Sunday, October 15 I became 25 weeks pregnant.
Sunday, October 15 my water broke.
It all started that morning before church. The Husband had gone fishing at our camp in south Louisiana for the weekend. So it was just the kids and me at the house.
We’re getting ready to go to church when I feel the urge to go to the bathroom. The next second water is spilling out of me. Not a lot, but enough for me to stop what I am doing and run to the bathroom.
I thought that was odd, but I had heard that for some it is difficult to control those urges when you are pregnant. So I carry on.
About an hour later, as we are about to walk out the door, it happens again. This time I made a mental note to do some research this afternoon to find out what I can do to stop this from happening.
We get to church, I drop Flint off in the nursery, and Stella and I head to her classroom where I am the teacher. My helper and I are getting the children settled to begin the lesson when another urge hits me. I drop what I am doing and head to the bathroom. This time much more water is spilling out of me which proceeds to get my skirt wet and runs down my legs.
I clean up the best I can and inform my helper that I’m going to have to leave. Something is not quite right.
I gather my kids and head to my car. All the while water keeps coming. A little here. A little there. I get to the car and begin to strap Flint into his car seat. When I move there is a wet spot on the asphalt where I had been standing. I move around to strap Stella into her seat. Again, once I move, I notice a wet spot on the ground.
I head home to clean up and call my mom on the way, who in turn advises me to call my doctor’s office. I call, and they tell me to go ahead and get checked out at the hospital. So as I head home to clean up, I call Ragan to let him know what’s going on. The nurse I talked to didn’t seem too concerned, so I wasn’t too concerned, but I wasn’t driving slow either.
I get home, clean up, throw a few clothes in a bag and head to the hospital. After I get there and into a room, we do a couple of tests to determine if my water has actually broken. It has.
The next few hours are a bit of a blur. I get hooked up to iv’s. I’m told I really need to make it to 34 weeks. I do the math. It’s not hard. That’s nearly 10 weeks away. Two and a half months. In a hospital. In a bed.
I’m told the next 72 hours are critical. The steroid shots they give me need 72 hours to reach the baby in order to help his lungs develop. The magnesium they give me is to help stop any contractions and help protect his brain. The antibiotics they give me is to help fight against infection – which is inevitable because my water has broken.
So now we wait.
We wait to see if I have any contractions. We wait to see if an infection develops. Time passes by, and I have no contractions. I get no infections. I pass the 72 hour marker.
My mind finally begins to clear. I’m here for the long haul. We’ll do ultrasounds every Monday and Thursday. Lab work is done every 72 hours. The first ultrasound showed the baby weighing 1 pound 14 ounces and in the breach position. We have a long way to go. However, every day this baby boy stays put inside me, that’s two less days he’ll have to be in the NICU. So I’m getting comfy.
- 72 hours – October 18 – passed!
- 10 days – October 25
- 28 weeks – November 5
- 30 weeks – November 19
- 34 weeks – December 17