My last day of school was Friday. I've spent the past seven weeks very conflicted about today – the battle of exhaustion versus my desire to teach. I wasn't surprised to discover that I woke up this morning feeling a little lost soul-ish.
I spent the morning as a flitterbug -- popping from one task to the next without accomplishing much of anything. Any progress I might have made was hindered by Biscotti. She's been a wee bit overprotective as of late; she will not let the Twin Belly out of her sight. Today she added a new trick: doing her dangdest to herd me back to bed.
I should've listened.
This afternoon we had our first NONstress test. They hooked up monitors to capture the babies' heartbeats and a third monitor to my uterus. In typical Bean Sprout fashion, he showed off for the doctors by doing all sorts of barrel rolls and squirm-worm maneuvers. And in typical Twin Belly fashion, my uterus reacted to his movements by having what I thought were Braxton Hicks contractions.
They weren't. Apparently they're the real deal. And regular.
The doctor took one look at my printout and announced: Bed Rest.
St. Matt and I exchanged a look that said everything: But wait! We're not ready yet. It's my first day off work. You said I'd have some time to run errands and take it easy. I was going to make cookies tonight. We were going to walk the dogs. I have plans tomorrow. We have plans this weekend. We're NOT Ready.
Out loud we said, "Okay, what do we need to know?" because none of that matters. And we'll do just about anything to make sure these two little boys stay put and stay safe for as many weeks as possible.
So now I sit. And wait. Thursday AM's our next NST and I'm hoping for better results.
In the meantime, Biscotti, bodyguard puggle extraordinaire, is thrilled that I'm taking her advice and lying down. If a puggle could gloat, that's what she'd be doing, from her supervisory post at the foot of my bed.