I am convinced that this was the one appointment for him to miss, as what happened next may have put him over the edge with worry. I was lying down for my ultrasound, head propped a bit to see the screen, a pillow beneath my knees for support. I watched the screen as the crabby sonogropher rattled off body parts. "Baby is lying head down, on his side...here's his foot, see his big toe..." Huh, I thought to myself, I'm kinda dizzy. "Here's his spine...let's measure his head..." whoah, really dizzy. I'll breathe through it and be just fine. I'm already lying down anyway. "Here's the length from elbow to wrist..." I should tell her I'm not doing well...oh, how my ears are buzzing...was this ultrasound supposed to be under sedation? Here...comes...the black curtain...fading, fading... "Baby is 5 1/2 pounds..." the next thing I knew, a nurse had magically appeared. She held my right hand and the sonographer, crabby face replaced with a terrified one, held my left. The nurse said something about not feeling so well. How did they know I was dizzy? They lowered me back down and propped my feet up. "Let's get some cold wet washclothes, she's really diaphoretic," said the nurse. (Diaphoretic is fancy nurse-speech for "drenched with sweat.") Sure enough, my shirt was soaked. Grody. "I'll get the doctor," the sonographer said, and the nurse rubbed my back and asked if I was better. Her voice was muted as my ears still felt like they were full of water. Really loud, ringing water. When the doctor came in, she mentioned something about my lack of color. The sonographer proceeded to recount how I had become very still and quiet, sat me up, and I began speaking gibberish. That's when she yelled for the nurse. "I don't remember any of that.
The last thing I remember was I just hearing 5 1/2 pounds." It was clear that I had lost consciousness for a while, and the concerned providers concluded that I had a major blood pressure drop from weird positioning, a pinched something or other than cut off blood flow to my head.
It was decided that as long as I was next door to my cardiologist, it would be good to be checked out there, too. Oh, did I mention that I got a call from one of my cardiologists the other day to tell me that my model of pacemaker has been recalled as there have been "incidents" of them failing? That was one of the thoughts that came to my fuzzy blood-deprived brain as I drifted out of consciousness. Wouldn't that just be perfect? A failed pacemaker in a pregnant woman. I got checked out my a pacemaker tech and two cardiologists there, and all is fine. To be on the safe side, I am wearing a portable EKG (heart monitor) for 24 hours to track what my heart is actually doing.
My heart is pretty happy today, that's how it's doing. I am so grateful for incredible and local family. "Did you drive?" the nurse asked me. Oh, I drove, and I had an 8-hour work day in front of me, which I promptly cancelled. I called my parents and within minutes all was arranged to have my Dad come get me, drive me home to pick up an overnight bag, and spend the day and evening with them, supervised. "Whatever we do, we are doing together today," my Dad said. My heart couldn't be happier. I love spending time with my parents. He pulled into McDonalds and ordered me a milkshake. We went to see "Up" (which I highly, no pun intended, recommend.) We had pizza for dinner. I got spoiled rotten. I updated my worried husband all along the way, of course, who knows full well that if anybody can best him at worrying about his wife, it's my parents. Thanks, Dave, he texted.
Really, there's nothing to worry about. Baby is fine. I'm fine. And I had a really, really great day.
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