Thursday, December 2nd was a bit hazy. I was on the mag for 24 hours, and feeling rather loopy from it. My vision was starting to go double, but would resolve itself - a side effect of the mag rather than problems from the pre-e, thank goodness. I couldn't sit completely upright, because I would get dizzy from the mag, and it was getting harder to watch TV because I couldn't focus on the screen. John decided to go into work for a few hours that morning (his bosses and co-workers all declared him nuts), which in retrospect was probably good because he would've driven me nuts. Plus it gave him something to do, and something to help take his mind off of everything.
The important event of the day was getting the 2nd steroid shot. Honestly, I don't understand why so many women complain about these, or why they declare them so painfully evil. Yeah, it stung a bit, but it wasn't nearly as bad as I was anticipating. Maybe it's all the padding I have back there or something, but I'd take the steroid shots over the mag any day!
We had consults with a bunch of doctors, most importantly with the neonatologist. He was able to give us some general expectations about babies born at 29 weeks: these babies have a very high survival rate (over 90%), and we could expect an average of 8 weeks in the NICU. Some form of respiratory assistance would be needed, whether it was a ventilator or CPAP. I was told I would have to pump breastmilk for her, since she would not be able to nurse directly for a while, and would receive her feeds through a feeding tube. We were told to expect an umbilical line to be placed, hopefully quickly followed by a PICC line. This consult helped a little bit, because I was able to realize that they would do everything possible to help her fight and thrive. Not that it took away the fear, worry, and anxiety over her early appearance, but it was almost comforting to know that she would be in the best of hands.
John & I went on a tour of the NICU, and were able to see where Judith would be spending the next weeks of her life. We saw a quiet room, had the monitors explained to us, and began to prepare mentally for all of the tubes and wires that would be hooked to her tiny body.
Our pastor came to visit that afternoon, and it was a pleasant diversion for me.
I was allowed to take a shower that evening, and it was much needed - I felt so scuzzy by this point, and my hair was a greasy mass. John laughed at me so much, and if I knew I could get away with it I would've slugged him - because of the mag, I couldn't stand upright, and resembled a drunken sailor trying to walk to the shower. I moved slower than a snail, trying to keep my balance, and for the first time he had to actually help me bathe. The shower felt good though, and it was nice to go back to my bed feeling clean and less greasy!
With my c-section looming the following day, my oral intake was stopped. I was without water, and was getting so thirsty, but I knew it had to be done to help prepare me for the morning.
To be continued...