Jane from L.A.: Last update for a while, promise. Let's hope I have nothing to write ....
I spent last night in the hospital without the IV port in my hand or visits from the nurse to check my vitals, listen to the baby's heartbeat or administer pills and antibiotics. It was nice. I still didn't sleep that well, but finally fell into an REM pattern around 6:00 AM. That's when Dr. S. -- dressed in scrubs, a fleece vest and sneakers -- flung open my door, flipped on the light and declared, "You are going home today!" I was elated, scared, groggy, excited, panicked and full of questions: How will I get home?! (In a car.) How will I get up the three steps to my door?! (You'll walk.) How will I go to the bathroom?! (Like a human being.) It went on from there, but you get it.
So I'm home, 77 hours post-op (but who's counting?), in bed. Mom and mom-in-law are waiting on me hand and foot and buying me fashionable loungewear. I may get a bell.
Super Joe is setting up a makeshift work station complete with mirrored, angled glasses that allow you to read while lying flat on your back. My reunion with Willa was incredible; Tikka, too. Mom made my fave chicken salad with crunchy bread and cucumber soup and Joe wheeled Willa's highchair into the bedroom so we could have a date. Then she got her bath and took great delight in running into my room completely naked, doing a little jig and running out. She repeated that three times. Oh, and Tikka hasn't left her little bed that's next to my bed since I got home. Sweet.
So that's what's going on in my world of defying gravity. I just need to lie here, as Dr. B. and Dr. S. instructed me to do. Let go and let fate do its thing. Don't panic or be stressed. Take it one day at a time. That won't be hard. I just have to make it past the next few months. And then I'll get out of this bed, do a little dance like Willa did tonight and then I'll stroll into Cedars and have this baby. I hope I make it.
* "Notes from Bedrest" is a new column that features e-mails from a mom who recently experienced bedrest. We are posting her e-mails chronologically in the order she wrote them.
Post 2: Incompetence: Hour 36
Post 3: Defying Gravity