February 10th
My storm.
Ainsley
Twelve days and counting. Which is good because I’ve sort of blown up like a balloon and I don’t feel great as I sit in my obstetrician’s waiting room, waiting for my appointment and dreading getting on the scale.
I’ve avoided it at home. Literally picked it up and put it in the back of the closet until after the baby is born. Long after the baby is born probably.
Even though I haven’t felt that great, I’ve gotten so much done.
My mom says I’m nesting. Which is supposed to mean that you are preparing yourself for the birth.
Cooking and cleaning up a storm. My storm has been at work.
I saw a new tile sample, which seemed to trigger something in my brain, and by the end of the day, I had chosen tiles, countertops, and fixtures for each bathroom in the house.
We’ve also made a ton of progress on the new hotel.
You’d think you would design around the space.
And most of the time, we have to. But this project, we’re planning the space around the design.
And it’s really going to turn out amazing.
Damon has a full load of classes this semester since he doesn’t have football practice until later this spring. And his schedule turned out so good. All his classes are midweek, meaning he gets to come to KC right after his Friday morning workout and doesn’t have to leave until Sunday evening.
And it’s been so fun, having that time together.
The nurse calls my name, so I follow her into an examination room.
“All right, hop on the scale for me,” she says.
I want to ask if I have to, but decide to just jump on the scale. I’m shocked by the number I see. No wonder I’m so puffy. I’ve gained—wait, let me do the math—sixty-two pounds. This can’t be normal.
But the nurse doesn’t even blink an eye. I’m sure she’s trained not to. She just writes the number on a chart, then proceeds to take my blood pressure.
“Uh,” she says, “I’m going to have to redo that.” She does, then sets her stethoscope down, and says, “I’ll be right back.”
Which is kind of weird, until she comes back in with the doctor in tow.
“Ainsley,” he says. “You’ve gained a fair bit of weight. Your blood pressure, which has been slightly elevated the last few weeks, is higher than it should be.” Then he grabs the hem of my dress and says, “May I take a look at your legs?”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” I reply, pulling my skirt up so he can see them.
He presses his finger into my skin and when he pulls it away, the dent stays. “Your weight gain is due to fluid buildup. Have you had any headaches, vision changes, or abdominal pain?”
“Not at all. I’m just uncomfortable.”
“I think it’s time for you to have this baby.”
“Wait. Why?”
“Your blood pressure combined with the swelling you’re having could mean preeclampsia.
I’d like you to go straight to the hospital and get checked into labor and delivery.
I want them to monitor your blood pressure, check your urine, and do some blood work.
Have you been having any contractions?” he asks.
“I haven’t.”
“I’d like to induce labor.”
“Will my baby be okay?” I say in a panic.
“Of course. You’re considered full term. No one knows exactly when a baby will be born. Due dates are always just an estimate. Your body is ready,” he says.
“Okay,” I say.
“I’ll call the hospital now, so that they will be expecting you.”
“I don’t have my bag with me,” I tell him.
“Do you have someone who could bring it to you?” he asks.
“Yeah, probably.”
He gives me a few more instructions, none of which I remember, then go out to my car. The second I get inside, I start bawling.
I consider doing an internet search about all this, but am afraid to know.
I take a deep breath, start the car, and drive to the hospital. Which isn’t far. It’s literally across the street from the doctor’s office.
Once I park, I call Damon.
But he doesn’t answer, so I leave him a message.
“Uh, hey, it’s me. I had my doctor’s appointment today.
My blood pressure is elevated, I’ve gained more weight, and am quite swollen.
Anyway, the doctor says it’s time for me to have the baby, so I’m headed into the hospital.
I’m not in labor, like I’m not having any contractions or anything.
It sounds like they will induce labor. Although, I’m not really sure how that works.
So, maybe try to come soon? Or wait, maybe.
I don’t really know. Just call me when you get this.
Hopefully, I know more by then. Okay, bye. ”
As soon as I hang up, I call my mom.
“Hey, honey. What’s up?” she says.
“I just had my doctor’s appointment, and he’s sending me to the hospital.”
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
“You know I’ve been swollen. Today my blood pressure was elevated.
The doctor wants to induce labor. Anyway, I called Damon, left a message, but I haven’t talked to anyone else.
Maybe you could do a group text and keep everyone up to date as things progress.
Oh, I also don’t have my hospital bag with me.
