I was having a great twin pregancy - still working as a 7th grade teacher and loving it, eating lots of protein, drinking tons of water, babies growing beautifully, adoring my weight gain, not stressing, not worrying - just enjoying.
And then, I went in for a 20-week ultrasound to have the babies measured, and I found out I was in pre-term labor. What are you talking about? Me? Nooooo. Can't be. I'm doing everything right. It can't be.
Twenty minutes later, I was admitted to the hospital, shot up with Brethine to stop my "every two-minutes" contractions (which I never felt), and hooked up to an IV for fluids. The contractions lessened with the Brethine and fluids. Unfortunately, my cervix had shortened to 2.2cm and was funneling. I asked the nurse about work. "Work? No, no sweetie. You're not going back to work." What? This just can't be.
Since 20 weeks, I have been discharged from the hospital, admitted by the peri, discharged by the ob/gyn, and admitted by the peri yet again. And here I lay . . . 24 weeks in the hospital with a terbutaline pump in my leg, still experiencing 4 - 6 contractions an hour, and a 2.2 cm cervix that refuses to stop funneling.
I'll never dance around with these babies in my belly; I missed Thanksgiving at home and dread missing Christmas; I won't be able to decorate the nursery; and I have 24/7 to sit and think about blood clots, NICU, pre-term delivery, more meds, and all of the things that can still happen between now and then.
This is definitely not the pregnancy I ordered.