One year ago today...

I went on bed rest at home when I was 5 months pregnant. That was Dec 1st 2007. Once I went on bed rest I got this cool little contraption to use called a "home monitor" to see how many contractions I was having. When you have 3 little babies growing inside of you the doctors like to know exactly when the babies are going to make their grand entrance into the world so they keep a very close eye on every little thing. I would have to take this belt with a monitor on it and strap it around my ginormous (that's a word when you're pregnant with triplets) stomach and stay still for one very long hour, twice a day. After I was done monitoring I would have to hook up the monitor to a machine and send the information to a nurse. She would then call me back and tell me how many contractions I had and ask me the same gazillion questions I was asked when she called the last time I monitored. "How many contractions did you feel? Did you feel the babies move? What was your blood pressure? Are you staying still? Make sure you drink water!" That last one killed me...they would tell you to guzzle water all day long and then when you had to get up to pee 50 million times during the day they would yell at you for being off the couch too much! Ugh...I learned early to tell the nurses ONLY what they needed to know. These nurses that called me back would panic at the smallest things.

Which brings me to a year ago today. I was home (duh) and bored (duh again) when Pete came home from work. He went upstairs to do something and I dropped my chap stick and it rolled under the couch. I look at the stairs, debate calling Pete, decide it's stupid to make him come down and fish for my chap stick under the couch. Now logically...I should have left the chap stick right? I was pregnant...and logic was not part of my vocabulary. So I sit up on the couch and bend over to feel for the chap stick when I feel something happen inside of me. I don't know exactly what it was but I knew it was a different feeling. Pete comes downstairs 2 minutes later. Couldn't I have waited? I tell him what happened...he calls me an idiot and says to just call him when I need something. For the next 2 hours I think I'm feeling contractions every 15 minutes. So I call the nurse and she tells me to monitor for the next hour and send her the strip right away. I did just as I was told. She called me back and this is how the conversation goes:

Nurse: "Michelle! How many contractions did you feel?!?!"

Me: "I think I felt 4...but they weren't very strong so I could be wrong."

Nurse: "WELL YOU HAD 10! GET TO THE HOSPITAL NOW!!!"

Me: "Are you sure I had that many? It didn't feel like that many..."

Nurse: "WHY ARE YOU STILL ON THE PHONE!?!? IS YOUR HUSBAND THERE? GO!!!!!"
Now I'm thinking to myself "if I wasn't in labor before talking to you...I am now!" These nurses are always over reacting. But I oblige and tell Pete that we need to go to the hospital. I don't even pack a bag because in my head...I'm coming right back home. Hahaha....

It took over an hour to make a 20 minute trip because it was snowing. I get to the hospital and the nurses are looking at me like I'm crazy when one of them blurts out "what took you so long? We've been waiting for you!" Apparently - crazy, over reactive, home-monitor nurse called the hospital and said we'd be "right there". Not my fault there's a snowstorm. They hook me up to a monitor and I didn't even have 1 contraction for the next hour. I'm thinking 'yeah...I'll be home - this was waste of time'. But then I started contracting every 5 minutes for the very next hour. Out the window were any dreams of remaining on bed rest at home. The hospital became my new home until the babies arrived.....