A preview to D-day

I have to say, so far, I've been pretty lucky. I've been able to live a rather normal life throughout this pregnancy. Yes, there have been a few inconveniences, some of which have been right pains in the ass (some literal), but overall I don't have much to complain about.

Well, that was until recently. I developed this odd pain in my upper abdomen. At first it was a mild burning sensation and so I thought maybe there's some stretching going on. Like a good prego, I shared it with my doctor who couldn't provide a real explanation and just said that sometimes the prego body does things that cannot be explained.

I was okay with that, but as the weeks went on, the pain become more excrutiating - to the point where I've scared Mr. Oh out of his dreams with my screams of sheer agony. But usually, after a short time, the sharp pain would subside to a dull thud in my upper abs. With each episode, Mr. Oh would beg me to go to the hospital. I'm a believer in listening to my body, what Mr. Oh calls yoga sh!t, so I knew that while the pain was intense the baby was fine. So, try as he might I wasn't interested in going to the hospital.

Well, I finally gave in a couple of Friday nights ago where every move I made ripped through me like a knife. The tough (perhaps stubborn) gal I stupidly can be I gritted my teeth and tried to get through each one. Unfortunately for me, Mr. Oh walked in from work to find me on the floor, trying to bear through another spasm.

Unwilling to take no for an answer, he dressed me (I was paralyzed, so couldn't do this myself), placed me in the car and drove me to the hospital. By the time I got to the ER the pains had eased up, but there was no going home until Mr. Oh was satisfied.

The moment I walked through the doors, an orderly approached me with a wheelchair and indicated for me to have a seat. As I did so, the receptionist got on the phone and barked into the receiver that a woman who was 38 weeks pregnant was being wheeled upstairs. I took a quick look around the rather empty ER to see if there was any other pregos awaiting service. Nope, she was talking about me. As I was being pushed away, I called out, I'm only 32 weeks along, but she wasn't interested in what I had to say.

Quickly, I was brought to the Labor & Delivery ward. If I wasn't experiencing anxiety from the pain, I sure was just by seeing this sign! I was carefully lifted from the wheelchair, ordered to put on the dressing gown and produce a urine sample. Again, unable to do all this on my own, I threw dignity out the window and asked Mr. Oh for help. Upon emerging from the bathroom, I was ordered to get into bed where I was efficiently wired up - two monitors were strapped around my belly, a heart monitor was placed on my finger and an IV tube was inserted into my hand.

As the chaos ensued, I overheard another nurse order Mr. Oh to fill out the stack of insurance papers and submit them, with our co-pay of course, to the cashiers office (Ahh, America!).

Bewildered by it all, I finally looked down at the nurse who was filling up a third vial with my blood and calmly said, "Do you know why I'm here?" Her response: "Honey, you're in labour." I laughed at her and explained that in fact I wasn't in labour. She told me not to worry and that another nurse would be in to check in on me soon.

Once left alone, my spasms came back with a mighty vengence. And with each one, one of the machines would go beserk. I thought nothing of it until the head nurse came to check in on me and reported that I was having sporadic contractions.

I scoffed and told her that I wasn't having contractions and explained the pain I was experiencing. She asked me if this was my first, which it is and then said, well the machine says it's contractions. Like most people, I don't like being dismissed, especially when it has to do with my body. So, I asked her where I would feel pain if I was having contractions. Answer: lower abdomen, which I sternly explained was not my case.

At this point, Mr. Oh's face had lost just about all its color and he was fully engaged in all of his nervous ticks - biting his lips, rubbing his hair and pacing. While a little concerned, I kept telling myself that I know my body and everything's fine.

Now, to make things more interesting, my little critter was enjoying its evening bouncing routine. As opposed to its morning, early-, mid- and late-afternoon jaunts, the evening ones are more energetic and spastic (I envision dancing capabilities akin to Elaine from Seinfeld). It seemed that one of the straps across my belly was to monitor the baby's heart beat.

So, of course, with every bounce, turn, and who knows what else, the baby's heart beat would elevate. On the head nurse's second visit to me, she explained I was still having contractions, and looking at the baby's heart monitor, the baby may be in distress. Incredulous, I asked why she thought so, to which she explained that although always in the normal range, the baby's heart rate was all over the map.

Although I was concerned, I was sure that everything was fine. But, Mr. Oh? He was paler than I've ever seen him and I wasn't sure if he was going to hurl or pass out. But to be safe, I stopped arguing and continued to be monitored.

Four hours later, the doctor finally came in, who engaged me in a full poke and prod session to which he reported that I, in fact, wasn't in labour. Relieved that finally was talking my langugage, I released an expressive, exasperated, "I KNOW!" and then went on to explain my pain.

After about 6 hours strapped to machines, I was finally released and told that I had torn the cartilage just below my rib cage, which can cause intense pain similar to a rib fracture. Oh, but there was even better news, there was really nothing they could do, the pain would likely get more intense as the baby grows and then I'd have a while until it fully heals postpartum. It's not a normal occurance, but I was told it does happen in some rare cases. Lovely!

As we left the hospital, I expressed both my annoyance for all the trouble and my sense of relief for knowing what is wrong with me. Mr. Oh, who started to get some of the blood circulating back into his face, turned to me and in his shakey voice, said, "I really thought it was all going to go down tonight."

I knew otherwise, but at least we got a preview as to what's to come on the real D-day!