spoiler: this story has a happy ending

I should not be allowed to drive myself anywhere. That’s really what this all boils down to.

I woke up Saturday morning and tried to stave off the impending bathroom visit because I just didn’t want to leave the warm covers. I didn’t last long and finally gave in and made a trip down the hall. I crawled back into bed and looked at my phone, hoping that it would say 4am, meaning I still had three hours before I had two goobers hop into bed with me. The time said 7:09. Darn. I laid there in the dark silence waiting for Three to start moving, like he does every morning. I didn’t feel anything. Weird.

I tried to get comfortable again to no avail. So, I just got up. The couch was calling my name and maybe a change in position would make Three wake up. After half an hour and still no movement, I went to the pantry and got a pack of the girls’ fruit snacks because I figured the sugar would do it. It didn’t.

I wasn’t too worried, he was probably just turned so I couldn’t feel the movements, or maybe he’d had a party while I was sleeping. Who knows. I’d planned to spend most of the morning/early afternoon finishing up a project for a friend and proceeded to do so after my Mini Wheats. The day kind of flew by, and when I’d finished all I had to do it was nearly 6pm and I realized I still had hardly felt Three move. I’d had a couple small “I’m still alive!” movements, but this kid is VERY active EVERY day and I was starting to get a little worried. I held off for a while longer, but after eating, laying down, and still not feeling much of anything, I decided to go get checked out. If it was something for just me, I would have just dealt with it and avoided a doctor; but since someone else’s life is depending on me, I thought it was safer to feel like an idiot and know that everything’s alright.

Noah stayed with the girls and I took off by myself, right after google mapping where the hospital actually is. I’d never been there before. I knew kind of where it was, but didn’t really know how to get there. I knew what exit I had to take and took it and … I was going in the wrong direction. I took the east-bound exit. I needed the west-bound exit. Whoops. I was getting kind of scared because I found myself on a very dark highway with very dirty headlights and I could hardly see where I was going. Thankfully, a couple kilometres down the highway I finally found a place to turn around. Things weren’t much better when I finally found the hospital and then had to find where to park. I may have taken a couple wrong turns. Whoops. Again.

I finally found parking, found an entrance, found a sign that said ADMITTING, and walked toward it. It was for the cancer clinic. Not exactly what I was looking for. I saw another sign marked INFORMATION and was finally pointed in the right direction by the lady behind the desk. Score. I found Emergency, sat down to talk to one of the admitting ladies, and heard the paramedic who was standing next to me start talking about the creepy crawlies on the guy he’d brought in. I wasn’t eavesdropping, I would have had to wear super-powered ear protection to not be able to hear him. I got my wrist band on and followed the directions I’d been given to L&D while avoiding the aforementioned stretcher.

I had the sweetest nurse ever. She had such a look of relief on her face when she put the monitor thing on and heard a heartbeat. She left me with the monitor for a while and when she returned, she was happy with what she saw on the printout thinger. She left it on a while longer, I saw a doctor, and soon I was heading out with an all-is-well stamp. Hospital visits while pregnant are great – I got through Emerg quicker than lightening and I had L&D all to myself. I was only there for a total of an hour and a half, and didn’t spend any time waiting around. The only problem was finding my way back to the parking lot.

I found the parking lot, found my car, headed home, and MISSED MY EXIT. Seriously. You know how most exits exit from the right-hand lane? Well, this one didn’t. Stupid exit. I took the next one though, kind of knew where I was, and just took a huge detour hoping I would end up where I wanted to go. As you can tell from reading this post, I eventually made it home. Next time I have to go to the hospital, I’d better be in labor and Noah had better be driving.

After getting myself a snack of yogurt and blueberries, I sat on the couch and Three decided to have a crazy little party for the next two hours, because OF COURSE HE DID.

Filed under: Preston, angry mom, pregnancy