The Scare

So, I've gotten some questions/inquiries regarding the "scare" I referred to in my last blog that took us to Labor and Delivery a few weeks ago. Not to dimish the necessity for "being careful" or the potential terribleness that can take place during pregnancy, but it really wasn't a big deal. So let's have the story...

I was at work preparing for a game, Tom was at the ballpark too, and I "spotted" a bit, as they call it, which was immediately followed by further abonormal...stuff...and I can't go into more detail than that because bodily fluids skeeze me out. "But Christa, you live with Tom Parr, King of Gross Things and Bodily Excretions," yes, yes I do. And because of this I am near my daily quota for talk of things that exit ones body - in whatever form they come, be it liquid, solid or gas, and hereby give my word that no further graphic detail regarding "the scare" will be given.

Back to the story...Kaiser (our insurance provider) has a 24-hour advice line, so after about 2 minutes of internal detate I figured I should call if there was any question in my mind at all. After answering their battery of questions the head Nurse Practitioner in L&D (that's code for Labor and Delivery) said she wanted to see me, and it would be best if I came right in. "But don't panic," she told me.

Alrighty, then.

So, not panicking, I told my boss (one hour before a game, gates were open and people were arriving at the ballpark) that I needed to go and I was taking the P.A. Announcer with me. I went to the press box and, not panicking, I told Tommy we needed to go, arrangements were made in about 20 seconds for us to do so seamlessly, and we headed to the hospital. Upon arrival I was forced to ride in a wheelchair (the whole time hearing my brother in my head saying, "What are you?...Handicapped?" because I didn't think I needed the chair), we check in to L&D where they promptly collected my information for billing purposes (capitalism at its finest), and then we headed into the exam room after I changed into a stylish tie-front mumu and hospital-provided cozy socks with rubber treads on the bottom. I'm quite proud to say Tommy and I remained calm and collected throughout the whole ordeal. I was hooked up to a baby heart monitor, which registered the babies heart rate and allowed us to hear the sweet sweet sound of the heartbeat loud and clear. The NP felt my belly ("Oh, it's still soft, that's good.") And asked if I was having contractions. "They'll feel like menstrual cramps," she told me. "I've never had a menstrual cramp," I replied. She just looked at me, to which I said, "I have no idea what I'm in for, huh." She just smiled and shook her head.

The doctor eventually found us (we were about to take bets on whether or not he got lost)and after a short, but make no mistake, thorough, exam he pronounced everything to be perfectly fine. "Wierd stuff happens sometimes," he told us. The main concern would have been that there were ruptured membranes, which is fancy doctor-speak for saying my water had broken. But it didn't - all membranes were intact and everything was as it should be. So, I begrudgingly (sense the sarcasm) changed out of my mumu and tire socks, we breathed a collective sigh of relief, and went home.

So that's the story for all who wanted to hear - and for those who didn't, well, you just got to know me a little better on the "I'm-not-sure-I-can-look-you-in-the-eye-the-next-time-I-see-you" level. We have had no issues since, everything has been fabulous - not even anything I would consider calling the advice line about. I took the day off after "the scare" and have been careful to rest plenty ever since. Okay. Tommy still tells me to slow down and refuses to let me do work sometimes, but I'm getting better at restraining myself. That's all for now, more to come. Stockton rules.