Day three of incarceration. Another day on the inside is good.
My waters broke on Monday afternoon at 33 weeks. To the hospital. Bloods, ultrasound, IV antibiotics, course of steriods, swab. More bloods. Twice daily CTGs. Oral antibiotics. See midwives, junior junior doctor, senior junior doctor, consultant, ward doctor, social worker, lactation consultant, anaesthetist, still to see the paeds. I am now here for the duration, hoping to get an extra two weeks of growth and maturity before the inevitable premature delivery.
I am in a four-bed unit in the old women's hospital – everyone moves over to the brand new one in a couple of weeks. I may or may not be part of that move. Being in a four-bed unit is not ideal, but the ward is chocka full, and it is better that those who are fresh from theatre or who are learning to breastfeed have the single and double rooms. It is also not ideal that the ante and post-natal wards are one and the same place. It is not the crying of the healthy, full-term newborns around me that is upsetting, just the reminder of what I cannot share. It was especially hard to share the room with two newborns – luckily only for one day until other places were found.
I've had a procession of room mates. Some are quiet. Some have cell phones that ring at twenty to seven in the morning, and lap tops to watch movies with at 10.00 at night (sans headphones). Some have extended families around for picnic lunches around the bed. Some are bright and breezy. Others are troubled, anguished, facing hard times. Mostly just ordinary people together briefly by circumstance.
I am being well looked after – monitored fairly closely, but it does pay to be a squeaky wheel if you want anything. The demands on the staff seem fairly large – there are a lot of people on the ward all with different issues and it would be very easy for something to slip through.
The children seem to be coping well with the support of family and friends. It's too hard to think about them too much.
I am trying to find the balance between not thinking or worrying about what I cannot change, and making reasonable plans for various possible outcomes. I am trying to not even think too much about the time to come in neonates. Trying to skip forward however number of weeks I need to skip forward until we are all home.
Labels: Floyd the fourth