Not Again

Thursday was another one of my "routine" weekly ultrasounds to ensure that the escape hatch was still closed shut. This time, I brought Gunther along. I wanted him to see how things were progressing, but I had this feeling that I was going to need him for more than just that. And how right I was.

1.4 cm. Again. Not horribly surprised... My cervix had been getting shorter over the weeks that I've been going in. 4.25 to 4 to 3 to 2.5 and now to 1.4... So they admitted me into the damned hospital again to "monitor" me until at least today, preferably until Thursday.

You know what? I'm beginning to get really fucking pissed off with the medical profession, beyond last time. Probably doesn't help that my opinion of the lot of them still stood where it did in November of 2005. But let's see... I'm considered "high risk" due to this. But oddly enough, not high enough risk to be monitored in any way, shape or form. The only thing that has been done since Thursday that has been (or could possibly be) of any use is two shots of steroids to help develop Gunther III's lungs in the event he is born early. That's it. Any medications? No. Have they checked out my cervix? No. All they've done is provide me with crap hospital food, an uncomfortable bed in a room that's too warm, and excuses about why they're delaying everything from getting calls from my OBGYN to answers as to why I don't qualify for a circlage.

I managed to get an "evening" pass. Meaning, I'm at home at the moment, but I have to go back tonight. However, if they think they're doing me a favor by keeping me there, they're horribly mistaken. Due to how things are, I've been more mobile in the past few days than I would be at home. I can work from home with no troubles, which would be really fucking helpful since my health care won't cover much of a short term leave. My neighbours have already been quite helpful in watching Gunther Jr. while Gunther has come out to see me or had to do work late. And everything I could possibly want or need to do is in much closer proximity in my home than it would ever be in a hospital room. So unless they're planning on doing more than what they have been (which is pretty much next to nothing), then I want out.

Not again... At least I'm at 25 weeks at this point... Menerva Jr. was born at 24 weeks 6 days. So I'm at least 1 day past that and with no sign of the exit route opening just yet. If history repeats itself, I've got another 2 weeks before I meet him, since that was how long from diagnosis to delivery it was for me to meet my daughter. And I'm bloody well hoping that he stays in there until at least 32 weeks, minimum. Still, every day longer is a step ahead of what his sister had.

Yeah, so much for having faith, eh? I ain't defeated yet. I'm extremely greatful for the antidepressants I'm on at the moment, let me tell you. But you know what? It's hard right now not to feel like I know how the story is going to progress.