I woke up in a funk today, not sure why. I had an appointment with my midwife — my first “trip” away from home since I ruptured last week, so I should have been elated just to get out of the house. Tyler came home to drive me, and on the way to the clinic I looked at my notebook and realized we were 45 minutes late for the appointment. Great. I screwed up the time with my ultrasound next month. I called the clinic and we drove there anyway; she could see me in an hour. Once I got there, we didn’t have to wait at all.
I wish everyone could have someone in their lives like my midwife, Deb. We met her before we got pregnant and we both just knew that we wanted her to be on this journey with us. Now, I thank God that she is.
I shouldn’t have been surprised when Deb walked into my hospital room last week on her day off. She hugged me for a long time and we cried. She had encouraging things to say and set the pace for my positive attitude thus far. Despite the likelihood that my primary health care will fall into the hands of a team of doctors at the hospital, she assured me that she’d continue to be part of my care and support team. I’m so grateful for that, for her.
After a little pep talk with Deb, we took a listen to the baby’s heart beat. Strong, loud and clear! So good to hear. I remembered to ask about my amniotic fluid index (AFI) from my last ultrasound. I thought it was 2 or 3 cm. According to the American Pregnancy Association, normal fluid levels may vary, but are usually considered an AFI of 5-25 cm. My AFI last Wednesday was 6.7 cm!!! It’s still on the low-end, but it was fantastic news to me. Some women go for months with no measurable fluid and go on to deliver babies that make it. My AFI will fluctuate daily and at different times of the day based on the fluid I lose and the fluid baby produces. I will receive my next AFI July 16.
At that point, my day turned a corner rather quickly and got even better when two of my best girlfriends dropped by for a visit. They brought me lots of essentials — soap, mirror, underwear, toothpaste, magazines, etc. — and a new pair of pajamas and a robe!
Hey, if I can’t wear cute pregnant lady outfits, at least I can wear cute PJ’s.