Seems like one of us is always at the hospital.

And to be fair, it was probably well past my turn. But since I'm usually on the getting-poked-and-IV'd side of things, and Steve is usually on the giving-pokes-and-IVs side, I try to take my turns as infrequently as possible.

That said, don't worry--I've been to the doctor and baby and I are doing just fine. But we had a good scare Monday night. :/

Since the advent of the Braxton Hicks party last week, I've been noticing that sometimes they get pretty intense, consistant, and close together. Which is worrisome at 24 weeks. Monday (after Charlie's first morning of potty training) they started up around 3:30 in the afternoon, and by 4 I had one bad enough that I had to lay down while Gracie played in the spinny office chair in our room. Then I did what they always tell you to do to get contractions to stop--drank a ton of water and laid down on my left side.

When Steve got home at 7 they hadn't stopped, and he convinced me to call my the after hours nurse. I left a message, and when she called back the nurse said I needed to head over to Labor & Delivery to get checked for pre-term labor. And my heart just sank.

It was weird driving over. I could feel the contractions still going strong, and the more pressed and anxious I was to get the hospital the worse the drivers around me became. Seriously, how do all the slow people know to get in front of you when you are in a hurry? I drove past the parking structure and had to turn around, the elevator took forever to get to the lobby, and I felt my heart breaking as I passed a sign advertising things to buy at the gift shop for your new baby and thinking what if my baby came now. I just about gave in to the tears then.

But the elevator finally came and the attendant let me in to triage where I saw one of our friends, Alex, who is a resident doing his OB/GYN rotation and panicked about seeing him there instead of at a cook out (that's what they call barbecues here in the South) and when he said, "Hi Jamie," all I could think to say was, "Don't come in!" Sorry, Alex. :/ It was actually very comforting to have someone I knew on the floor (though, good man, he didn't actually come in) and when I got home later I found out that he and Steve had been texting the whole time. Which I thought was sweet.

Anyway after I possibly insulted Alex a nurse put me in a triage room and gave me a hospital gown that I could not figure out how to put on correctly. She came back in, took down my info, and hooked baby girl and I up to fetal heartbeat and contraction monitors. And then I waited.

I browsed Pinterest, checked Facebook, took this introspective self portrait, drew a picture on my iPad, and tried not to worry about my baby girl.

When the nurse finally came back, she brought with her an armload of ways to make me uncomfortable. That must be a rough job, though, poking pregnant women. I tried to joke with her about the awful things she was going to do, but she didn't seem to get my sense of humor. It started with her taking a swab (guess where from) to do a fetal fibronectin test, which looks for a protein that indicates your body may be preparing for labor, and followed that up by checking my cervix (never my favorite), and to add insult to injury, she then gave me a catheter for a few minutes so she could get a really clear urine sample to test for infection there. (I was pretty amused, though, that she complimented me on how hydrated I was. She told me, "I have never seen urine this clear on this floor!" Hydration: nailed it.) Other than that bright spot, though, it was obviously a rough time, and even though I honestly prefer that sort of thing to happen when I'm on my own, I missed having my Steven there to squeeze my hand.

Then she left, and there was more waiting. She came back with orders to put me on a fluid IV, so more big needle-y stuff. Sad face.

It was getting late and I knew I should try to sleep, but I couldn't. It was just weird, laying there in the half-dark, wondering how long I'd have to stay and if things were going to be alright, and how long it would be before the nurse came back with some kind of news. Baby girl's heartbeat was a constant companion, a cheerful little gallop punctuated by that muffled microphone sound that resulted from her sucker-punching the monitor strapped to my belly (she is not a fan of stuff poking or squishing against her). So, drowsy but not drowsy enough, I propped the iPad on my belly and started an episode of the West Wing. About ten minutes in the nurse came back and said our tests had come back negative (good) and my doctors had cleared me to go home.

It felt SO GOOD to hug Steven at home and know our baby girl was okay.

They had me spend yesterday on (mostly) bedrest (I did get up to take Charlie to the bathroom for potty training: day two) and then I went in for a follow-up at my OB's office. He did a check and said he wasn't sure what was going on, but that I definitely was not in pre-term labor, so just to take it easy when I need to. No bed rest necessary (thank goodness) and baby girl is still safe in her little home, and I just feel so lucky and so blessed.

So this morning I'm taking it easy, sitting on the couch surrounded by kiddos. Charlie is measuring his stomach with my sewing measuring tape and proclaiming that his belly hurts (I told Grace that is why I had to lay down) and Gracie is looking through her baby book and suggesting that we make one for her sister when she is born, and baby girl is bamping.

24 weeks.

24 weeks, and we made it through the first week of intern year! Woo hoo!!! Steve started on trauma, which is a pretty intense schedule, but he kept a really good attitude and he likes his work. So that helped. Did I get a little teary a couple of times? Uh, yeah. So did Charlie and Gracie. But I think we're making the best of it, and its only a month and then on to a lighter shift in Peds Emergency. AND he got Sunday off, so we all got to go to church together. :)

Babycenter tells me that baby girl is the length of an ear of corn (I feel like the produce sizes are getting kind of weird at this point... Ear of corn? Spaghetti squash??) which in real people terms means she is about a foot long and weighing in at a little over a pound, apparently having gained 4oz since last week! She's been busy bamping around in there, and I can already see her kicking and punching. I am surprised that she can already kick in so many places at once! She can be well above my belly button and down by my hip at the same time!

My Braxton Hicks have slowed down since they first started, but I still get them for about an hour or so each day. I'm glad they are normal and inconsistant, because that first night gave me a good fright. She's much too little to consider joining us out here yet. (Totally Braxton-Hicked right in the middle of typing that sentence.)

I'm starting to get a strong nesting itch, but this week's focus is all on Charlie this week for potty training. Yikes. I'm getting so big so fast I figured I should get on that party train before I am too big to want to deal with lifting my boy-o onto a potty and cleaning up after mistakes. We began this morning and so far he's doing pretty well. Fingers crossed for the rest of the week. :) I will the gym, the grocery store, and just generally leaving the house. :)