I don't think I've ever posted the official diagnosis of what's going on with my embattled self. It's called PROM, or pPROM. Preterm Premature Rupture of Membranes. (AKA: The Thing That Happens To Pregnant Women That Really Fucking Sucks A Whole Lot And That Is Scarier Than Anything You Could Ever Imagine, or TTTHTPWTRFSAWLATISTAYCEI. PROM is way easier to remember, though.)

Whenever the nurses leave the computer monitor on in my room and I can sneak a peek at the other patients (never any names, just room numbers, how dilated they are, who their doctor is and what status their membranes are in) I search in vain for other PROM patients. There are SROMs (spontaneous rupture - that's at full term, I think) and AROMs (assisted rupture) but never any other PROMs. That's good for the other pregnant people in the world.

Once there was a BBOW and I had to look it up on google because I didn't know what it was. Bulging Bag of Waters in case you're interested. That's not a good one to have when you're 18 weeks like she was. Though at a different time a nurse told me a great story about a woman who had BBOW at 19 weeks, was checked into the hospital and basically hung upside down like a bat for ELEVEN WEEKS until her baby was born perfectly healthy. Apparently, this BBOW lady had some gigantor boobs that practically smothered her the entire time she was upside down. So, yeah, at least my boobs aren't trying to suffocate me through all of this.

I was just sitting here wondering, other than being killed by boobs, what other situation would be yucky enough to make me happy to be in my situation. Being forced to run a marathon in China would qualify, I think. But more aptly, I started wondering which was worse, this PROM or my high school prom.

PROM - minute-by-minute life and death uncertainty
prom - minute-by-minute boy catastrophes

PROM - gigantic blood-type cross and screen bracelet strapped on wrist
prom - gigantic perfume-sprayed white flower strapped on wrist

PROM - stuck in bed with a view of a rooftop pipe thing
prom - stuck in Mazda with a view of the driver's hash pipe thing

PROM - encouraged to  dull my senses with sleeping pills and screechy uterine monitoring devices
prom - encouraged to dull my senses with pot and screechy Mariah Carey slow dances

PROM - healthcare costs astronomical
prom - hair care costs astronomical

PROM - unpredictable gushing of various body fluids
prom - unpredictable gushing of various body fluids

PROM - gown is air-conditioned in the back
prom - gown was tight and hot

As you can see, it's really a toss up. I'm going to have to go with PROM for being shittier. Though at least now I can wear comfortable clothes and I don't have to fuss with a strapless push up bra.

27 weeks 3 days. That's where we are today. Sunday night was another "oh shit, is it time?" night, with contractions 3-6 minutes apart for hours and hours. But we made it through.

Even a Mazda and a hash pipe couldn't make this chaos more insane.

But, really, who needs the Four Seasons on Maui when it comes to brewing up a little baby for three more weeks than anyone expected. My view might not be great, the food might be fairly tragic, my mood may often be even worse, but this is the place for me.

As many sleeping pills as you want (equally as many stool softeners, if you're into that), some opiates for good measure on the really bad days (which, by the way, SUCK. Fuck that opiate noise), and some exciting heart-racing tocolytics to keep the contractions at bay... it's a pharmaceutical lollapalooza. Though, admittedly, I decline pretty much everything. What would happen if I took an Ambien and then sleepwalked out of my room and drove around town and tried to make out with strangers? The commercials warn of these things, you know. Mostly, though, I hate the Ambien hangover.

There are always friendly people peeking into my underpants, and asking about my kids (sometimes at the same time!). The TV works. There's an OT lady intent on making me paint a ceiling tile. And there is constant hammering and drilling because the L&D floor is under construction. What's not to love, really?

Morgan, Laura, Laura II, Summer, LaRhonda, Melissa, Kristin, Katherine, Christine, Mary Lou, Bertha, Jennifer, Becky, Julie, Stephanie, Jenny (the best person to give shots ever) and many, many more who's names I can't remember. These have all been my nurses, and they've all been very nice. There was the one exception of Super Chatty Nurse telling me all about her dog's strangulated testicle and her own loss of a 20-something week twin, and another exception of Nurse Who Made Me Pee In A Bedpan Because She Was Freaking Out, but really, they've all been nice.

