Marshall and I had our last (tearful) ob appointment today.  Nurse Tammy asked how I was doing as I stepped on the scale.

I burst into tears.

Marshall passed his non-stress test again with “good oxygenation” and “accelerations.”
My blood pressure is high. Not dangerously so but concerning for someone whose blood pressure is generally low enough to have people joke “are you alive?”

And then there’s the contractions. They are mostly imperceptible by me but according to the monitor were 2 minutes-ish apart and short. At this rate, according to Dr K, Nurse Tammy, and what little I know of natural birth, it could take days if not weeks for my body to allow Marshall’s evacuation. And quite frankly I’d rather be shot (as I confessed to Nurse Tammy)…give me morphine and scalpels please.

Nurse Tammy sat with me today and listened to my endless chatter (I am typically quiet but when I’m stressed, I don’t shut up) until Dr K came in. He analyzed the printout of the nonstress test.

He mentioned something about “checking [my] cervix.” I said absolutely not. He stated he’s in town today and tomorrow. And issued direct orders to go to the ER in the same town as his office if we “have an emergency situation.” I agreed. Then filled him in on our plans to head out to Boston.

“Let us know how you make out. We’re sending our prayers.”

I thanked him profusely. Nurse Tammy was in another exam room as I left so sadly I couldn’t extend any more thanks or even a “proper” (not that there is one) goodbye.
I wanted to hug them both for putting up with me.

When duty calls…