To those of you who are just joining us, the beginning starts here.
Here are some random facts that go along with this story. Three years ago today was a Sunday. Trey was a student and the phase of training he was in took him to another part of Oklahoma. We decided it would be best for me and the kids to stay in the town where we had a network of friends already established, plus Monkey had preschool. He would only be working out of town for a few months and would be home on weekends. No big deal.
Three years ago, I was still selling Pampered Chef. I had two parties left to do before the holidays. I’ve always been a last minute shopper for Christmas and hey, I still had two weeks! I also had my baby shower to look forward to.
None of that really mattered in the long run. On December 12th, a Monday, Trey left to head out of town. It was a four hour drive, so he left early. I went about my normal routine during the day and then took Monkey over to a friend’s house because I had my weekly doctor appointment that afternoon.
When they checked my blood pressure, it was something like 180/120. On medication. The nurse had me go lie down for a while and see if it would come down any. It didn’t. They checked it four or five times. The doctor would come in and out of the room checking on me and the baby to see how we were. Finally, he told me he was sending me to the hospital to see if they could help bring down my blood pressure. He was all calm about it, but my freak-out meter started climbing, just a little. Then he tells me to pack an overnight bag, “just in case.”
He told me to go straight home, to get my bag, then straight to the hospital. My freak-out meter started climbing even more. As I was driving, I called my friend who was keeping Monkey. Thank God for good friends. She was totally cool with Monkey hanging out with her kids, for however long necessary.
I called Trey, but he was already in class and couldn’t answer. I left a message trying really hard not to sound frantic, but just to, you know, say “honey, they’re sending me to the hospital…” I called my mom. Her freak-out meter starting climbing really fast. I called my dad. I called everyone I knew, it seemed. When I got home, I grabbed clothes, a book, music, and my paperwork for my parties. Just in case.
When I got to the hospital, I went straight to a room and they put on the pressure cuff and had me lie on my left side. My blood pressure was still high. I lay there for what seemed like hours and the only way to keep it on the low end of high was to stay on my left side. I couldn’t even move to my back or my BP would spike. My freak out meter got even higher. Nurses would come and go. Finally, my doctor came in. It was sometime after dinner and not only were pressure sores forming on my left hip, but I was hungry, too.
He starts talking to me about my BP and how they can’t seem to get it down. The only thing they can do now is try and induce me.
Ummm…. Okay…. I’m thinking he’s talking about in a couple of weeks. Nope.
My due date was January 20th and they were inducing me on December 13th.