Do you think, at some point, maybe you could bring it? ”
“Of course I can,” she says. “Just text me your room number once it’s assigned.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“Are you doing okay? Nervous.”
“Very. He said my blood pressure combined with the swelling I’m having could mean preeclampsia. I don’t know what that is exactly. And I’m afraid to look online.”
“You have a couple of the symptoms already—the high blood pressure and swelling, or edema. Edema is the medical term for excess fluid in your body. I’m sure they’ll check for protein in your urine.
Do blood tests to check platelets and liver function.
And I’m sure he already asked if you’ve had any headaches or issues with your vision. ”
“He did. And I haven’t.”
“That’s good,” she says. “And it’s good he wants to induce you.”
“How do they do that exactly?”
“Just some medication,” she says.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“You’re welcome. And I’m so excited that we get to meet our sweet baby Summer soon.”
“Will everything be okay?” I ask, tears suddenly rolling down my face. “Will she be okay?”
“Being at the hospital means it will.”
“Mom, just tell me the truth. Don’t make me look it up on the internet and see really bad stuff.”
“Honey, calm down. There are risks with preeclampsia. If that’s what you have.
I’m going to get your bag and come join you at the hospital.
Although labor and delivery weren’t my specialty, I do know my way around there.
And once your tests come back, we’ll know what’s going on, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know. ”
Not freaking out.
Damon
I just finished working out and am opening my locker when I hear my phone vibrating. I grab it quickly and see Jennifer is calling.
“Hey, Jen,” I say.
“Tell me you haven’t left yet.”
“Left for where?” I ask her.
“Oh good,” she says, ignoring my question. “The plane is on its way. Should land there in thirty minutes. I tried to call earlier. We certainly don’t want you driving down here like a maniac.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Have you not spoken to Ainsley?”
“No, I’ve been working out. Oh my gosh! Is she in labor?”
“Not exactly.”
“Is something wrong?” I say in a panic. “With her? The baby?”
“Did she not leave you a message?” Jennifer says.
“I don’t know. Just tell me!”
“She went to the doctor today. Her blood pressure is high and she’s quite swollen. They immediately sent her over to the hospital. You know her mom is a nurse. She said they are testing her for preeclampsia. And thinks it’s likely that she has it.”
“Is it bad?”
“It’s a situation that can be dangerous for the mother. And if it’s dangerous for the mother, it can be dangerous for the baby. But she’s at the hospital, so they will be able to keep things under control.”
“I need to know the best and worst case scenarios—now, please,” I say sternly.
“Oh, um, well, when our blood pressure gets too high, it can cause seizures or even a stroke. So best case is a safe delivery for mom and baby, and worst case is—I can’t even say it, Damon. I won’t say it.”
And she doesn’t have to.
I know.
They could die.
I drop down on the bench behind me, cover my eyes, and take a deep breath. Then I say, “Thank you for sending the plane.”
“Your dad will be waiting for you to land and will take you to the hospital.”
“I could just order a rideshare.”
“Your father insisted,” she says.
“Okay, thanks.”
I hang up, listen to Ainsley’s message. The strain in her voice. I can tell she’s scared, but trying not to freak me out.
I call her immediately.
But she doesn’t answer.
Tears fill my eyes, and I hang my head down and say a prayer.
“Whatcha doing?” Chase says, slapping my shoulder. When I look up at him, he goes, “What’s wrong?”
“Ainsley is at the hospital. She might have something with a long name that has the word clamp in it, and basically, she could have a stroke. And if she does, she could die. The baby could die.”
“Did you just hear the bad parts?” he asks me.
I let out a little chuckle. “That is the worst case scenario,” I admit.
Chase sits down next to me and puts his arm around my shoulders.
“Jennifer sent the plane. It will be here in about twenty-five minutes. I need to get to the airport. Will you drop me off?”
“More like I’m going with you.” He opens his locker. “Oh, Dani’s tried to call me, like, three times. Let me call her back real quick.”
He does so while I stare in my locker, trying to figure out what to do. I need a shower badly, but …
“Damon,” Chase says.
It snaps me out of my daze. “Yeah?”
“Dani is on her way here. She’s going to pick us up, and we’re both coming with you. I told her we needed to shower, but she’s got clothes packed for us and we can shower on the plane. We’re just supposed to grab our shit and get outside.”
“I can do that,” I say, taking my backpack out of my locker and following him out the door.
On the way to the airport, Chase says, “I texted our coaches to let them know what’s going on and said I’d keep them updated.”
“Thanks,” I say.