby woke up about 15 minutes after the monitoring started, showing off lots of rolls and kicks. I had one or two small tiny spikes on the monitor that MAY have been one or two small tiny contractions, but nothing else, and the bleeding stopped. I yelped when the nurse thumped on my back (kidneys, ahoy!) and drank a literal BUCKET of water in order to produce the smallest urine sample ever.
They sent us home after two hours or so, with instructions to drink plenty of fluids (and weirdly, a list of tips to prevent varicose veins? did that backless hospital gown reveal something that I don't know about?) and take it a wee bit easier. Ok, a lot bit easier.
No bedtime + public jammie wearing + free latex gloves = BEST FIELD TRIP EVER