This definitely isn't a good news/ bad news post. So instead of bad news, we'll call it annoying news.
First, the good news! I went to the doctor on Thursday, and my cervix was actually LONGER (2.3 cm to be precise). Who knew 3mm of change could be so exciting? The whole time I was on bed rest with Reid things never improved. They didn't get worse, which was a victory, but we never saw a reversal of the initial condition. The first six weeks of this bed rest journey looked to be the same. Things were either getting worse or staying stable. I never dared hope for improvement.
We're not sure why things have gotten better. Perhaps the experimental progesterone injections are working? I have made it to 26 weeks, and I know that with every day that passes, our baby girl is growing and developing by leaps and bounds.
The annoying news: I have been on bed rest for 6 weeks. That's 42 days. I think. This happens to be the length of my entire bed resting journey with Reid, and I'm STILL not as far along this time as I was when I started bed rest the last time. In short, I'm slowly losing my mind. I'm getting cranky and horribly Vitamin D deficient. My muscles have atrophied and my energy levels have plummeted. And I still have 8 more weeks before I am far enough along that my doctor will let me off of bed rest.
The real tragedy of this situation--the thing that keeps me up at night--my hair. That's right, folks. I'm that shallow. You see, the day the doctor put me on bed rest (April 16, for those who are keeping track), I had planned to call and schedule an appointment to get my hair cut and highlighted. I was already at a Level Yellow hair emergency, but we had been so busy that I had not had time to see the lovely Dana. We have now surpassed Level Red. DEFCON 5. All-out hair crisis. My head is an unruly, frizzy mop. What's worse? R-O-O-T-S. I'm seeing my natural hair color for the first time since I was 15, and it is NOT pretty. The pasty-white-soft-and-jiggly-bodied, frizzy-two-toned-headed reflection that greets me in the mirror is the stuff nightmares are made of. Seriously. I'm pretty sure that after this hair experiment, Brian will never again complain about me spending money on my hair. (Okay, okay, if you know Brian you know that this is not true. He will always complain about the amount of money I spend on hair maintenance.)
Prior to my appointment on Thursday, I made the executive decision that my strict bed rest had lasted long enough. I was still going to be very, very good and cautious, but I was going to go see Dana so she could take a weed whacker to my head. I just needed to run this by my doctor, but I was sure he would agree. After all, I've been SO GOOD the last 6 weeks. I may have gotten a tad carried away and also started planning an outing with Brian, Reid, my parents, and my sister and her family. The big outing was going to be today. I was going to go for a wheelchair ride in the Arboretum.
Then came Thursday. The day of reckoning. I ran my list of requests past the nurse before the doctor came in. I guess she ran them by the good doctor. He walks in the exam room and says:
"I hear you have a couple of requests, and the answer to both of them is...YES!...in 8 more weeks you are welcome to get your hair done and go to the Arboretum."
Evil, evil man. I'm seriously considering firing him and finding another (more permissive) doctor. When I told him that I was pretty sure I would lose my mind if I wasn't allowed to leave the house soon he said:
"Allison, this is probably politically incorrect, but I don't really care about your mind right now."
And so this beautiful, holiday summer morning, I am blogging from the couch. Again. I'm not sure how I'm going to make it for 8 more weeks. I will persevere, and I will succeed. And of course I know that it will be worth it in the end. Meanwhile, if you have the misfortune of visiting me in the near future, avert your eyes and spare yourself the agony of seeing me in all bed resting glory.
1 month ago