Mommy: 1, L'il I: 0

It's been quite a week here at Chez Spinneas, and I'm afraid I just don't have pictures to share it with you. But I'll at least try to keep it short so that it doesn't get too boring.

Tuesday was my birthday. I actually have a draft post saved that's filled with whining about work and how we make a big deal about everyone else's birthday and how the other folks manage to forget mine every fucking year. About how insulting that is, and blah, blah, blah. I got to work that morning to find flowers and a card on my desk (from the boss, believe it or not, though I admit that was awkward when people asked who gave me such a lovely bouquet), numerous well-wishes from the organization in my inbox and tons of smiles and "happy birthday" greetings over the course of the day. Lightened my mood considerably. Add too it the absolutely hilarious card that my aunt sent me and the new dishwasher my husband is getting me and it was a great day. Not that any of that really matters, of course -- my big boys gave me hugs and kisses and tons of love before heading into daycamp and that was really all I wanted, LOL.

On Wednesday, though, I woke up and it was business as usual. Except that I was absolutely exhausted all day long. Unable to get comfortable at my desk, and went to bed early. Thursday, I woke up feeling even worse -- all the physical malaise, but with the added urge to go over EVERYTHING with my assistant so that he was 100 percent up to speed on EVERYTHING going on at the office. Met with my boss about the upcoming budget process. Told him I was feeling odd (I should note that I dropped seriously overnight from Wednesday to Thursday) and that he ought to start moving in the mindset that L'il I was going to be coming sooner rather than later and that the hourglass was almost empty.

You see, I was having the earliest of contractions ... those little ones that feel like teensy weensy menstrual cramps. I had been having them all day, but I planned on telling the doc at my 3:00 appt.

At the appointment later that afternoon, everything moved along just fine. I was seeing Dr. Wonderful (as opposed to Dr. Serious) and I couldn't be happier. First they did the biophysical profile portion (I go for those every week). They hooked me up to the monitor to measure heart rate and contraction activity, and L'il I and I were chugging along. And then he did what he LOVES to do -- he spun around and positioned himself so that the heart monitor flatlined and set off the alarm. I can't tell you how much he likes to freak out the Muggles by doing this, LOL. Then I heard running. Serious high-heel running down the hall. I looked through the curtain and here comes Dr. Serious. Dashing in like a modern-day female swashbuckler, she started asking questions and generally being more than a little concerned.

"Wendy, this alarm means his heart rate is in a danger zone" (yes, I know, this happens a lot)

"Are you lightheaded or dizzy?" (No, not at all)

"You haven't experienced any swelling have you?" (Nope -- Check out my cute crocs while you're checking my ankles -- they'd be a lot more comfortable for you to run down the hall in)

Has he been moving today? (Of course he has, he just twisted around and performed his little trick.)

And then she readjusted the heart rate monitor to the other side (where he was pumping, pumping, pumping) and looked at the printout.

"Who are you seeing today?" (I pointed to Dr. Wonderful, who had been standing behind her for practically the whole exchange and said, simply, "Her," and Dr. Wonderful smiled and stepped in the room.)

Dr. Serious (who incidentally is a more senior partner in the practice) explained why she had come running (as opposed to letting Dr. Wonderful do all of the questions, etc.) and I told them that the contractions were something that I wanted to talk about if the biophysical confirmed what I had been feeling all day. I stayed on the monitor for another 15 minutes or so with my bottle of water and then headed in for the sono portion of my exam after giving yet another urine sample (sometimes UTI can aggravate a uterus, apparently).

In any event, Dr. Wonderful and I chatted about the labor pains I had been feeling all day and she did the sono. L'il I was still head-down (I had told her that already, LOL) and I asked her to do a pelvic exam to check dilation. She swabbed for fibernectin (a protein that indicates labor is taking place) first, and then checked me out. I was 50% effaced and 1 cm dilated.

I was told to get myself to ze hospital to take advantage of their monitoring system and their ability to intervene if necessary. And so I did. You see, L'il I was only 33 weeks, 3 days along -- four days short of the "his lungs are OK, let's push this baby out" deadline.

Hubby picked up Zee and the Sniffer from camp and went home to await further instruction. Phone calls were made to make arrangements for childcare should the need arise. The big winner was Larry the Appreciator, who had already said he'd be first to line up and take care of our boys no matter what time of day we needed him. He loves our boys dearly and packed a bag with his waffle iron and daily necessities (he makes a mean batch of his special homemade waffles and doesn't often have the chance to cook them up for two growing boys who can eat their weight of them) just in case.

I stayed at the hospital getting monitored and poked and prodded for hours. They tried oral hydration to stop the contractions (which were getting regular AND painful) before moving to an IV saline drip and a big dose of nifedipine (none of this worked) before they decided they needed to keep me overnight since the fibronectin test seemed to be botched up in some way. When a woman is going to go into labor in the subsequent 14 days, the cervix begins to secrete the protein fibronectin -- if the test comes back negative, you're pretty much in the clear for two weeks. However, if it comes back positive, it doesn't necessarily mean you'll go into labor in the next two weeks. A negative is what you want. But somehow, mine got botched -- and since cervical exams can cause a false positive, they couldn't repeat the test until 12-24 hours after the last pelvic check. I was doomed to stay at the hospital.

I didn't get to eat any dinner (this totally sucked -- the only real time I actually feel diabetic is when I'm STARVING) and I got moved to a L&D room that had a TV. I should point out here that I really did feel like it was D-day and was starting to worry about hubby and the boys and how they were going to handle a middle-of-the-night dash to the hospital.

Got another dose of nifidipine after my relocation, another bag of saline and I settled into bed. I spent the night alone, getting up every two hours to pee or reposition (not easy with the IV from HELL in your wrist) and to check the monitor printout for contracile activity ... which continued for another few hours (though they weren't as painful). By morning, though, things had calmed down and I was only having 1-2 an hour and they were usually directly related to my rapidly filling bladder (hey, they gave me a million liters of saline, what did they expect?). Had some breakfast, watched "Hairspray" on TV while I worked on my restart of the Shapely Sandal Sock and waited for the doc to come in and give me an all clear and let me go home where I could at least take a shower!

Bedrest was her prescription. My cervix had gone from 1 cm to a fingertip, and so I'm now laid up and stuck watching my boys finish everything that needs to be done before L'il I makes his entrance. I'm now only two days short of the deadline. So if I can make it until next week, there will be no stopping the little booger. He should be close to five pounds at that point (the Sniffer was only 5 lbs, one-half ounce), so not too teensy. His lungs will be ready to take on the world.

I'm hoping that if he comes this week, it will be on the 26th. That was my Granny's birthday, and for some reason, I'm thinking that day could be it. You see my birthday, July 17, was MY great-grandmother's birthday and I always thought that was pretty darn neat. While Gran isn't here to share the yearly call that MaMa and I enjoyed, I think she'd fight her way to the front of the spectator line above and send good vibes (the whole time poking my grandfather in the ribs and saying, "Now William, you just watch -- Wen's gonna have that boy on my birthday the same way Kay had her on your mother's birthday!") The prospect of such a scene makes me smile like an idiot.

But the truth is, there would be a LOT to do in the next four days if that were the case!!