Friday night took an interesting turn…what started off as a “let’s the clean the office” nesting impulse led to a 2 hour visit to labor and delivery triage…proving (as if the broken ankle hadn’t already) that really the person who needs supervision in this family isn’t the two year old, but me.
Picture if you can, the 24 week pregnant woman sitting in a rolling office chair in a cluttered office. She has decided that sitting in the chair will best allow her to clean without putting undue strain on her body from bending over (it tends to make me a little dizzy) or on her hips, which have recently enjoyed some sciatic pain running through them. She spies something she picked up as a present for Ellie and leans over to pick it up, intending to pack it away for her birthday. The chair overbalances and tips forward, dumping her onto the floor, and pinning her in a bent over position as the chair lands on her low back (right where she had surgery five years ago and still has issues).
She sits there bent over and trapped for a good five minutes until people hear her calling for help.
That was me.
Now, normally the only thing that this would have caused (beyond some embarrassment at my utter lack of grace and balance) would be the need for painkillers for my back. However, between the adrenaline, and the back spasms, my uterus began to feel left out and started contracting, too. Once I’d had three or four contractions, I knew I’d just gotten a one-way ticket to labor and delivery triage. I didn’t expect it to turn into real pre-term labor, but as a safety precaution, I needed to be checked. I also knew the baby was probably fine as my uterus hadn’t hit anything in my fall. But, as it’s best to be safe rather than sorry, off Ravi (who just arrived home from work) and I went to the hospital.
You know what’s even more embarrassing than falling off a chair because you’re a klutz and having to go the hospital? Having your OB show up at the hospital looking fairly glamorous and knowing she was out and now has to be at the hospital with you because you are a KLUTZ who can’t sit in a chair without endangering herself. Looking so glamorous that it actually takes both you and your spouse (who has not had dinner) a second to even recognize her. Yeah, that sucked. In the US, I would’ve been the problem of whatever intern drew the short straw and had to work that night..which makes me wonder where the interns are in Singapore? The public hospitals?
My OB did an ultrasound, and as expected the baby was fine, if super active (again, thanks to the adrenaline and the still occasional contractions). Things were starting to calm down on their own, but as a precaution, I was put on a drug to prevent labor for a week and was under observation for a full two hours. (Luckily my OB was able to head back out after checking us out and just needed a phone call to give permission to spring me).
Around midnight we were allowed to leave, and my poor beleagured spouse finally was able to get dinner.
To be fair, though, it wasn’t the worst experience in the world to get a preview of what the L&D floor/team looks like. I felt fairly good about my decision to have the baby at Gleneagles before, but now I’m even more confident. The nurses were all very sweet and kind. The atmosphere is a lot calmer than the one at Beth Israel in Boston…and quieter. Perhaps it’s the whole private hospital thing, but you never run into the wait for hours in the waiting room before seeing a doctor/hours and hour and hours before you can leave experience that is far more the norm at a US emergency room. I hope I don’t see them again before November (not that they’re not lovely) but I feel really good about my upcoming birth experience there.
I think it’s obvious, but just in case it wasn’t–I’m fine, the baby’s fine. My back hurt for a few days, but I’m off even the painkillers now.