Most of the women on the floor were there for inductions, for monitoring after amniocentesis, or for treatment of preeclampsia. Once my labor stopped, I was transferred to the antepartum ward, a section of the maternity ward where mothers usually spend only a few days. Most women who are prescribed bed rest are sent home, but since my water had broken, I had to remain in the hospital until my son was born. Once the magnesium sulfate was done, they gave me a course of muscle relaxants to stop the contractions and placed me on modified bed rest until I delivered. I spent about eighteen hours half-conscious, feeling like my head and veins were on fire from the magnesium sulfate treatment given to slow the contractions and encourage the baby’s brain and lungs to develop. In my case, the obstetricians decided to try to stop my contractions since I could barely feel them and the amniotic leak was relatively slow. Perhaps the scariest thing wasn’t the speed of events but the worried and weighty looks exchanged by the physicians and nurses as they examined test results and monitored strips without saying a word. Rather than the straightforward checking of vitals and intermittent monitoring as labor gradually progresses that we had practiced for in birthing class only the week before, this premature labor was accompanied by frenetic activity by nurses and doctors who hooked up an IV, drew blood, attached monitors, and ordered tests and medications. I was not entirely sure what to expect when my husband drove me to the emergency room on the night of July 4, leaking amniotic fluid 10 weeks early. Last summer I had a very different experience of childbirth than most women.
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