I'm a simple person.
I love my job.
I'm satisfied to stay home and clean up.
Sometimes though, a little break is nice.
On Tuesday my Dr. Appointment turned into a 5 hour hospital stay.
I enjoyed every minute.
My good Dr. T has signed me up for weekly NST's (non-stress tests) to check on baby. On Tuesday during a contraction, the baby's heart rate dropped and I knew instantly what that meant: A little visit to Labor and Delivery.
"Go on over, they're expecting you."
A quick trip through the drive through for food, a stop by the hospital gift shop for magazines and gum and I was hooked up with some monitoring straps. My boys were safe and sound at home with Brent and so I took complete advantage of the fact that I was alone and had to stay put.
Nurse Debbie, who has been there for at least 2 of my children's deliveries, commented how this was routine for me ( I was in several times before Britton was born) and she was sure that I would get to 38 or 39 weeks with this baby too and how she was excited I was having a girl so we would have three and three. She must be a quick chart reader because there's no way she could remember this.
The second she left the room I scanned cable TV. It didn't take me long to find a show which was just what I was looking for (home improvement and then wedding cake designs)
After a super ultrasound scan and long term monitoring, they let me go home. I knew everything was just fine, but I was now craving cake. I about called Kenley to ask if she could whip me something fancy up, but settled on making Chocolate Bran Muffins for dinner to have with our soup.
Ok, baby girl, during next week's test, just a little cooperation please. Don't get me wrong: once was enjoyable, but it's just not practical to spend 5 hours a week in the hospital just so I can watch a little cable TV.
