“I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.”
--- Douglas Adams

Sunday, August 19, 2012

33 weeks, 5 days

So the other day the doctor put me on maternity leave. I'm so bummed about this and am working hard to convince myself that I'm not a failure for going on leave early.

The first 27 weeks of my pregnancy were pretty darn text book. I really thought this would be a piece of cake.

Then week 28 hit, literally. The Boy and I were watching the gymnastics Olympic trials. He got a little too excited and did a flip on the couch and landed square on my belly. As a precaution the L/D department at my medical practice suggested I come in and get checked out. While there, I mentioned the headache I'd been having and the medical team quickly switched gears and decided to admit me. I ended up spending the weekend in the hospital with one of the doctors telling me I'd have Chicken Pie by the end of the week, and another telling me that my situation wasn't as dire as the first doctor had said but I probably should stop working.

I told the doctor that as long as I had a choice, my choice was to keep working. I was going to work until I no longer had a choice.

I did all the right things. I stopped hula dancing. I stopped driving. I started monitoring my blood pressure and enduring nightly calls from a nurse who checked on me (ok "endure" is the wrong word because the call only takes 5 minutes and for the most part isn't a big deal, but there's this one nurse I can't stand and I'm always happy when I answer the phone and its not her). I told work that my departure was going to be sooner rather than later. That my plan to stay until 38 weeks was going to change and they should find a temp for me now. They did. The person they sent was definitely not the right fit. I started feeling better. I think work stopped seeing the urgency in getting me a temp faster and because I was feeling better, I think I stopped seeing the urgency as well. I finally got a new temp. This new temp is supposed to start tomorrow. Trouble is, I'm not going to be there tomorrow.

At my last appointment I saw a doctor I hadn't seen before as my doc wasn't available. This new doc put me of work. There was no changing her mind. I tried to explain to her that I get bad white coat fever and while my BP is high at the drs, it has been good at home. She said if my BP was good at home, I should stay home. I tried to tell her my temp was starting tomorrow and I wanted to be able to spend even a few days with him. She stood her ground and still insisted on taking me off work.

Now, I've never considered myself a workaholic, but I do consider myself loyal and I hate putting people in a bind. I know that the health of my baby is way more important than making sure a conference room is set up on time. By staying at home I'm keeping my baby and me healthy and safe. I just feel an extreme amount of guilt that I'm not living up to all my responsibilities.

I'm hoping tomorrow, when I wake up without an alarm buzzing at me at 5am, but instead by a 4yo telling me he's hungry or wants to watch Caillou I'll feel differently. And here's to hoping Chicken Pie stays in the oven for at least another month.




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