So since Wednesday was the day that I was supposed to find out if I would be released for home bed rest or not, Brian came to the hospital and worked from here while we waited to get word. The doctor came in early in the day to let us know that she wanted to consult with the perinatologist before making a decision. My 24 hour urine test did show that I was spilling protein but at fairly low levels, so I was diagnosed with mild pre-eclampsia. However, with my blood pressure readings coming in all over the place and some of them coming in really rather high, she wasn't sure how comfortable she was sending me home. So, she said she would be back later in the day after she talked to the other doc.
This is the point at which the whole situation hit me. I realized that I was definitely on bedrest (i.e. little freedom, no working, etc.) and that I was possibly going to be in the hospital over the holidays. I cried. A lot. I tried to stop and cried some more. My nurse that day tried to help by saying that it could be worse which didn't help at all. Yes, I know it could be much worse. I've had friends and family who have endured much more and I know that I'm blessed to only have this small burden. However, that doesn't mean that I don't need a time to be sad about my situation and to reconcile myself to my new reality. It was tough on Brian to see me break down and to be strong for me, but he did. By the afternoon, I'd "put my big girl panties on" and was in a much better place.
Now, we waited...and waited...my doc must have been slammed that day because she kept intending to come by and never did. It got late enough that Brian and I figured that she must not be planning to release me and we all but knew she was keeping me in the hospital for the bed rest. Brian went home alone, again, and seemed much sadder this time. I think this was the hardest night for him to leave me, particularly after hoping to take me home. So, we figured we would hear the official word from the doc the next day.
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