shimmeringjemmy<\/a> 4 oz of warm red wine and a hot bath to slow her uterus down. This was to give it time to rest and recuperate.<\/p>\nThis should basically make things slow down for about 6-8 hrs. For H it was about 45 minutes. She didn’t sleep well at all last night. This morning she was at about 5-7 minutes again. I went into the office. I called midwife:K. Midwife listened to the description and called us in to the office at noon. By the time the call was over H was down to 4-5 minutes.<\/p>\n
My coworker packed me up and told me to go home. The team has been AMAZINGLY supportive. <\/p>\n
At noon we met at the Birth Centre. H was down to 1-2 min. Unfortunately under inspection… she’s not dilating. By this point they are full on contractions except they aren’t doing anything to her cervix.<\/p>\n
She sends us to get “Evening Primrose Oil” which is in fact a gel-cap not an oil. This is supposed to soften the cervix.<\/p>\n
So.. H is currently on “Evening Primrose Oil” and being monitored.<\/p>\n
In other news, there was in fact no death involved with the obtaining of the “Evening Primrose Oil”<\/p>\n
I went into the nearby coop. I had to leave H in the car. She was basically moaning in extreme pain every 1-2 minutes. <\/p>\n
With much difficulty (and assistance) I found the EPO gel-caps. I tried to be patient on line. The girl behind the register looked at me. She noticed I was looking “harried” and asked, “And how is your day going?”<\/p>\n
ALLOW ME TO DIGRESS.<\/p>\n
I would like to make a law against, “How are you”, “How is your day”, “Have a nice day”. 90 % of the people who use these lines don’t care. And of the remaining 10%; 80% really shouldn’t be brought into the loop, because they will try to help and be utterly unqualified to do so.<\/p>\n
End digression<\/p>\n
I make the mistake of saying, “I’ve had better days.” She slows down ringing me up. Which is amazing considering the fact that I had TWO (count them, 1… 2) items. She looks as if she won’t speed up unless I satiate her voyeuristic curiosity. “My wife’s contractions are one-two minutes apart and she’s not dialating” I blurt out.<\/p>\n
BIGGER MISTAKE<\/p>\n
My (I’m guessing) 19 year old register girl launches into a game of “AMATEUR MIDWIFE”. And begins telling me how she has FOO number of friends who are going thru the exact same thing. Then she launches into the abject dangers of C-Sections. By this point she is talking with my debit card in one hand like it’s a cigarettic extension of her hand. The receipt sitting in the machine like a neglected weed. I am trying to pluck the card out of her hand as she gestures as if were a fly I was trying to catch with chop sticks. She realizes I want my card back and hands it to me.<\/p>\n
I snatch up the items as she slowly starts to fumble for a bag. I say, “We good?”
\n“Yes, but you have to remember that a midwife”… I am ignoring her now and point at the receipt. She has to grab at it 3 times before she gets a handle on it to gingerly tear it off slowly. All the while continuing on her medical treatise.<\/p>\n
By this point I am backing out of the store.. she is still droning on about the eeeevuls of modern medicine and I am drastically forcing a smile while the inside of my brain is screaming, “JUST STFU SHE’S IN PAIN IN THE CAR.”<\/p>\n
I exit out the door, she is still talking. I round the corner door and here, “Well.. good luck.”<\/p>\n
All I have to say is, “The checkout girl lives…. this time.”<\/p>\n
So I’m posting this because we had a nice<\/i> trip thru BC:3 earlier. We’re at BC:4… but it’s a guarded BC:4<\/p>\n
not fun.<\/p>\n