Late last night, as we were prepping for sleep, I said to P, "I can't believe they are forcing me to do these damned non-stress tests every week. They cause me so much effing stress." I hated the non-stress tests because I am forced to lie about my prenatal vitamins (I'm only taking normal vitamins) and my iron pills (I try to take two a day, but some days, I forget and take only one) and my blood thinners (I clearly want to die). Also, the first week they gave me a run down and told me that if my baby is non-reactive enough, I might be forced to stay in labor and delivery overnight. The thought of that is hideous because then what would N do? Would he be okay without me there for him? I'm already dreading the idea of the C-section since it'll be days away from N.
So, of course, today, when I go to the non-stress test, I'm angry about it all. They take me into the office late and I have a closely scheduled regular ob-gyn appointment to follow, meaning I'm now late for that. I'm thirsty and I only have orange juice which I don't care for. I sit down, and wait for the baby to accelerate its heart beat. It does so rather quickly the first time and manages to accelerate twice within the twenty minute limit. I'm happy since I'm now uber-late to the appointment with my regular ob-gyn and I don't want her to hate me. I stand up, ready to leave, but the nurse who was attending me makes a funny face and tells me she has to speak to the high risk doctor. I shrug and tell her fine.
A few minutes later, she comes back and points out that the baby's heartbeat dipped down low a few times and that they need to ultrasound me. My own heartbeat speeds up and I'm sure my blood pressure spikes. N was born on his due date because he wasn't moving much and because his heartbeat slowed down. If his heartbeat had been normal, I'm fairly sure he would have been a normal delivery rather than a C-section. I'm only week 33, and I'm not ready to have my baby girl yet. She needs time to get her lungs to pump up into action and for her fat to fully coat her tiny little bones. She needs time for her cheeks to plump up like N's.
The ultrasound looks great, but they send me up to extended monitoring, regardless. And there, little baby girl wakes up. She is angry at me. I'm laying on my side, bored witless, listening to people around me watch The View, and she was sleeping. She starts to kick and move and accelerate and her heartbeat does not drop until the very end of the two hour period I'm attached and it drops slowly and normally as she falls back asleep. I head home, tired and anxious, but happy that I'm not delivering today.
Little girl, why are you stressing me out already?!