Want to hear a ridiculous story that, I swear, could only happen to me? Of course you do.
I guess this is what you get when you travel across the country at 28 weeks pregnant. The universe just kind of gangs up on you.
So, picture this. A pregnant momma, in all her glory, hangin' on the beach. Actually, you
can picture it:
Don't you love that the Sunbean is actually taking her afternoon nap?
We had packed up for a few days and left my grandma's place to stay at the beach. That night, I started having sharp pain in my nether region. I figured that if I could get to sleep, I'd be fine. I got to sleep okay, but I was still having pain the next day.
By mid-morning, I was having some cramping, which felt like it could be contractions. Well, crap. I called my doctor, and she told me to go to the ER. Talk about a beach vacation.
I looked up some nearby hospitals, and decided to drive the extra 20 minutes to a larger hospital. I was afraid that if something really was wrong, they'd end up sending me there anyway. I just wanted to avoid a $3,000 ambulance transport. Biiiiiiiiig mistake.
We get to the big hospital (and I mean
big). I've never seen a hospital so big in my life. We located the emergency department, and I had my mom drop me off at the door. The Sunbean was asleep, and I wanted her to sleep as long as possible. I get up to the door at it is locked. Yes, locked. The door to the ER was locked at 10:00am on a Saturday morning.
I waddled myself to the car, and told mom to drop me at the main entrance. I get to the desk (
those doors happened to be open) and I tell the lady I think I'm having contractions at 28 weeks. What does this genius do? She suggests that I get back in my car and drive over to the ER door. I inform her that it was locked, and she tells me I'm mistaken. Oh, lordy. This is shaping up to be a great visit.
I tell her I'd rather just have directions from inside the hospital. She then proceeds to tell me that it is a long and complicated walk. Why she didn't offer to escort me (perhaps via wheelchair? I was having painful contractions, you know.), I'll never know. But I make my way over to the ER. I had to take three separate elevators, but I made it.
I apparently didn't go to the right desk the first time, because they sent me on another trot across the hospital. Finally, at desk #3, I burst into tears. The very sweet receptionist finally gets me a wheelchair and takes me up to labor and delivery herself. 10 points to her for having common sense.
Finally at L&D, still having contractions, it takes them at least 20 minutes to get my information. For real. They finally get me into a room, and I was shocked to find that I was
sharing a room. I know that's not unheard of, but I'm from Hospital City, USA, where they build a new hospital every 2 months. We don't share rooms around here.
So I'm finally in a bed, and they're trying to get the monitors hooked up. At this point, Little Dude is kicking so ferociously that you can actually see my stomach moving from the outside. A nurse is trying to find his heartbeat via doppler, and is somehow having a hard time. She starts to tell me that there is something wrong with the baby because he has no heartbeat. For real, lady? Not only is there fetal movement, but I can actually
see it. Duh.
So she skips the doppler, and for her next trick, attempts to hook up the contraction monitor. Fast forward
one hour. She, and three additional nurses, are still unsuccessful. I'm not even kidding. It's like I was their very first OB patient EVER.
I finally ask them to do one of two things. Either check my cervix to see if I'm dilated or use an ultrasound to check the length of my cervix. It frightens me that I appear to have more knowledge of preterm labor than the four of them do. Combined.
One nurse decides to check my cervix herself. Okay, fine. That's kind of why I came in the first place. She gets the necessary 'supplies', and I happen to look down. She's not wearing
gloves. Oh. em. gee. This cannot be happening to me. I (politely?) ask her to put gloves on before her hand goes inside me. Her response? "Oh yeah!". Oh, yeah.
Let's just fast-forward a few hours. I'd been laying in bed, just waiting on my test results. I finally called for the nurse and asked if I could leave, and they could call me with the results. They were just testing for an infection, so I wasn't too concerned.
Her response? Oh, well, there won't be a doctor around to sign you out for about 4 hours. Um, no. I
will not sit around with you fools for 4 more hours. My mom and I pitched a fit, and 30 minutes later I was on my way.
As I was leaving, an emergency delivery came into the unit - the momma was only 30 weeks. Let's just say I've been thanking my lucky stars that it wasn't me delivering a preemie with those goons.
I've since been to my own (fully competent doctor) and things are just fine. She said having painful contractions during the 3rd trimester is normal, as long as I don't have more than 3 or 4 an hour. Good to know.
Lesson learned. I'll never, ever be traveling while pregnant again.
