So guess what I did today.
I pre-registered at our hospital’s Labor & Delivery unit. And signed up for the three-part free class they offer about childbirth and infant care. Because that’s what people do, when they enter the third trimester. When they’re planning on having a full-term baby in the next couple of months.
Like a normal person. It’s exhilarating.
Dan got me a present last weekend, when it was 75 degrees and sunny and I was feeling isolated and trying not become rapidly more depressed – he went out and got me a fully-reclining patio swing. It can be a couch or a bed, but it’s outside, so every day it’s warm enough I can lay outside for a few glorious hours, and I felt instantly better than I had all week.
And then I was 26 weeks, and 26.5 weeks, and now I’m 27 weeks, and I know it all seems so small, but in my head every day is a huge accomplishment. Aside from the bed rest, I feel great, and we are doing so well. Nothing scary has happened. This baby is pronounced “perfect” at every ultrasound. I tried to start fetal “kick counts” – you’re supposed to count at least 10 movements in 2 hours – and once we got up to 150 in 18 minutes. The lowest we’ve managed is 40 over the course of 45 minutes. This baby is so very much alive and well, and every day I feel more positive, less afraid, more free. Except for the bed prison.
And speaking of bed prison, more good news today! My cervix is even longer now, just a shade under 3.6 cm, and the high-risk doctor said we can ease up on the restrictions some. I’m officially on modified bed rest instead of complete, and I can sit at up to a 45 degree angle for chunks of the day, and I’m allowed to leave the house twice a week for 2-3 hours at a time of “mostly sedentary” activities. Which again, sounds small, but it’s huge to me. That, I can totally live with.
And so can our son. We’re in the third trimester. We’re almost there. This might actually be happening!