Obviously, getting hospitalized unexpectedly threw a wrench into my weekend plans. I wasn’t able to see Ronny Chieng at the NY Comedy Festival as planned on Friday night, so I made Chris go without me. We were supposed to have my friend and her husband come over on Saturday for lunch, and they were also supposed to bring over hand-me-down baby items, so that got derailed. But luckily their schedule was flexible enough so that they came today instead. I had to shorten my menu of things I wanted to make and we supplemented with some takeout, but I still made the banh xeo I wanted with all its usual accompaniments, plus the alfajores (already made earlier in the week and just needed to be filled) and the passion fruit, raspberry, almond, and coconut cake I was eager to make.

Chris said that most people, after having been hospitalized unexpectedly, would likely return home from the hospital and lie down, lounge around the house and likely watch TV or do something mindless. Me, on the other hand? I went right into the kitchen and started cooking for several hours into the evening. Cooking and baking are therapeutic for me, and I wanted to make all these things anyway; I don’t really see it as “work” even if it can be perceived that way to most people. It’s what makes me happy. And I love feeding people and seeing their reactions to my food, especially when it’s either new to them or they just really like it. It felt so nice to have my next full day back home with my friends at our place. It actually felt like we weren’t in a pandemic during the afternoon we all spent together here. I miss hosting friends for meals. It’s sad to not have as many people to cook for and other people to have as my taste testing guinea pigs. Chris and I just can’t eat as much food.

I’d never been more grateful to be back in my own kitchen cooking or in my own bed sleeping as last night. And it’s almost as if Pookie Bear knew we were back home because she wasn’t squirming around quite as much as she was in the hospital. I just hope she’s okay. We went back to the hospital this morning for more fetal heart rate monitoring and an ultrasound, and the doctors said she still looks good. I want her to be a full-term baby so she can be as grown as possible. While premie babies will eventually be fine, it still kind of worries me because premies are more likely to have jaundice or to have difficulties latching and breast feeding. They’re also more likely to need assistance breathing, but luckily from what we can see on the ultrasound, Pookie Bear is doing a great job practicing breathing already.

When the resident doctor had mentioned the absolute worst case scenario of potentially having to get induced, I also felt saddened because that was like jabbing at my idealized birth story, where I’d go into labor and have a long early labor in the comfort of my own home, eventually make it to the hospital with Chris and my doula and have a vaginal birth. Instead, if I got induced, I’d be at the hospital the whole time, which would really annoy me. And being there, more interventions would likely be pressured upon me, including a c-section. While I cannot prevent what random circumstances arise during labor, I’ve been mentally very resistant to the idea of a c-section; the idea of surgery terrifies me, and the recovery is arguably even more terrifying from what friends and family have told me. I hate the idea of being dependent on other people for everything, which is likely what would happen if I had to have a c-section. A friend recently gave birth, and she could barely get out of bed without pain, so her husband literally had to do everything. For the first month, she wasn’t even able to change her baby’s diapers, and she felt guilty because of it. But I realize that I need to be a little bit more open minded to prevent myself from getting too traumatized. Birth is unpredictable, and I can’t be too rigid because that will just result in a lot of disappointment and resentment.

After an annoying night being hospitalized, I had only a few hours of sleep. A nurse came in every few hours to check on my vitals and to ensure that the fetal heart rate monitor was still in the right place. Pookie Bear clearly knew what was up, as she was far more active during the time we were in the hospital than before; it’s like she knew we were in some foreign place and was constantly squirming and kicking around to signal her distaste for the current situation. Because she wouldn’t be still, that also caused the nurses to check up on me more to adjust the fetal heart monitor on my belly.

