Today is my three week "anniversary" of being in the hospital. At $1,000 a day (that’s the low estimate) just think of what I could have been doing instead.
But, really, who needs the Four Seasons on Maui when it comes to brewing up a little baby for three more weeks than anyone expected. My view might not be great, the food might be fairly tragic, my mood may often be even worse, but this is the place for me.
As many sleeping pills as you want (equally as many stool softeners, if you’re into that), some opiates for good measure on the really bad days (which, by the way, SUCK. Fuck that opiate noise), and some exciting heart-racing tocolytics to keep the contractions at bay… it’s a pharmaceutical lollapalooza. Though, admittedly, I decline pretty much everything. What would happen if I took an Ambien and then sleepwalked out of my room and drove around town and tried to make out with strangers? The commercials warn of these things, you know. Mostly, though, I hate the Ambien hangover.
There are always friendly people peeking into my underpants, and asking about my kids (sometimes at the same time!). The TV works. There’s an OT lady intent on making me paint a ceiling tile. And there is constant hammering and drilling because the L&D floor is under construction. What’s not to love, really?
Morgan, Laura, Laura II, Summer, LaRhonda, Melissa, Kristin, Katherine, Christine, Mary Lou, Bertha, Jennifer, Becky, Julie, Stephanie, Jenny (the best person to give shots ever) and many, many more who’s names I can’t remember. These have all been my nurses, and they’ve all been very nice. There was the one exception of Super Chatty Nurse telling me all about her dog’s strangulated testicle and her own loss of a 20-something week twin, and another exception of Nurse Who Made Me Pee In A Bedpan Because She Was Freaking Out, but really, they’ve all been nice.
And it’s nice to know that when things start spiraling into OH SHIT, they are here to help. It’s also fun to talk to them about their kickball team. A nice distraction when you’re getting 6 terb shots.
Yesterday was not a great day for me emotionally. The wee-er one has entered the "why" stage and she said "Mommy come?" when it was time for her to leave. I said I couldn’t and then the "whys" started. It made me very, very sad. She will grab my arm and say "Mommy come now?" and it is all I can do to keep it together. I have come up with a story about magnets in my butt that won’t let me leave the bed. Kind of ridiculous, but it makes her laugh when I pretend to struggle against them.
Of all the struggles, why is the pretend one the hardest?