How I Nearly Had an Emergency C-Section When All I Wanted Was Tea pt 2

I look at the pee cup they handed me. It's red. This is just damn embarrassing. Here I am, trying to give a urine sample and instead I have a blood sample with some urine mixed in. Hell, I bled all over the damn floor and am frantically trying to clean it up. I'm in a hospital, for god sakes, how unhygienic can I possibly be?! It strike mes that being upset that I bleed all over a hospital floor is ridiculous, but I'm not trying to leave a bio mess here.

I wander back out, undress as directed and sheepishly hand the cup to the nurse on hand. "Sorry, " I said, "I tried but this was all I could get."  She stops and stares at the cup. Her eyes widen. "Oh!" I've also kept the pad I had been using. I show it to her. She looks worried. Is that the only pad I soaked? Yeah, although I have a pair of pants and underwear back home that aren't looking to good. How long has this been going on? Man I don't know, 20-30 minutes? Longer with check in...45? Yes, I have cramps and pain, I feel like I need to push. No, scratch that, I feel like I need to push NOW.

They instantly check to see if I am dilated. No, thankfully, but it's hard to tell because there's too much blood in the way. Too much blood in the way? What a lovely thing to hear. My poor husband sits in the corner clutching the heap of towels we brought, looking worried. I keep telling him it's OK. Because it is. It will be fine.

The IV in my arm hurts. I look over and see that my arm is suddenly a big swollen mass of sub cutaneous fluid. Whoops! Looks like someone punched through my vein. I find this thoroughly interesting. The nurses think I am nuts. They get a new, working, line into my left arm while the docs check for a bunch of other things in my nether regions. I gingerly poke at the sub cutaneous pocket of saline now in my right arm and make flexing motions. Hey, might as well run with the absurdity, right? Joking is also a great way to releave stress. I think my husband thinks I'm nuts, but he goes with it anyway. Suddenly we have a diagnosis.

My placenta has detached. They aren't sure how much.

More ultrasounds of various types are run. They can't see a tear, so it must be a small one. Tiny even. That's good, but they have to get my contractions under control or baby will need to come out. I don't think baby's head was designed to bust through a closed cervix.

I am wheeled down the hall to my room where more nurses converge and start pumping me full of more drugs. Saline and dextrose, of course, to stay hydrated. Magnesium sulfate to stop the contractions, and then penicillin. Penicillin? If they have to cut the kid out, they need to reduce the chance of infection and oh, by the way, we're probably taking this kid out.

Wait what? You're what?

I get a steroid shot in my thigh. It's to help stabilize baby's young lungs. At 32 weeks he's too young to breathe well on his own and will need help when he's out. When he's out? What the fuck do you mean when he's out? He's not coming out. Suddenly, I'm signing C-section consent forms and meeting the NICU team. Ok, this shit is really happening. By the way, did we mention all the things that can go wrong when baby comes out this early?

I understand that they have to tell me all this. I'm not worried about baby's care though. This is a level 3 center, they can handle anything. Babies born at 32 weeks have made it just fine. But I don't want him coming out just yet. In fact, I am dead set against it. I tell my body to stop fucking contracting already. We really don't need to have a kid right now. Obviously, if a C-Section is what's best for him, OK, but, guys, trust me, that's so not how this is going down. I simply won't allow my body to continue being so silly.

My husband has stepped out into the hall to make phone calls. Those late night ones no one wants to make. He comes back in. I inform him that worst case, I'm getting a sexy sexy C-scar. He stares. If they can stop the contractions, I say, it will be fine, but if they can't, they're taking baby out. This weekend. Maybe even tonight.

It would be a traditional C-Section, I am told. Great. I don't even get the benefit of the little smiley face scar. I get the "rip my abdomen open up and down" scar. Well, on the inside, my doctor says. On the outside it would be a smaller scar. Oh good, I'm sure that will hurt much less. At least I'll have a good story. I'm sure I work in a bear fight to explain the scar. Think this is bad, you should see the bear...

I have 48 hours.

It takes the steroids 48 hours to provide baby the benefits his little lungs need to survive outside the womb. If they can't stabilize me by that point, baby's birth date will be pushed up considerably. Thankfully, despite all this craziness, he's shown no signs of distress. His little heart is happily beating away like normal as he continues to roll all around in my uterus. He has no idea what's going on. At this point, I am convinced you could drive a truck into my abdomen and he wouldn't notice. He's quite content to stay inside and do his thing. Thank god for that.

The nurse staying in the room with me directs me to try and sleep. My husband too. I've never been in a hospital before and after all that fuss, how the hell are we supposed to sleep?