I remember being a fairly busy kid. They had us in dance and scouts and little league and summer reading programs and all the usual stuff. I also remember finding plenty of things to do while not at these things. But somehow, I don't quite remember moving quite as much as Harry does, and I'm sorry to report as this baby seems to. Apparently there is a little note in my chart about the challenge of locating the child's heart beat with the monitors (see previous post). I feel like Elaine in that Seinfeld.
Yesterday I tried to earn some good karma: a nursing student was on the floor and I let her practice on me. The girl was nervous as all get out, but it was worthwhile for a reason I didn't expect. Her professor, a midwife with a PhD in nursing, accompanied here. They did a quick exam, took my vitals, placed the fetal monitors and discussed my suspected almost presenting not quite here condition, preeclampsia. In her experience (+700 births), when the mother starts to experience symptoms and delivers early (between 34-37 weeks), the child thrives and suffers little effect of the early birth. Her theory is that the child gets some sort of biological cue to hurry up with the vital development of breathing, sucking and swallowing.
I turned on my super sleuthing librarian skills and embarrassingly enough, I haven't been able to dig up anything on this over at medlineplus.gov besides the following general statement:
"In women with mild preeclampsia near term, newborn outcomes are generally good and comparable to those of women without preeclampsia."
Which means, I'm sitting here on my hinder more for my health than the child's. I suppose it's good to take some time to do something for yourself once in a while. Here's to hoping the labs are decisive tomorrow and I can apply my new zen-like nurturing patient mothering state to a child before this all wears off.