I mentioned in my last post that I had experienced some scary pregnancy symptoms, but hoped that things would quickly be back to normal. I am not a fan of the "When Things get Complicated" section of my What to Expect book. I returned to work after three days of resting at home. I worked all day Thursday, I sat as much as possible, and tried to take it easy. I felt pretty good at the end of the day. Sadly, the next morning I woke up with new symptoms again. I decided to head into work, because I didn't have things together for a sub, and I was to recognize a student in morning assembly. N called my doctor for me as soon as they opened to find out what they advised me to do. We finally heard back from them around noon. They said I needed to head home immediately, and they were calling in a referral to the perinatologist for a higher level sonogram the next week. I felt like such a failure-I felt like my body was failing the baby and me, I was failing my team, my kids, and my principal. Thankfully, my principal has been so kind and supportive through this whole situation. She told me that this little life inside of me was important, and I needed to do what was best for her.
At this point I hoped that when I followed up with the specialist he would be unconcerned, and I would be heading back to work the next day. I tried so hard not to let the worry, fear, and anxiety creep in, but it was always lurking just under the surface. I made light of the situation to almost everyone as I tried to keep up a positive attitude. Aside from a couple of days where I felt pretty down, and when I was tired, I think I kept up a pretty good front. I tried to limit my "googling" because that never seemed to bring much peace. To say my mind would run away from me is putting it mildly. The soonest possible appointment at the specialist wasn't until Thursday. My mom took me, because Nick's team had their first game of the state tournament that day.
This sonogram was a "level two" sonogram/growth scan. Once again, our little sweet pea looked great. She was growing right on track, she was receiving blood flow, and the doctor even took time to count sweet fingers and toes (I know for sure she has five of each!). However, when the doctor checked to see if he could see what was causing my symptoms it was not such great news. He was not happy with what saw and was unable to make a 100 percent diagnosis, so he wanted me to stay off my feet as much as possible. He did NOT like that I was a teacher given what all was currently taking place. He said that work was out of the question. I was thankfully not placed on "strict bed rest". I had permission to do a little, but no standing for long periods, lifting anything over five pounds, etc. I was devastated. My "positive thinking" that I would be back at work had quickly become a concrete plan in my mind. As we were leaving, I continued to ask what could do to return to work. He finally put it this way: I had to stay out for the continued health of the baby- if this continued it could lead to preterm labor, premature water breaking, or placenta abruption. What he didn't have to say was that all of those things would lead to a loss of the baby given her current "age". I was to follow up with the peri again the next Friday. I was definitely out of work until then.
I left this appointment completely defeated. I had planned to call into work and make my plans to return-medical release in hand. I knew the burden that I was placing on my teammates was huge. Many days doing just your own job at school is more than one person feels that they can do well. Now, they were having to do their job plus mine. There was one more week until grades were due. In my plan, I could get a grasp on what needed to be graded over the weekend, and I could reteach any missing assignments over the course of the week. Now, that responsibility fell on my team. I had to stay focused on the fact that the baby was fine, because I was so so down. I knew my children were in good hands, and I was so grateful but so disappointed in the news.
The next Monday I went by my regular doctor in order to get my FMLA paperwork submitted right away and to get a note for my time off of work. The severity of the situation hit me when I left the doctor that day. Every other time I've ever left my doctor it has been with great news and after getting to see my sweet baby. This time I left with a doctor's note that simply said that I was out on bed rest-with no return to work date-yuck. I had a little meltdown in the car. I admitted to Nick that I was trying to be positive and make plans for bringing our little girl home. All the while worrying that I would never have the opportunity to put her in the sweet coming home outfit, swimsuit, or fourth of July bubble I had my eye on. I felt that plans for sweet outfits and a nursery might just be wishful thinking. I put my trust in the Lord that his will would be done in our lives, and hoped that his will and my dreams for our family were one in the same.
The next week continued in pretty much the same course. I did even less around the house, because Nick was finally finished with basketball season. My mom continued to come by several times a week to help with housework and to keep me company. The time we had together was so special, and my sister reminded me often that she never gets to hang out with just our mom. I have been grateful many times over that my mom retired this year. I don't know how we would've made it through this time without her. We never had dirty clothes for more than a day. Nick wishes I could keep up that standard!
Finally, the week was up and we headed back to the peri. Over the course of the week my symptoms had basically stopped, and the doctor agreed that everything looked good. He said to do more over the next few days, and if all continued to look good I could return to work. I had a regular doctor appointment that Wednesday, so he had me stay off of work (but doing more on my feet) until then. If all was still clear I would get my release to return to work.
Thankfully, all continued to go well until I made it back to the regular doctor. He thought everything looked great and signed off on my return to work! In order to "celebrate" I drove myself for the first time in about three weeks, and I bought the tiny swimsuit I had found online. It seemed as though we were out of the woods at last.
I returned to work for just seven working days until spring break. Other than tiredness from adjusting to being back on my feet I felt great. I don't think I truly ever "got" how good the second trimester was supposed to feel due to the onset of my symptoms. During these seven days I understood a little more, and I appreciated every moment of feeling good!
During spring break I helped Nick a little, cleaned a little, ate a lot of snowcones, celebrated two birthdays, finished our registry, and got lots of rest. Also, we were able to celebrate the baby's "viability day." I reached the 24th week of pregnancy, which is when the baby has at least a fifty percent chance of survival. This was a huge deal for me mentally given the previous complications. Even though the baby always looked good I was fearful we wouldn't reach this milestone. Sometimes, I don't give N enough credit. He texted me the morning I turned 24 weeks just to say "happy viability day.". I sure do love him, and I couldn't imagine experiencing parenthood with anyone else!
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