Is this real?


I have been in bed since Tuesday evening with no idea or indication as to when I will be leaving it.  When we found out we were having twins, I was much more excited than nervous.  I had no doubt that I could do it and do it well–and work as an attorney, practice yoga and teach yoga at the same time.  Why not, right?

And for 21 weeks and 6 days it seemed like I was right.  Minus my head cold and my inability to sleep for more than 3 hours at a time, I felt like a prenatal rockstar.  I didn’t even feel that “big” and was loving the positivity from friends and family about how great I looked. 

So I walk into the perinatal office expecting more of the same.  Everything looks great, right on schedule, babies are growing...so go home, don’t push yourself too hard, eat right, etc.  and then I would share a conspiratorial smile with the sonogram technician, both of us understanding that I was going to keep up my routine until the end. 

Not the case.  I knew there was something wrong as she measured my cervical lining.  I saw the numbers were out of the threes and I have stalked enough blogs to know that isn’t how this is supposed to go this early on.  And then, right as we were finishing up, I was told that I was scheduled to speak with the doctor.  Except, no I wasn’t.  The conversation had clearly just been penciled in based on what the technician saw.  I got dressed and walked slowly out into the waiting room, remembering to smile and thank her at least twice (21 years of private school education taught me to NEVER let good manners go). 

10 minutes and one segment of NJ 12 News later (why do they always have that channel on??), I was sitting in the doctor’s cluttered office, looking at beautiful portraits of his 3 healthy children and wife.  He delivered the news just as you’d expect–professional, calm, detached in a caring way.  My cervix shortened from a 3 to a 2 in 10 days and that was cause enough for concern to put me on “precautionary bedrest” for a week, take me out of work, and send me over to the hospital for an hour of monitoring to make sure I wasn’t contracting.

Sort of embarrassing to have graduated law school and have absolutely no idea as to whether I was having contractions, but that’s my ego talking.  Anyway-I wasn’t.  No contractions.  And the cute little nurse at the hospital, who had twins of her own, couldn’t be more encouraging, swearing she wouldn’t see me again until 37 weeks and promising this happens all the time.

But really, does this happen all the time?  I know I am not the first person to ever be put on bedrest, but I definitely feel like I am completely alone.

The only person I told on day 1 was my husband, who I called from the waiting room before speaking to the doctor–to prepare him for the news that I knew was coming–and then on my way to the hospital.  At that point, I was acting sort of “tough guy” about it all, telling him to finish out the day at work. 

Day 2, I called my mom.  My mother is the ultimate “Google MD” and has the unique ability to become completely obsessed with other people’s medical maladies.  Before the internet, she actually used her very own medical textbook to diagnose everything from fever sores to lyme disease (seriously, I think she figured out that my sister had lyme before the doctors did.  They thought it was cerebral meningitis.)  She got choked up, but I think my mom was prepared for this.  She thinks I push myself too hard anyway, and knows I am not exactly built to carry multiple babies. 

My mom immediately put herself on bed rest as well and spent the remainder of the morning researching every person who has ever found themselves in my situation.  This calmed her nerves...wish it worked on mine.  She also passed the phone to my dad so I could tell him.  Giving him the news made me cry then and just thinking about it makes me cry now.  He hates to see any of his four children in pain-emotional or physical.  I guess all dads are like that to some degree, but mine is truly a protector. So far he has offered to buy an adult size wagon so I can lay down while he pulls me around outside.  He also wants me to move home, of course, since he and my mom are around a lot and work close to home.  If I keep crying every hour on the hour, I may take him up on the offer.