Babies 'R' Us Field Trip Ends in 8-Hour Hospital Visit

Jonathan here, reporting live from the basement while Ashley and Holland snooze upstairs. (I'm the insomniac of the family and with insomnia comes responsibility for attending to the blog, lest ye readers of Bedrest Boutique worry yourselves.)

We spent a few hours at the hospital again today. All's well, though, and we're back home now. It seems Ashley's cervix is still recovering from the removal of the cerclage last Tuesday -- the stitches that have been denying baby Hershey access to the outside world for the past six months. Ashley was supposed to be remaining horizontal like a bottle of fine wine all weekend, hoping not to go into labor prior to things healing up a bit in the nether regions (yes, "nether regions" is an actual a medical term). In a burst of foolhardiness, however, Ashley decided we should take a field trip to Babies 'R' Us this morning. (How many mothers have gone into labor while shopping there, one wonders.)

She and Holland and I had roamed the aisles for a half hour or so, filling a shopping cart (or buggy, if you're from south of the Mason-Dixon) with baby thingamajigs and whozits and drool-catchers and such, when Ashley abruptly excused herself to the bathroom. Holland and I were trying out a fancy stroller (that's a perambulator for those of you reading from across the pond) with a platform upon which the elder sister may either stand as though piloting a Segway or sit facing the parent in order to converse about important matters of the day. Just when I was remarking to Holland that we should go check on Mommy and make sure baby Hershey wasn't in the process of being born right there in Babies 'R' Us (however appropriate that might be) Ashley reappeared looking wan and hunched over and said, "We need to get to the hospital." So she oozed blood all the way there, which was fairly disconcerting. Beyond that, I will refrain from further description.

Fortunately the grandparents were nearby. They picked up Holland and had a fun afternoon riding the carousel and sliding down the Big Red Wagon slide. Meanwhile Ashley got poked and prodded and observed and monitored in the triage room and then placed in a room just two doors down from our old one. I went home and grabbed some DVDs. We watched three episodes of House and two of Boston Legal, having exhausted Lost and Grey's Anatomy. Boredom and malaise crouched at the door. The clock ticked. The baby within fidgeted and hiccuped. A variety of nurses and a friendly resident doctor with a Beatles song as his cell phone ringtone ambled in from time to time. The conclusion at the end of the day was that that the largish puddle of blood that had oozed from the nether regions had originated from the outside of the cervix, where the stitches were removed of late, and that everything and everyone on the inside was well and good and properly percolating.

The moral of the story: Back to bedrest. Be still. Hurry up and wait. And no more trips to Babies 'R' Us for at least the next week.