And it's nice to know that when things start spiraling into OH SHIT, they are here to help. It's also fun to talk to them about their kickball team. A nice distraction when you're getting 6 terb shots.

Yesterday was not a great day for me emotionally. The wee-er one has entered the "why" stage and she said "Mommy come?" when it was time for her to leave. I said I couldn't and then the "whys" started. It made me very, very sad. She will grab my arm and say "Mommy come now?" and it is all I can do to keep it together. I have come up with a story about magnets in my butt that won't let me leave the bed. Kind of ridiculous, but it makes her laugh when I pretend to struggle against them.

Of all the struggles, why is the pretend one the hardest?

For lunch I have had a grilled cheese, a half a BBQ pork sandwich, vegetable soup, potato wedges, and a brownie (with another brownie I am saving for later). It is still not the best food I've ever had, but it is also not meat crepes (thanks, Claire, for that disgusting, but apt description).

They are also bringing me snacks now. Cheese and crackers or PB and crackers for 10 am and 2pm, and a sandwich and fruit for 10pm. Again, it's kind of gross (sweaty american cheese slice, anyone? Moldy strawberries?) But I give them credit for knowing that grouchy hospitalized pregnant ladies get fucking hungry.

Also props to my friends who bring by non-moldy fruit and non-sweaty cheese and candy and trail mix and all sorts of yummy things.

Food. Good. Hospital. Sucks. Expectations. Lowered. Need. Salt.

Tired.

The plan would be to make it downstairs, hail a cab, ride to the airport, buy the first ticket on the earliest flight to Hawaii and then run away away away.

How far could I get with no pants and $11? I would at least settle for a margarita in the airport bar. Or even a bloody mary. Somehow that one seems more appropriate.

6 shots of terbutaline and one nightmare of a stadol trip later things calmed down. No one expected to make it through the day without delivering him, but here we are. We may only have five more minutes or hours until the red alert begins again, but yesterday is over.

Weren't we just talking about ups and downs? Damn.

I mean, I truly sincerely desperately hope not, but you have to admit that through all of the crazy ass shit in this pregnancy, this would be the predictible way for it all to come together.

Peaks and valleys
Apexes and bases
Waves and trenches
Horns and tails
Elbows and asses
As and Fs
:)s and :(s
Jon Stewarts and rush limbaughs
Dirty carpets and swept cherrywood
Almost OKs and extra shitties

Anybody have any other good ones?

Note the sprig of parsley. Classy!

Also note: I ATE some of this and it wasn't as gross as you'd think. But I am desperate and depressed. My husband is out on a hunt for better food. If he gets something good I will forgive him for getting me pregnant.

Oh, the humor. It is dark today.

Kari's mood is
scared shitless <----x--------------------------->hopeful

Kari's boredom level is
losing her mind<-----------------------x--------->doing ok

The amniotic fluid level is
decreasing<---x------------------------------->increasing

The food situation is
starvation diet<---------------------------x--->gorging

The doctors are being
asshats<--------------------x------------------>very helpful

Kari's toenails are
needing new polish<-----------x----------------> still shiny

The rest of the family is
going a bit nutty<---------x-------------------> having a good day

Because a leg clot would also suck.

It is as if leg warmers and a blood pressure cuff mated.

Everything is less minute by minute and more second by second now, but reading the comments from you guys helps.

Thanks again to everyone. Please keep those good thoughts and prayers and everything headed our way.

And in case you were wondering, after you've been on a clear liquid diet, hospital food (especially chicken fried steak) kicks ass.

Thanks for any good thoughts and well wishes you have to spare.

"...the tide of muddle had advanced inexorably."

That is the perfect description of my brain.

Continued thanks to you all. It is not fun to be a ticking time bomb, but knowing you all are out there is still a true comfort. I hope that it is not greedy to ask for continued good thoughts and prayers.