We got the news yesterday afternoon- though I was suspect (and damn near positive by Sunday evening). Three (or maybe it qualifies as two since it's hypenated?) words- Pre-term Labor. UGH.
In all of my over-doing for Woog's Birthday, crazy schedule and more, I've induced early contractions- a really bad thing at just 27.1 weeks. Woog wanted to come early too (25 weeks), and a hospital stay cured that.
So now, a bed or couch looms in the very near future....and...for the next 11 weeks. :(
Of course SHE is the most important thing- her health and safety. I can't imagine having her and not being able to bring her home. That won't do. Besides, she's just 2 lbs right now. My Chihuahua would look like a Great Dane next to her. At that size she could be a part of her own mobile. 2 lbs, that's like what my current underwear weigh. Grow little one...
So, I'll pacify myself reading and playing pretend with Woog. (He really is a crack-up). {He's learned that a nose says "Honk," a bellybutton says "Dingdong," and when one (or he) claps, they say "YEAAAAAAH." He headbutts is father and laughs, he shakes his head side-to-side when we say "Craaaaazy Baby." Loves to sneak peeks inside the toilet- facinating, eh?}
Steroid injections and a uterine home-monitoring device will help to keep ensure status quo- that is: No-Baby-Til-May.
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