Jane from L.A.: Twenty-three weeks pregnant today. Twenty-two days since the procedure. Twenty-two days since I've seen the outside of my bedroom. Twenty minutes since my house call from my doctors, who managed to borrow a mini ultrasound machine (more on that later). They were so proud of themselves as they stood on my porch, high-fiving in the rain ....
The ultrasound was as perfect as it could be. He's measuring right on for 23 weeks, and my cervix is still competent. More high-fiving. They were happy. I'm happyish. I still have a loooooooong way to go. They still worry about my water breaking and whatnot. And they don't want me moving from my bed until at least 30 weeks, and getting off bedrest until ... well, I don't know when. Bah humbug. We may have to push back the move to the new house a couple weeks. I guess it could be worse.
So how is bedrest, you ask? I'm not going to lie: It's pretty dreadful.
Willa has turned her back on me like Paulie did to Henry Hill in "Goodfellas." She's mad at me because I can't pick her up when she's crying or get down on the floor to play or put her to bed at night or come get her in the morning. She only wants Daaadaaa and Karen the nanny, to whom she has grown ridiculously attached. I've become that weird, dreadlocked lady who lives in the bedroom down the hall. Remember the naked dance she used to do after a bath? I barely get a tush wiggle. And now that she knows the meaning of the word "no," she gets great pleasure in yelling that at me when I ask her if she wants Mommy to give her a bottle before bed. Awesome.
Speaking of dreadlocks, I got a haircut the other day while lying with my hair draped over the side. It was a first for me and my hairstylist.
Eating in bed is not as glamorous as it sounds. I lie on my right side and eat with my left hand while food and drink spill all over the place. Crumbs everywhere. It's gross. And forget about digestion. It's impossible to metabolize anything lying down. I'm like a slug with a constant stomachache.
I shower every few days and Joe stands there and times me. If I'm taking longer than two minutes, he'll knock on the shower door and do the "wrap it up" sign.
There's more, but you get the picture. Junior seems healthy, so I'm good. Thank God my parents are here and I have Joe and my wonderful friends and family. It is certainly taking a village. I am lucky.
* "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
Post 4: Home at Last!