really long post

This weekend seemed to fly by until Sunday afternoon rolled around. About that time, I began to feel a few more contractions per hour than normal (usually I have one to two/ hour). I didn't fret about it, rested on my left side, took a terbutaline, drank plenty of fluids, meanwhile emptying my bladder every 30 minutes (a full bladder can cause more contractions). And, at about this same time, I began to feel a watery discharge. Not a normal pregnancy discharge, but watery. Of course, having pPROMed with Coy at 23 weeks, this threw my head into a tailspin. I didn't want to call my doctor (although he did give me his cell phone # and said to call at anytime--is that how you know your a high maintenance patient?) because there were two things he was going to say: go to the ER or wait until the morning and come in. I don't like ER's and didn't want to go there. Not unless I really knew something was wrong.

One of my prayers this pregnancy has been, Ephesians 4:27 "and do not give the devil a foothold." If I allow it, my mind can really get the best of me. I start thinking about the worst case scenario and talk myself into dying; I'm sure some of you know what that feels like. Reading scripture, praying, and giving God all my fear/anxiety is that only way to calm my mind and nerves. It's a fight, a fight with the devil, and I refuse to give him my peace.

For the past few weeks, I've felt God speaking to me: '35'. I don't know why, but I can't shake that number. It's not made up by me, because I would have flopped that to '24' or something.

Last night I didn't sleep soundly, waking up at 2am to our smoke detector beeping every minute or so (from a low battery). I also thought I heard someone walking in our living room. Poor Chris, had to get up and check around the house to make sure the Boogeyman hadn't stopped by for a visit. When awake, I felt more of the discharge, felt another contraction or two, and then started to do the mind-racing thing. That's always productive at 2am. I knew I was giving the devil a foothold, giving him a piece of my peace. And I didn't like it.

Through my negative thoughts, I kept feeling '35'. And, again, it's not from me. I wouldn't put 'pregnant' and '35' in the same sentence. Especially not in the frame of mind I was in at 2am. I even tried to dismiss it like, "Okay God, I don't know if your talking about my sister's next pregnancy or something, but you can't be telling me 35 weeks is in my future." Especially not with ruptured membranes.

Eventually, I was back asleep, only to wake up again at 430 with a full bladder, more watery discharge, and another contraction. No Boogeyman this time, but still that darn, beeping smoke detector. Dear God, please stop the discharge and silence that smoke detector, thank you. Needless to say, when I finally got in the shower this morning at 815, I was groggy.

When I arrived at my OB's office, I sat calmly and waited with a room full of other pregnant women. But after waiting quietly for 45 minutes, I wanted to scream to the receptionist, "I am so scared my water broke, what the heck is taking so long today?" Finally, it was my turn and I did the same routine that occurs every appt: pee in a cup, weight check, and blood pressure measured.

After talking to the nurse, my doctor came in a few minutes later and my nerves were up to my eyeballs. I told him I was paranoid I was leaking amniotic fluid, and having more contractions than usual. He examined me, checked me cervix, and said, "it's not fluid, it's an infection." Thank you Lord! I asked him to repeat himself, what did he just say? You mean my membranes have not ruptured? Disbelief, shock, awe, thankful. God, you are so good.

Next came the ultrasound which showed baby girl has lots of fluid to swim in. I'm not sure why my body is more susceptible to infections right now (other than the fact that I'm pregnant and my hormones are out of whack). He gave me an antibiotic and said it should take care of the infection and 'discharge'. Awesome.

Then he brought up the 'H' word again. Hospital. As in, I'm going in within the next week and staying (hopefully) for the next 2.5 months. At that point, expecting I'll still be pregnant, I'll can go home for the remainder or stay in. As he explained to me, he can't predict the future and is not God, he'd much rather be extra, extra cautious and admit me rather than wait until things take a turn for the worst and it be too late. My thoughts exactly.

My doctor said the words "get you to '28' weeks" and I'll I could think was '35.' Again, I wasn't talking myself up. My human mind can't fathom being 35 weeks pregnant; what the heck is that like?

I don't know why, but I resisted being admitted today. I wanted time to think about it and talk to Chris. I don't know what there really is to think about: I know Coy is in the best hands possible, and therefore I have to focus on our other baby. I have to go in. After praying, talking to Chris and my family, I feel it's best to go tomorrow. One last night with my babies for awhile, and one last night in my bed.

(As a side note, our two precious Maltese dogs have both put themselves on bedrest as well. They lie next to me in bed all day long. Very sweet.)

Don't get me wrong, I knew this was coming. I knew from the get-go that I was going on bedrest at 20 weeks. I am not surprised or really even disappointed. I just miss Coy, but I know that this time away from him is only temporary. Just like the storms that rage in our lives or the deserts we walk through, they're only temporary. God will pull you through it, bring you to the other side.

So, in conclusion, please pray for my endurance, Chris's endurance as he becomes Mr. Mom in the evenings and on the weekends, to trust in the Lord, to not to let my mind race with negativity, for God to speak to my doctors and nurses, to give them wisdom. Pray that God has given me '35' as in '35' weeks and not days.

Pray also for our families--they are running this marathon along side us, whether they wanted to or not. We really could not do this without them. We simply could not.

I'll be sure to keep my blog updated. And 'tweet' often (my dad said the other day, 'what is that tweeter thing?' HAHA).

Love you all.