June 22

I'd now been in the hospital for a week.  It was hard to believe.  The whole experience was so surreal.  It felt like one long day . . . or a year . . . or a week . . . any and all depending on when you would talk to me.  I still couldn't quite believe any of this was my real life, that this was really happening to me.  We had a lot more hope now than we'd had a week ago and things seemed better, but it was still so uncertain.  There was no guarantee that things were going to work out the way we wanted them to, but again, it was better than a week ago.  I was still showing no signs of infection, our daughter was moving and had a strong heartbeat, I wasn't bleeding or cramping, the activity (while minimal) seemed to be going OK, the cerclage was holding.  I was now officially at 22 weeks.  All positive things that gave us some hope.  I was still not allowing myself to get too hopeful, but everything was going so much better than the doctor had thought it would that I couldn't help but get my hopes up a little.  Maybe we were actually going to make it past the critical first milestone . . . maybe even more.

Today went a lot like yesterday.  I had the same level of activity and was sitting up a few other times besides when I ate.  The on call high risk doctor came to see me in the early afternoon.  She said that things still looked good and that as long as nothing changed between now and when she came in the next day, I'd be going home tomorrow.  I was excited about this prospect: my own bed! being able to eat non-hospital food (although overall it wasn't too bad)! being in my own home! I was also concerned: what if something happens? can we get to the hospital quickly enough? getting in the car every week for a doctor appointment (the ride home at this point sounded like an ordeal and I was going to have to do that once a week?!)? I got a surprise visit from a friend that evening that lifted my sprits.  I had so many mixed feelings about going home (obviously) and it was nice to talk to her about them in person.

Since Adam was off for the weekend he stayed with me that night.  We were both pretty exhausted, but it was nice to have some alone time to talk and just be with each other.  I felt bad he had to sleep in the chair that turns into a bed again, but I was glad to have him there.  Our Mothers and his sister spent a lot of the day continuing to get the house ready for me to come home.  We were all on pins and needles.  I could tell that others had concerns about me going home (especially my Mom) but we all tried to think positively.  Surely I wouldn't be allowed to go home if they didn't think that things were OK, so it was a good thing.  We all hoped so anyway.