Early in the morning, the doctor from my OB practice came to check in on me, and she shared that the good news was that not only did the bloodwork come back normal, but overnight there were no heart rate drops detected. So if all continued through this afternoon, I’d be able to be discharged. I was happy to hear this, though I wasn’t sure what they’d actually tell me at a check-in later. Chris eventually came, and he was also there when the doctor came back to tell me that after consulting with the maternal fetal medicine specialist who originally had me come to triage, he insisted that I stay ANOTHER night for monitoring to ensure the baby was really okay. This was despite the fact that no heart rate drops were detected in this entire 24-hour period. This is NOT what we agreed to and discussed yesterday. And that’s when Chris really lost it. I didn’t even have a chance to react until he went nuts on the doctor.

“This is too much!” he insisted. “Why don’t you just monitor her and have her hooked up until she delivers in a few weeks then? The American healthcare system is known for over testing and doing too many interventions, and yet despite all of this, the outcomes are not better here; they are WORSE!”

The doctor asked if he was an OB-GYN; Chris got even more crazy and retorted back, “Don’t patronize me!” I could barely keep a straight face. My eyes were wide open. This was all happening so quickly and I barely even had time to process what was being exchanged and could not even react. I’m too slow.

Eventually, we agreed to a compromise: I would be discharged, but I would need to come into the triage unit again tomorrow morning for about an hour of fetal monitoring. Then on Monday, I’d come in for more fetal monitoring and an ultrasound at the OB’s office. On Wednesday, I’d come back to maternal fetal medicine for monitoring and another ultrasound to ensure the placenta was delivering enough oxygen and blood to the baby. Did this sound like a lot? Yes, but it was a compromise, and I obviously also wanted peace of mind that Pookie Bear was going to be okay and healthy.

It felt really good to finally go home, though. I felt annoyed and anxious at the hospital, and now I don’t even know if my baby is growing enough. So there are so many unknowns now that I’m concerned about, and only time will tell if we will all be okay. The doctor insisted the baby would be fine regardless of what path we took and her life wasn’t in danger, but I can’t help but have that fear in the back of my mind that something else may go wrong.

When I went into the hospital for a routine pregnancy ultrasound at the ultrasound/maternal fetal medicine unit today, I was not expecting that I’d have to stay overnight, but that’s exactly what ended up happening.

The ultrasound results all came back normal, so as I was waiting for the doctor to go over it in detail and let me make my next appointment, a nurse came to my room and said that they’d run a “non-stress test” for the baby, which means they’d hook me up to a fetal heart rate monitor for about twenty minutes to see how the baby’s heart rate changes depending on her movements. For the first 15 minutes, everything looked great, the doctor said, as he came in and out to check in on the results of the ebbs and flows of the heart rate, which were being recorded. But suddenly, a random dip occurred, and it apparently lasted for about 3 minutes. They said they weren’t a hundred percent sure if it was an actual dip in heart rate that lasted that long or if it was just that the baby moved out of the range, but they were concerned. So they sent me to the hospital triage unit on the labor and delivery floor for more monitoring that lasted about two hours. I was not super happy with what was happening. No one really explained the dips to me and what they could actually mean. A resident doctor came in, who I frankly was not a fan of, and after more monitoring, they identified another dip, and he said I’d need to stay overnight for continuous monitoring.

I felt terrified. He said that hopefully things would look good via the continuous monitoring, but the worst case scenario if the dips continued would be that they’d need to induce me for labor early, as it may be possible that the baby would be healthier and safer outside of the uterus than inside. And because of that potential worse case scenario, they wanted to give me a steroid shot to get the baby’s lungs to develop faster in case she needed to come out sooner.

They also wanted to hook me up to an IV, and I told him I didn’t want that. “Why?” I asked. “I am perfectly fine to drink water right now.” He said I looked a bit dehydrated. Irritated, I told him that I hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in over 5 hours, nor had I been offered, and water through my mouth would be just fine. He said the IV would allow the water to get into my system quicker. I retorted back that I was fine to DRINK the water. Also, would he be able to give me SOMETHING to eat because I was starving…?! If they really did need to quickly stick medication in me, they could just give me a heplock.

“How do you know what a heplock is? Do you work in healthcare?” he asked, smiling and a little curious.

