What's with all the poking and prodding?

So...I kinda left the story hanging on the first entry. There was so much to share and I figured that cutting off at the point of being admitted was a good breaking point. So...into the hospital...



"Nikki?" a gentleman said. When I turned, there he stood with a wheelchair. Ugghh...I forgot that people have to be moved from place to place in a wheelchair in the hospital. I sat down and he wheeled me up to the labor and delivery wing of the Scottsdale Healthcare hospital. The woman at the "reception" desk asked to see my insurance card and ID...and it was at this point that I had to explain to her that technically I am Nikki Cavalero now, as it reads on my driver's license. However, I just got that changed and haven't had time to change all of my insurance information yet...so it still reads Nikki Ramsey. It has only been a few months...oops! Hey...I have a friend who has been married for like 10 years and just changed her social security card in the last couple weeks. I am not that bad! :) The woman was very nice and said that she would contact my insurance company and take care of it!



While sitting there for a few more minutes, my dear friend, Elena came up behind me. She was just coming to sit with me...so I didn't have to be alone. (Thanks E!) I was pretty much a hot mess and although I wouldn't have asked her to give up several hours that afternoon...I was glad to see her.



It didn't take long and I was rolled into my room. The room was pretty nice actually. I have never been a patient in a hospital...but I have visited several friends and family members when they have been in for various reasons...usually babies. The room was pretty big, with a natural color scheme and windows that looked out onto this beautiful AZ November day. Two young and cute nurses introduced themselves and handed me a hospital gown.

Let me take a minute to talk about the gown. First...who is it supposed to fit. I guess that they are trying to make it one size fits all. But instead it comes out as one size fits nobody. Second...I was sad to change out of my outfit. That morning I had picked out one of my new maternity dresses to wear. It was a thin, grey sweater dress that tied in the back as an empire style. I was wearing some black tights under the dress and some really great slouch boots. My boss has even referred to these boots as "bad ass boots." I was even accessorized with a new cute necklace that I had purchased the night before. I felt like a very trendy pregnant lady and had been excited to pick my husband up from the airport that night looking cute! And now...I had to put on the hideous hospital gown. OK...

The next hour or so was a whirlwind of questions and monitors and the usual things to check one's vital signs. "We need a urine sample," as they hand me the cup. "You are going to feel a little poke," as they find one of the few good veins I have from which to draw blood. Weight...height...date of birth...have you had any cramps, contractions, discharge (yeah...that's right...I said it), bleeding, headaches, blurred vision, etc. etc. No...no...no...no...continuing to reinforce that I have felt great for my entire pregnancy.

After about 30 minutes on the monitor, they came in to let me know that I was indeed having contractions...several of them. "We are going to give you two shots." One was a steroid given in my hind side...followed up with a second steroid the next day. And the 2nd shot was called turbutaline. The steroids are designed to give baby a jump start if I were to deliver early. The turbutaline is used to shut down contractions. How it works...I have no clue, because it feels like taking 20 shots of espresso in less than a minute. It sent my entire body into the shakes.

In the first few hours, I received more pokes and shots and swabs than I think I have received in all of my adult years combined. And the result...

I was going to be in the hospital for more than 24 hours.

How life can change in a banano second

Thursday, November 19th, 12:45pm. I ran out of my office to head to my 1:00pm ultrasound appointment. It had been a busy and productive morning, putting together my 2010 Budget and Business Plan to present to our executive team on the following Tuesday. I lost track of time, as is a common practice in my work life, and I didn't even take a minute to tidy before rushing out. No biggie...I will be back in an hour or so.

This was my third ultrasound in less than 6 weeks. At 18 weeks, my husband and I went to our regular 2nd trimester ultrasound. It was the coolest! Nick (my husband) and I had decided that we wanted to keep the sex of the baby a surprise, but we couldn't wait to see how our little peanut was developing. Perfectly! Everything looked great, except the ultrasound tech was unable to get all the images of the heart that she wanted because of the dance party that was going on in my belly! Although the ultrasound tech probably didn't love it...we were thrilled to watch our baby attempt to do immitate John Travolta. We were asked to come back in 4 weeks to do another ultrasound to get the missing images.

