No, G isn’t quite a year old yet. But he could be if he’d cooperated a bit more.
It was a year ago today when I went for my 38 week doctor’s appointment and discovered that my blood pressure was alarmingly high. As in, hustle me right over to the ob triage area for evaluation. And then let me go home to get my stuff (and husband) and then return to the hospital a couple hours later for an induction.
Said induction went nowhere and my blood pressure dropped enough where the doctor felt comfortable letting me go home as long as I spent my time on the couch. Or in bed, or wherever I wanted as long as it was horizontal.
I brought up this anniversary with R last night and he was stunned. Not just that it’d been a year, but that it was so much earlier than G’s final arrival date. He stuck it out in there until he was finally forced out with a surgical eviction following another induction. I asked R if he didn’t remember me sitting on the couch all those days?
“No. Not really.”
Heh. I just remember being so thankful for the tv and my laptop. I couldn’t concentrate enough to read much of anything, so I watched a lot of the food network. That was a bad idea in some ways – I found that I kept wanting to make things they showed, but my time on my feet was limited to things like “waddle to the bathroom” and “shower” so no real cooking for me.
With today being the anniversary of my failed induction, that means that this week (Tuesday I think? I’m less clear on that exact date.) is also the anniversary of my last day at work. That’s somewhat bittersweet. I am 100% thrilled to be home with G, don’t get me wrong, but I miss my friends at work. I try to see them every month or so, but an hour or two every 4 or 5 weeks isn’t the same.