Seriously, people. This isn’t rocket science. I don’t need to work in healthcare to know some healthcare basics. This stuff is all available online as public knowledge!!

He said he’d check with the doctor from my practice about the no-IV and came back with a large jug of ice water, which I proceeded to chug.

Eventually I got admitted into a hospital room, and the doctor from my practice came to check in on me a couple times to explain a few things. She said that they just wanted to be cautious and so that’s what the continuous monitoring was for. If all checked out fine and no more heart rate dips were seen, and if all the blood work and ultrasounds continued to look normal, then I could get discharged tomorrow. Luckily for us, everything else did come back normal, so now they just want to make sure the dips did not continue. They also wanted to do a weekly hospital ultrasound to ensure there was enough blood and oxygen flow between the placenta and the baby so that they could ensure she was getting enough nutrients… as according to them, she is measuring a bit small for this stage.

Pookie Bear had been super active the entire time in the hospital. I was worried she wasn’t getting much rest. I kept looking down at my belly, telling her we’d be just fine. I want her to stay in there as long as possible so she can be full term, but I was genuinely worried at the idea that she may not be getting enough nutrients. At the same time, other than the nurses, I was really unhappy with how I was rarely asked for my consent for anything and just felt like I was being herded off and forced to do things. That resident doctor really needed to slow things down and explain more. This is why I hate the American medical system and all the interventions here. This is why I hired a doula. I can’t really trust that this is all truly in my own best interest or my baby’s, as it feels like interventions for the sake of interventions. And now, I’m in a state of anxiety, wondering if my baby is really going to be okay and if we will have a safe and healthy birth.

Chris and I were on a Google Hangout chat with his cousin and wife on Saturday night and discussing pregnancy and breast feeding. His cousin’s wife, who is a midwife/nurse, told me that it’s becoming more recommended in Australia to begin hand expressing milk before the baby is born, after 35 weeks of gestation. While I’d heard of women experiencing colustrum leakage in the weeks leading up to birth, I’d never heard of women actually expressing and pumping milk before baby arrives. She said that since it may cause labor to begin, it’s safest to begin this process after 35 weeks. According to the Haakaa manual pump site, they suggest doing it after 37 weeks to be safe. You basically manually warm and squeeze your breasts to try to express the thick colustrum (first breast milk, which is usually really thick unlike later breast milk) out. Only a little comes out at a time, so it’s collected via a sterilized syringe and then stored in the fridge or freezer so that when baby is born, she will have food to immediately eat. Plus, this also expedites your body producing milk instead of waiting 3+ days for regular milk to come after birth since your breasts operate on a demand cycle; the more you express and feed, the more milk your body will produce.

This totally made sense to me, but I had no idea why no one had mentioned this to me before. My doctors never mentioned it, and neither did my doulas. I’m apprehensive about labor before 37 weeks, though, so I’m going to wait until week 37 to try this out. It’s supposed to be frustrating and have a big learning curve, but I’m definitely willing to do it, especially to prevent my baby from having these disgusting American infant formulas that have corn syrup and sugar in them.

The Braxton Hicks contractions felt really strong this morning right before I left for my doctor’s appointment. They made me feel lethargic and a bit miserable, but I knew I had to go in for my appointment, so I hauled myself together and got out of the house. At my appointment, my doctor did a quick scan of the baby and reported that all looks good: she has plenty of amniotic fluid surrounding her, and her growth is still on track. As of today, she’s just over 5 pounds in weight approximately, and her heart rate is healthy. Oh, and my weight? I’m now at 140 lb. I never thought I’d see the day when the scale measured that high for my weight!! That means I have now gained about 23 pounds from pregnancy. All general measures say that a woman of average weight should gain between 25-35 pounds during pregnancy, so this seems okay. And luckily, she is still head down, as she has been since week 28, but she’s facing the front to my left side, and we want her facing my back for the easiest, speediest birth. So it’s likely I will need to do some forward leaning inversions to encourage her to get into the right position. All the things we must do to ensure baby and body are ready for labor…