Time to put my feet up

Miss L imitating her mommy's bedrest

A few weeks ago I had my usual biweekly ultrasound at the hospital. The twins looked great, growing and developing and moving a lot. They took cute profile pictures of Boy AA and Girl BB that I could take home. At the end of the appointment they measured my cervix, which is a leading indicator of preterm labor, a risk that becomes higher with multiples. They discovered that it had shortened by half so the doctor ordered me downstairs for monitoring. There they hooked me up to a machine to see if I was having contractions. I told them I had only experienced fatigue (associated with chasing after a toddler) and the usual lower back pain associated with pregnancy (especially when your belly has grown to the size of mine with two little ones inside).

Well, the monitor confirmed that I was having contractions. They were mild, but every two minutes. At this point the shots started. I still can't pronounce the medication that was injected into my arm, but I can tell you that the effect was like drinking a barrel of espresso. The jolt was so strong that I could barely say the word "cashmerino" when I was explaining to the nurse that I was knitting a doll for Miss L's upcoming birthday. It took two shots to stop the contractions and then it was decided that I would need to stay overnight for observation, just in case they started again in the middle of the night.

By this time I was worried and nervous, and in a strange hospital all by myself. I could feel the tears welling in my eyes. The sobbing started when I realized that I would have to spend my first night away from Miss L. My mother drove in to watch Miss L while Mister T brought me some things to calm me down and distract me, like my knitting bag and stack of New Yorkers that had been piling up.

I was very lucky to have the most amazing nurses taking care of me during my overnight stay. They sat with me for hours trying to assuage my fears, reassure me that Miss L was going to be just fine for this one night and help me talk through how I could make adjustments to my daily routine in order to take it easier. My night nurse came in the room to tuck me in when I was ready to go to sleep. I couldn't have asked for better care.

I returned home the next day and began my regimen of bed rest. I can be on my feet for a few hours a day, but need to lay down the rest of the time. Sitting up counts toward my few hours of being up.

The first few days were tough. I was missing my adventures with Miss L, taking her to the park and the pool. And I really missed being able to pick her up and hold her in my arms. I also started to fear that my household would quickly deteriorate into Grey Gardens without my meticulous upkeep. Luckily, Mister T is home, but this bed rest was going to put a lot on his plate. Speaking of plates, the first thing Mister T recommended that we change was to eat on paper plates (he has never liked doing the dishes)!

After we weathered the transition period (and avoided having to buy paper plates), things started to run smoothly again and everyone adjusted to a new routine, including me coming to grips with what I just can't do or control right now and being okay with it. Mister T is handling everything from picking up Miss L out her crib first thing in the morning to preparing all the meals to cleaning up after the meals to doing all the food shopping to taking Miss L on walks and to the park. Miss L has handled everything wonderfully, although at times she can't help but ask if Mommy can jump up and down and dance with her. I just tell her I will join her very soon again in these fun adventures.

I also remind myself that bed rest can be common with multiples. I'm lucky that it's only a few more months. And the doctor hasn't put me on daily medication or a home monitoring device so while we need to be cautious we don't need to panic. I just need to put my feet up, take deep yoga breaths and enjoy my knitting.