Medieval Woman HQ has now become Bedrest HQ.
Last week we were all in a kerfuffle - on Wednesday, exactly 15 minutes after TD left for the airport to go back to the Motherland to get his work visa (he is SO legal now, btw!), I was told I had to check into the hospital for 24 hours for observation and testing for pre-eclampsia. I tried to tell the doctor (a different one from our own Dr. Canadienne) that I have a history of hypertension, but she didn't believe me. I tried to tell her that I was worried about Guy and Miles and that was obviously making my BP spike and she didn't believe me again.
So, there I was in the hospital alone, crying on the phone to TD who was about to board his transatlantic flight. Fortunately, Medieval Mom was coming into town later that evening for a visit and our awesome friends J and A picked her up and brought her to hang out with me "in stir". After over 24 hours of being stuck in a little room, the results were...
I don't have pre-eclampsia. I just have high blood pressure. So, though I'm still on bedrest (but not the Gestapo kind), it's not as bad as we feared.
But here's what sparked all the stress:
At our last ultrasound, Guy had turned into the Incredible Hulk baby, and - no doubt fortified by gamma radiation - seemed to have gained* almost a pound and a half in two weeks. Miles, however, didn't seem to have gained much at all - only a couple of ounces.
This discrepancy is, of course, very distressing and I was worried to death about my little Miles (hence the BP spike, Dr. Conservative!). So, we went to the special hospital ultrasound people and they did more measurements and concluded that they were only 1 pound rather than 1 1/2 pounds apart. It's still a big and sudden margin, though, and they blamed it on the fact that I no doubt have horrible pre-eclampsia and Dr. Conservative started saying I'd be "lucky" to make it to 36 weeks and talking about long term hospitalization until that time.
Now, I'm all for better safe than sorry, but this was ridiculous! And so my treacherous BP creeped higher the more they took it, supposedly confirming their dire diagnosis. Bastards.
But, after all the hub-bub, it all seemed blown out of proportion (for once, not by me) and so I'm ensconced on the couch and bed for the duration - but it's better than the hospital! We have another measuring ultrasound next Thursday and we'll see if Miles has caught up a bit. If not, then we'll have an early c-section to get him on the outside to chub up. I'm not unenthusiastic about this possibility - I'd be happy to get off the couch.
The funny thing about this whole scenario? The boys are completely fine - they move constantly, they practice their breathing, their heartbeats are great, they're totally strong awesome little dudes. They sit in the eye of the hurricane of panic and ultrasounds and tests in which I become embroiled with their little fingers making the "whatever" sign...
Excuse me, I must now pay-per-view "Hot Tub Time Machine"...
* I say "seem to have gained" b/c ultimately we don't know for sure - the margin of error for late term ultrasounds is actually 1.5 pounds! They could weigh exactly the same (although you can see that Guy is chunkier than Miles).