As happy as I am that we made it to the 28 week mark, I found that the euphoria only carried me so far, and by Monday morning I had resorted to my usual coping activities: reading frivolous books and watching videos. Oh, and napping.
I can't help but wonder what it is exactly that I need to escape from. As much as you'd think I'd be getting cabin fever from spending over a month in this room, I don't really feel the walls closing in on me. I still like the glimpse of the Hollywood Hills outside my window.
I enjoy my daily 15 minute wheelchair excursions. Although I had to forego it yesterday due to Obama's visit to LA last night; his motorcade drove right through Beverly Hills during evening rush hour. So, it took Bubble Daddy and Bubble Girl nearly 2 hours to get here (usually takes :20-30). Many of the nurses couldn't get in on time for the evening shift, so it was tough to track down someone to help with the wheelchair before it got to be too late. But I didn't find skipping a day all that upsetting.
I do, as you may have heard, get annoyed by the food. The constant interruptions are tedious. I get poked by needles about 6 times a day. Etc. And there are any number of other seemingly trivial things that wear me down throughout the course of the day.
So, I was trying to pinpoint what I'm having the most trouble coping with, and I've come up with two things. First the isolation, coupled with the constant interaction with hospital staff. While I have gotten to know many of the people here, I'm still constantly meeting new people. I've been here 33 days and I've had 34 different nurses care for me, and my two nurses today were people I'd never met. One of the reasons I like to stay up late here is that it gets quieter and I get a few hours in a row without interruptions, so I can relax a little bit. But the quiet can also be unsettling, especially if something comes up that is upsetting. For example, a few nights ago at 2am, the baby's heart rate became erratic, and they had to keep me on the monitors all night long. I didn't want to call Bubble Daddy and wake him for something that would make him worry, deprive him of much needed sleep, and quite probably not really mean that I was suddenly going to have to deliver. I just had to wait til morning to talk to the Dr. about if we should make any changes in my care, etc. And my Dr. is on vacation, so it would depend on the covering Dr., whom I didn't know as well. As it turned out, the baby's heart rate was stable for the subsequent 7-8 hours, and I went back to my normal routine.
The other thing that's been difficult to accept is how utterly useless I feel. The activities, responsibilities, and routines which seemed to shape not only my daily life, but my identity have all had to be put aside. While I worry about the exhaustion Bubble Daddy is coping with now that he has to do all the parenting tasks, I find myself grieving the loss of my share of that role while I'm stuck here. Bubble Daddy and I have so little time together, just to sit and share meals, conversation, watching baseball. And my ability to concentrate on writing my dissertation is erratic, at best.
So, now I understand why I keep turning to my little escapes. And most times they work.
