Tuesday
(5 days past the due date)
2:30 PM
Bethany: We get to go the hospital today.
Me (way into my work): Why?
(a moment of awkward silence)
Me: Right... ok.
But we were going for a scheduled induction, so it wasn't an emergency. We started to clean up the house, vacuum, set up the pack & play in the bedroom for when we get home, waiting for the call from the medical professionals informing us that they've got a room ready for us. Around 7:30 PM, we get a call. Bethany answers:
Bethany: Hello?
(wait)
Bethany: Yes, we're available... we can come in now.
(wait)
Bethany: OK... thanks.
(hangs up)
Me: Did she just ask you if you were available to have a baby?
Regardless of the silliness of our directions, we headed into the hospital for the induction.
Upon arriving at the hospital, we are ushered directly into our room, which is larger than some apartments we've lived in.
Faux hardwood floors, DVD player and TV, couch, nice soft lighting, private bathroom, and all sorts of fancy pants medical equipment including what I'm going to call the "stress induction machine", which monitored Gail's heartbeat.
The reason this machine earns a special place in my heart is because it gave us all the information we needed to stress out about Gail's welfare. Is her heartbeat too fast? Too slow? Too normal? No more blissful ignorance for delightfully unaware parents! Now we could worry about our child with precision.
Bethany changed into her hospital gown and I started spreading my junk around my little area. We noticed the DVD player and popped in a copy of "The Princess Bride", settling down for what we assumed was going to be a long evening of medication and waiting.
We weren't able to get very far into the movie (about to Westley's fight with Fezzik) before we started meeting an array of medical professionals and semi-pros. They took note of the fact that contractions were frequently accompanied by a drop in Gail's heart beat (from about 110 to 80-70). This phenomena was "unique" and "not encouraging".
As one of my MD friends pointed out "you never want to be your doctor's most interesting case". We began a set of medication intended to start contractions in earnest. The goal was to see how Gail would react to full-on labor contractions.
(5 days past the due date)
2:30 PM
Bethany: We get to go the hospital today.
Me (way into my work): Why?
(a moment of awkward silence)
Me: Right... ok.
But we were going for a scheduled induction, so it wasn't an emergency. We started to clean up the house, vacuum, set up the pack & play in the bedroom for when we get home, waiting for the call from the medical professionals informing us that they've got a room ready for us. Around 7:30 PM, we get a call. Bethany answers:
Bethany: Hello?
(wait)
Bethany: Yes, we're available... we can come in now.
(wait)
Bethany: OK... thanks.
(hangs up)
Me: Did she just ask you if you were available to have a baby?
Regardless of the silliness of our directions, we headed into the hospital for the induction.
Upon arriving at the hospital, we are ushered directly into our room, which is larger than some apartments we've lived in.
Faux hardwood floors, DVD player and TV, couch, nice soft lighting, private bathroom, and all sorts of fancy pants medical equipment including what I'm going to call the "stress induction machine", which monitored Gail's heartbeat.
The reason this machine earns a special place in my heart is because it gave us all the information we needed to stress out about Gail's welfare. Is her heartbeat too fast? Too slow? Too normal? No more blissful ignorance for delightfully unaware parents! Now we could worry about our child with precision.
Bethany changed into her hospital gown and I started spreading my junk around my little area. We noticed the DVD player and popped in a copy of "The Princess Bride", settling down for what we assumed was going to be a long evening of medication and waiting.
We weren't able to get very far into the movie (about to Westley's fight with Fezzik) before we started meeting an array of medical professionals and semi-pros. They took note of the fact that contractions were frequently accompanied by a drop in Gail's heart beat (from about 110 to 80-70). This phenomena was "unique" and "not encouraging".
As one of my MD friends pointed out "you never want to be your doctor's most interesting case". We began a set of medication intended to start contractions in earnest. The goal was to see how Gail would react to full-on labor contractions.
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