Parked in the Park

We had a wonderful day out on our anniversary. Dolores Park was packed with people. I love people watching, and there was plenty to keep me occupied. It was sunny and warm and lots of friends came by with dogs and babies and blankets and food. My husband's father and his girlfriend were visiting. They are really funny. They are such New Yorkers. They commented multiple times about how "sunny" San Francisco is, and they didn't ever quite look comfortable on the picnic blanket. Eventually my father-in-law's head started turning the color of a tomato, at which point they politely declined staying any longer, and decided to go for a nap at their hotel. They were great though and they said all the right things about how wonderful it and beautiful it is here. They shook their heads in disbelief several times as they pointed out the palm trees. It’s like California is some foreign land to them.

I forced us to stay until early evening, despite friends coming and going. Every time there was a hint of a suggestion to leave, I heard myself say "I'm fine to stay a bit longer." It wasn't until I felt the chill in the air that indicates evening is coming in San Francisco that I wanted to go home. It was a great day that we topped off by ordering sushi (all cooked for me, except for the piece that I spontaneously ate that theoretically belonged to someone else).

During my day at the park, there were 3 "bathroom breaks" where I actually had to walk across the park--not that far, but farther then I have moved for weeks. The next day, yesterday, I woke up sore. My LEGS were sore. It was slightly disturbing. I decided not to worry about it and was reading contentedly when I also noticed that I was having trouble holding my hardcover book above my face. With a feeling of dread I understood it is because my arms suck so bad that they are too weak to hold a book! Oh wait. Wasn't I going to write a post about how great my day was? Am I instead managing to complain about bedrest again? Oh well. It’s my blog and if a bedrest vent is coming, why stop it? I knew I would get bored and frustrated and feel anxiety on bedrest, but I clearly underestimated the bodily effect and how much that affects me. I know this is all temporary, but it is a decidedly foreign version of me than the one I knew and I don’t like it at all. So many of my friends are…not athletic. And I think I have always prided myself on being a little “jockey” where others aren’t (of course, I would pale in a world of jocks, but many of my friends are not jocks so I look good). So…there is this weird trauma of losing that part of me that is humbling and unexpectedly affecting my psyche!!

Okay, alright, no more doom and gloom. I had a good ultrasound after my day of freedom. The "microfunneling" is...pretty much not there, and the cervix is back at about 4 cm. I think the funneling is always there, and some docs/techs say it is and some people say it isn't. I am decidedly a borderline case. Good news is that it has never gotten any worse since it first appeared and tomorrow--tomorrow I am 28 weeks pregnant.

All is well for now. I hate bedrest.