No-Bleeding Count: Six Days

From last Friday morning to this morning, it’s been six days since I’ve had pre-term placental bleeding.   Last night, my nightmares weren’t so transparent as to include bleeding episodes; instead, they were out-of-control dreams, because, of course, even being on bed rest, I have no control over my low-lying placenta.

But, for six straight days, my placenta hasn’t been problematic. 

For six straight days, my super-active son, 26 weeks in utero, has elbowed and kicked and rolled and somersaulted, reassuring me with each movement. 

So, even though bed rest may or may not be beneficial, based on research, I will follow my doctors’ orders to the T because bed rest I can control.  And, if I stay on bed rest, I won’t be able to blame myself if my son is born pre-term.  If I stay on bed rest, it will be in God’s hands alone, if worse-case scenario occurs. 

Actually, being a life-long, guilt-ridden Catholic, I’ll forever be racked with what-ifs if anything bad happens to my son, but, if I stay on bed rest, I’ll be able to rationally fight the feelings of self-blame. 

Therefore, here I am, a high-energy, go-go-go woman, reclining on the couch, laptop on my thighs, bulging belly hanging over the keyboard, with the phone, my calendar, my To-Do list and anything else I know I’ll need stacked on the coffee table next to me. 

My friends are driving my son, nearly 5, to and from preschool and also soccer, the only one of his extracurricular activities I didn’t have to cancel:  Because he is taking the soccer class with three friends, he’ll always have a ride. 

My friend and fellow room parent Carmen conducted the final interviews with my son’s classmates and shot the last pictures I need for the book I’m writing and designing as a class fundraiser for the preschool.  With content and pictures in hand, I can do the rest on my laptop.

When my son is home, he’s my helper, running to grab the scissors, then walking slowly back with them pointed to the floor; retrieving the newspapers from our front sidewalk; or bringing me a Zone® bar when I’m hungry for a snack.  Because I have to be sitting or reclining, we’re spending our free time together playing games like Sorry! and dominoes, plus watching Scooby Doo and Star Wars: The Clone Wars episodes, snuggled up in bed or on the couch.    

My husband, feeling helpless from his office, calls to check on me.  Instead of “Are you bleeding?”, he asks, “How are you feeling?”  I tell him I feel fine, then answer the question he’s afraid to ask:  “And, still no bleeding.”  Then I give him the tally of non-bleeding days, because I know the accumulation makes him feel better too.

Tomorrow, I’ll be 27 weeks pregnant.  My due date is April 23, but 37 weeks is considered full-term, so I know I’ll be released from any restrictions by April 2.  Until then, I will do whatever it takes to keep my little guy where he belongs. 

And, thanks to wonderful friends, my sweet husband and my son, I can do whatever it takes—easily.  However, while the logistics are covered, the mental aspect of bed rest is another issue…

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