It happened last Monday night. I was sitting down after a long day and pulled off my socks. To my horror, my ankles were missing. In their place were huge mounds of flesh as large as my calves. I immediately called my husband in tears to tell him of my latest discovery. In his defense, there is really not much you can say when it is painfully obvious that I was swelling up like the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man. He tried to reassure me that all women get swollen at the end of their pregnancy. I was not to be consoled.
Each day I seemed to get larger, but I kept pushing through, doing my normal workouts, errands, etc. I just assumed this is what happened to all pregnant women. And that Friday, I was leaving town with a group of girls for one last hurrah before Josie’s birth (yes, it was the VERY last weekend I could travel, and I did have my Dr’s permission). But baby Josie had different plans.
An hour before I was to jet off to Branson (I had my money set aside for the Coach outlet and everything), I went to my doctor for my normal check up. Apparently, I was so swollen I startled my Doc, and I had put on 12 pounds of water weight in a week. I had protein in my urine, blood pressure was high and my face was almost unrecognizable. He told me I needed to do a 24 hour urine sample, and not comprehending the situation, I asked him how I was going to do this from Branson. He just laughed and said, “Marnie, you aren’t going anywhere except the hospital.” And that is when it hit me. I am no longer in control.
With preeclamptic symptoms and early contractions (I had no idea!) I was sent to Labor and Delivery where I spent the better part of Valentine’s Day weekend (Happy Valentine’s Day honey…our first married one) with monitors, IV’s and people poking and prodding me all day long. When it was apparent I was not going to go into labor, Doc sent me home on bed rest. None of this was on my to-do list.
Shane was going to spend the weekend getting the nursery ready while I was out of town and that was obviously shot to hell too. I had to have bed rest specifically spelled out for me. (Can I do laundry? Exercise? Drive? Cook? Clean? Play with the kids?) All were met with a resounding NO. Reality started to set in and I had a major meltdown. We hadn’t even so much as purchased a diaper yet! (Yes, I know I have known about this baby for a while now, but as you can tell I’m a bit of a procrastinator).
I’m on day four of bed rest (you would think with all this time I would have started my blog post before now), and am about to climb the walls. I’m trying to enjoy the downtime before hurricane Josie arrives, but instead I find myself growing anxious with obsessing about all that needs to happen. Thank goodness for my dear family and friends, they have definitely stepped up to the plate to help me get things done.
For this self proclaimed control freak, this episode has been a huge slap in the face. Let alone all the funky things that are happening to my body; I’ve had to learn how (very reluctantly) to let go of the tightly held grip I have on my life. Going back to the Dr. today – but this time our bags are packed, just in case.