Tuesday, June 14, 2011

No. Joke. Hospitals blow. Am in one now, having an NST. I'm sitting here in a triage room, well sort of sitting, kind of half sitting/half lying, which, kids, feels like hell, my back hates me. Two bands are strapped to my stomach with little plastic disks on them that are pressing into my skin. A tight band was around my right upper arm, I presume to check my blood pressure. And here I thought I was here to have an ultrasound, to check on little Liam's growth. For an ultrasound, I've found, I'll endure most anything. But, am not having an ultrasound, the nurse has just informed me. Grrr.

Currently the room is silent with the exception of L's heartbeat, which, WOW, fluctuates a lot—from 138ish to 165ish, Kind of nuts. Nurse isn't super friendly, or maybe she's just a little rough around the edges, which might not be the best quality in a nurse. She says to me, 'wow you ARE tiny.' Uh, thanks? Someone is next to me behind a curtain, she sounds exhausted. I can't see her. The nurse just said 'be back in a few minutes' and bolted out. I just heard a baby crying. Wonder if it was just born. Am guessing yes? Because the cry sounded wet. Wet like fluid in the lungs. I'm such a novice. Holy cow.

Not sure why they call this a non stress test. Hospitals alone amp up my stress level. Just stepping into one. BAM, like that, stressed. Guess it doesn't do such to L's, but now she has me eating graham crackers and downing a liter of ice water to get him moving. He isn't super interested. He's a night owl and evidently, quite stubborn (hello, that makes him my twin on both accounts). How LONG am I going to sit here? Am incredibly bored. I hate putty colored walls. I hate ugly curtains. I hate silence. "Focus on the heartbeat, Sarah. It's not silent." I tell myself. I watch the jagged red line being made as slow as molasses across a piece of paper that is feeding on the the floor. Hmm, how sanitary.

The German comes in and sees my graham crackers. He loves graham crackers. He starts eating them. The nurse walks back in. "I'm eating my kids crackers." He tells her. She looks at him like he has three heads and says that's OK.

"Well your baby's fine, just have to get the paper work together and then you can go."
20 minutes later... I sign and we get the holy heck out of there. Well, after signing up for Infant CPR, Infant Care and YAY!, Breast feeding classes.

I should add that while signing up we encounter a woman in a wheel chair that is pregnant with identical triplets. The German tells her she's going to need three boobs. I die inside, simultaneously choking back shock-related laughter and tears of embarrassment. In one week I get to go back and repeat the whole affair. Jealous?

Yeah, I know you are.


  1. yea, no one wants to be at a hospital unless they are getting an epidural, and, oh yea, having a baby!!!!! More immediate lust for the epidural though. Anyhoo-immagine all that on you, plus needles in your spine and your arms and blowing a watermelon through your bagigi. Trust me though, really trust me- if you are in true labor, experiencing real contractions- you don't give a F#$K what happens to you or if Giraldo Rivera wants to interview your crotch. Seriously- trust me on this girl. And, contrary to what you think now, you won't give a s#$t if you poop on the table. Just go with me on this one.

  2. Ditto what Heather said, all of it. Hang in there you're almost there although I know its scary...at least you have the German to lighten things up....