In and out

More contractions yesterday sent me back to L&D -- for those of you keeping score at home, that would be the SIXTH visit in one month, since my first admission on July 11. Sedate-and-hydrate worked, and after keeping me overnight for observation, I got to come home this morning, grateful to have avoided the mag. Still no dilation and a negative FFN to boot, though the baby can't seem to make up his mind about whether to be breech or vertex).

BTW, I have tried DIY sedate-and-hydrate at home, with adult beverage of choice. I did that toward the end of my last pregnancy, when I was past the point of tocolysis but wasn't continuing to dilate. Lagniappe has all his important bits by now anyway, so it's not like a drink or two will hurt him. I was having contractions Wednesday night -- in retrospect, usually a sign the next day will be bad -- and I got a really dirty look from my husband when I cracked open a Blackhook Porter, but he quieted right down when I told him to think about it as being like five minutes of mag sulfate. I mean, hey, I give the baby Stadol all the darn time, a little alcohol isn't going to do much on top of it.

Why, yes, I *am* a prime candidate for Mother of the Year, now that you mention it.

Anyway, the beer worked on Wednesday night, but not on Thursday. I tried a Phenergan after that (mixing alcohol and heavy-duty prescription drugs! the good parenting just keeps on coming!), but all it did was make me groggy for the three minutes in between contractions. I laid around for a while and felt sorry for myself, and then realized it was probably time to go in -- when I start getting miserable enough to cry, it's time to call it. The contractions don't hurt that bad, but when they're coming right after each other, it gets upsetting, as does the realization that I'm going to have to go in AGAIN.

For real, y'all, I know all the nurses at L&D by name now, as well as all the OBs. I also know the hospital admission clerks, and the lady at the front desk, and the night security guard recognized me the last time I came in after hours. The nurses even know my "good" veins now -- like it's hard, you just look for the marks from the previous IVs that aren't also surrounded by old bruises. It is to laugh, because crying is the only other reasonable alternative.

On the bright side, I have survived four weeks of bedrest, so I'm one-third of the way to my 36-week goal.

52 days to go.