You may now breathe at your own pace and distance.

Events from Saturday, ie contractual activity, at least thats what the OB called the low grade every ten minute contractions I had until some drug intervention at the ob department seem to have spurred minor contractions with any amount of too much activity on my part. So in otherwords, if I chase DJ up the stairs or carry too heavy of a load of laundry down to the basement, I start contracting again. Apparently, despite the kids’ paratrooper paternity this kids seems to be yet another determined red light jumper, a joke we made alot after DJ decided he was coming at 33 weeks and 2 days gestation. To understand this joke, watch the band of Brothers part 2, specifically  as they are being tossed out of the planes over Normandy beach. Ideally, the green light for jumping from the plane, as its been explained to me by paratrooper hubby, comes on as they are over the dropzone. Any jumps made prior to the green light being on, potentially can harm the paratroopers on terrain features or otherwise. So after speaking with Dr again, the old army attage of a medical profile thats has very strict limitations comes to mind. In an injury relating to a lower extremity typically the army will issue a no run jump march profile,  ie the soldier is not permitted to Run jump or march during the alloted recovery time of the profile to prevent exaggerating an injury.  In more serious injury or illness more restrictive profiles are set by doctors, that often time get poked fun at by other soldiers and referred to as breathe or vegetate at own pace and distance.  In my case currently, with more activity equalling contracting activity, OB has said less is more.  Don’t go running up the stairs, don’t push yourself with your history of preterm baby,  no more of this riding horses notion, let husband do the laundry or cut the loads in half so your not lifting a lot of weight etc. Or by Army terms, breathe at your own pace and distance, and do not do anything that may tell the baby to prepare to come out.  We’ll see how it goes.

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall…

It’s taken me 3 ish days to finally get my head straight to write this up. Saturday was much like any other Saturday, hubby had gone out to the farm and DJ and I were slowly making our rounds to get laundry done and hanging out at the house. I had finally gotten myself in the shower, when I started to feel a little light headed and decided I would get back out and sit down with DJ for a bit til my head cleared. I remember turning off the water and attempting to open to shower curtain to step out. I do not remember the falling portion itself, but remember hearing my phone clatter to the floor with me off the counter. I came to staring at my son’s step stool for the bathroom, and seeing my phone on the floor. My head was wet and pounding, my whole right side was on the floor, my ribs protesting the most. I reached over to the phone and called my husband. In his own words, it sounded like a crying drunk dial, with one in particular statement sticking out to him. (Me to him) ” I think… I think I fell getting out of the tub.” Without missing a beat, his uncanny response “well, are you on the floor? Then you probably fell.” He came home as soon as he could get out of the no man’s land field he was working out on the farm. In the meantime I tried unsuccessfully to pull myself up to a sitting position, my right side not cooperating in the least. Somewhere in the midst of the chaos in the bathroom, in should walk my 4 year old, grabbing his butt and stating that he needed to poop. Most less adjusted to weirdness type of kids may have seen Mommy on the floor hurt and sat down and cried with Mommy. Not my stoic little man. He was kind enough to hand me a towel, then proceeed onto asking me about falling out of the tub, immediately followed by moving his stool out of the entryway of the bathroom, stepping over mommy, and going potty. The action in his way, caused him to have a small accident, but he was so worried about mommy cleaning his underwear so he strippped them off, tried to give me the underwear, and got himself all wiped up. I told him to go find fresh underwear, thanks to the lack of laundry that had been folded thus far, he had an abundance of selection on the couch. And as if I could cue it up for a friday night sitcom, in comes Husband, immediately followed by my mother in law. As most Army stories go, so there I was sprawled on the bathroom floor  covered in a towel, while my 4 year was running around the living room half naked. Hubby, got me helped up to a sitting position, while mother in law first got the 4 year old corraled and into some clothes. Then as Aaron is walking betweene the living room and bathroom, I hear him tell his mom she doesnt need to fold the laundry. I may be feeling like total crap, but that is suddenly my cue to immmediately yell from the bathroom “oh no, please dont fold the laundry”, as if having someone helping to fold laudry was really the worst thing that was happening at the moment. Mother in law, offers to take DJ out to her house while Aaron takes me to the hospital. And off we went. In th elast month or so, we had an incident where my regular OB was not available , but had been given the run around to the tune of 4 hours on the phone with the VA hospital that my Primary Dr is stationed at as to where to go for such occasions. After that mess, we decided we would just go straight to the VA an hourish drive away just so there would be no questions as to what they wanted me to do this time around.

We get to the VA ER dept, and the DR asssigned to me, literally looked as though I had some sort of anthrax growing out of my head when I explained why we decided to go straight to the VA ER this time around. “But.. your well, uhm, pregnant, and so there’s 2 patients to worry about and most hospitals would just send you to the OB floor after 24 ish weeks. We Don’t have anything to check the baby with.” No kidding, but we weren’t trying to get another black mark on our VA records, because of the last issue we had, husband’s former E6 that had already been given first look at E7 self reappeared during the phonecall craziness and chewed some ass, as they are known to do in the 82nd ABN, and had given us a mark that my case worker felt necessary to tell me later “we do not appreciate getting yelled at, regardless of the situation, some things are out of our control on the phone, and it does not help your case to be disgruntled with us”. So we were transfered via the VA over to the big Catholic University hospital there in Omaha, NE. We were treated quite awesomely by the staff there, but did hafta stay overnight for observation, along with getting a few things scanned and xrayed just to be sure everything was going to be ok. Baby continued on moving like a champ, and finally was still enough for the OB docs to get a long enough read out to send us home.

So the long and the short, we had a fall, but everyone is okay, and we found out that my kid clearly does not suprise easily to mommy being hurt. Apparently it must either be a more regular occurance then I thought orr this kid really just figured Mommy was laying on the bathroom floor playing like he does when he is tired.