So at 22 weeks, Nick and I went back to another ultrasound appointment. We thought it would be fast...given that they were just looking for specific images. However, we learned that each 2nd trimester ultrasound is a complete ultrasound. So after about an hour of fighting through the continued dance party, they got the images they needed. Nick had to run back to work, while I waited for feedback from the ultrasound doctor. The feedback was interesting. Apparently, my cervix was measuring short. They asked me if I had been having any contractions. That is a good question...given that this is my first baby, "I don't think so" was the best answer I could give. A normal cervix is 3 to 5 centimeters. Mine measured at 2.9, 2.7 and 2.3 centimeters. The doctor said that they want to keep an eye on anything under 2.5. He reassured me that there was nothing to worry about because there are many women that go full term with a cervix of that length. But he did want me to come in for another ultrasound in a week or two.

I did a little research to learn more about what a "short cervix" means, but I really didn't worry about it because I felt great. I had had a great pregnancy so far. No first trimester nasea. No back aches. No extended exhaustion. I had even been training for the Breast Cancer 3-Day walk that was to take place in less than a week! I am an extremely healthy person and I was feeling great...so I didn't worry. I just went on with my life (including successfully participating in the 3-Day walk...it was awesome!)

10 days later, I walked into my 3rd ultrasound in less than 6 weeks. I felt like I was becoming a pro! It was just me this time because my husband was in Omaha for a meeting. I planned to pick him up from the airport that night. Once again, the ultrasound tech did a complete exam and I enjoyed watching our beautiful little soul wiggle and groove. When it came to the cervix measurement, the tech's words were, "oh...that is a bit short." She told me that it was measuring at 1.2, 1.3 and 1.5 now. It had shrunk. It seemed like an eternity before the tech returned with the doctor to tell me what this means. When they entered the room...it became very clear that something was wrong. He told me very coldly that there wasn't a doubt in his mind that I would deliver early...it was just a question of how early. "You will be on bed rest, but it is up to your doctor whether that is done in the hospital or at home." He said something about making it to 30 weeks and some other things that really started freaking me out. His bed-side-manner could really use some polishing. I laid there crying as he told me that I immediately had to go to my doctors office. Do not pass go...do not collect $200. Straight to my doctor.

My doctor's office is less than a block from the ultrasound office, so I wasn't even able to pull myself together before walking up to the receptionist. She responded to my emotion beautifully and got me back in a room right away rather than making me wait in the lobby. I was told that it could take a few minutes because my doctor was with another patient. Understandable since I arrived unannounced. When my doctor came in, the first thing she did was gave me a hug. She is great! She had spoken with the ultrasound doctor and had some thoughts about what we needed to do, but wanted to consult with the high risk pregnancy doctor before making a decision. She said she would return in a few minutes and gave me another hug while reassuring me that we were going to work this out.

When she returned, she had a plan. She briefly explained that a full term pregnancy is my goal and is their goal as well. She didn't know why my cervix was shortening...it could be pre-term labor that I wasn't feeling, or it could be a disfunctional cervix. Either way, there is something that can be done to help. She wanted to admit me into the hospital for 24 hour observation to see what was happening. "Right now?" I asked. And she said yes...right away. I couldn't return to work to get my stuff...or go home to change my clothes...I had to go get admitted into Labor and Delivery immediately.

The hospital is only a couple blocks away. I made a couple phone calls to contact my husband and fill him in. He was an hour from getting on his plane to come home (probably one of the longest flights he has ever had). And I contacted a couple of my friends (who also happen to work for me) to see if they could pick up my stuff at the office and my husband at the airport. One agreed to do that...while the other rushed down to sit with me. While waiting to be admitted, I also called my mom. She lives in Washington state, and although there wasn't anything she could do to be there...she is my rock and I needed to hear her voice.

I was still crying while trying to fill out some paperwork. I was confused and scared. Why was this happening? I felt great...how could something be wrong?

Yep...things can change in a banano second.

(On the 2nd night in the hospital, my husband and I were playing Scrabble to pass the time and he took pity on the patient mommy by letting me use the word "banano." We thought it would be funny to use it in the title of our first blog. My plan is to use this blog to tell my story over the course of my bed rest experience. Perhaps there are friends and family that will want to have the updates. Perhaps there are women out there that are experiencing the same thing and can find some humor or comfort in it. I won't claim to be a great writer...mainly I write as an outlet for me in this challenging and growing time.)