My sweet girl who kept me company in the hospital bed.
Monday night, as my mother “skyped” with the Little Lady, Mr. Boy decided to turn Mommy into a trampoline.
Before I realized what was happening, Mr. Boy was on top of the couch and jumping, with great gusto and force, onto my stomach.
Not a fun moment for a pregnant Mama.
For the rest of the night and Tuesday morning, I had cramping and Barney Kneeknuckles didn’t move very much.
Kind of scary a scary combination for a pregnant Mama.
With diapers, Cheerios, and Ipad in hand, the kidlets and I headed to my OB yesterday — just in case.
Ugh.
I’m sure my Mamas out there understand why I say, “Ugh.” Having a 4 year old and a 1 (nearly 2) year old in an ultrasound oom with you . . . then in the exam room with you . . . while you’re strapped down with fetal heart rate and contraction monitors . . . just isn’t FUN.
But, it’s better than having to cart them over to the hospital. And better than trying to keep them quiet while you check in to Labor and Delivery. And better than trying to keep them from pushing every button on your hospital bed once you’re in your room.
And DEFINITELY better than having to explain to the Desk Nurse, over and over and over, that you DON’T need anything . . . you just had an inquisitive child push the big red “CALL NURSE” button AGAIN.
Four hours later (and after Daddy came to rescue me the kidlets), my sweet nurse — who came by often to watch “Cupcake Wars” with me — told me I could head home.
Barney Kneeknuckles was fine. The heart rate was fine. My contractions weren’t too frequent. And the placenta was intact.
Yup — all was good.
And . . . yup . . . I did briefly mention at the beginning of this post that I had an ultrasound.
So, I *might* have received an official proclamation as to Barney Kneeknuckles’ gender.
Just sayin’.
