Yesterday was considerably uneventful for the majority of the day. In some ways it was similar to the way I spent Monday. The family came to visit before lunch; I had a nap after lunch; I passed the time by reading, praying, reading some more, and working on a digital scrapbook.
The "main event," in my estimation, was that I was to get the IV removed, since the doctor had told me he would put me on oral medicine since my contractions hadn't really reappeared. Apparently the time line I had in my head (from what I had understood originally) did not match up with the Italian time line...which is not surprising! I did end up asking about the oral meds, because the morning came and went and I was still on the IV.
Around lunch time they finally did remove the IV--but I didn't take any oral medication until 7pm. I didn't understand this, but since my nap happened in the middle of that time period, and since they did hook me up to monitors a couple of times during this, I didn't really pursue asking. (I'm probably not as aggressive or curious of a patient as I should be?!) I don't know if they wanted to wait a certain time between treatments or what--I got my pill around 5:30 but was told to wait and take it around 7:00.
Meanwhile, contractions picked up. Not terribly, but enough to be noticeable. Ted returned by himself in the evening so we could have some time with just the two of us, and he was here during another monitoring session, during which time I was hooked up to a more sensitive monitor. I had noticed that during my earlier monitoring sessions, I was feeling some contractions that weren't registering on the graph, and I mentioned that to the commander who is overseeing my case who called to check on me in the evening. Obviously calls were made, because then this "new" machine was brought in and I was hooked up. Thankfully we noted that it was indeed picking up everything I was feeling, which made me feel better--at least the staff were going to get a more clear picture of what was going on.
Ted had to leave before I was finished, so he missed the end of my day--being told that the oral meds (which had been in my system 2.5 hours by this point) were not going to work and I needed to go back on the IV. Sadly, they had completely removed my original pick line--I should have asked them to keep it in place just in case!! I even wondered about it at the time, but...again...didn't speak up. Sigh. So the nurse, who is incredibly kind and sweet, put a new line in, but this one was in the crook of my right elbow. Ouch. It isn't a great place for an IV in my opinion!
The doctor checked my cervix and found that nothing had changed--I was still only dilated to 3cm and Baby's head was not engaged, so that was encouraging. But when everyone left the room, I confess I shed some tears of self-pity. I only foresaw being here for days and days, with an uncomfortable IV line in my dominant arm. To top it off, some of the varicose veins in my right leg (right behind my knee) began paining me greatly. I didn't know how I was going to get any sleep.
I spent some time reading some precious promises in Scripture, encouraging passages that reminded me that my hope is in the Lord and not in medicine! Here are a few...
2 Corinthians 4:16-18
I made a list of things to be thankful for and went to bed feeling that this too shall pass.
1. In the middle of summer in Naples, I have an air-conditioned room!
2. I am in a mosquito-free environment!
3. I can look forward to breakfast (and lunch and dinner) in bed! For who knows how long!
4. And I don't have to cook it OR clean up afterward!
5. I have an amazing husband in Ted who is pulling some amazing Daddy duty and holding our sweet family together!
6. I have amazing kids who are rising to the occasion and helping each other and their dad do what has to be done. They are growing through all this, too!
7. I have an amazing family in Christ, both here and abroad, who are showering me with prayers and encouragement.
8. I have an amazing God who will provide everything we will need and get us through this journey.