So where was I? Oh yes. 29 weeks pregnant, huge belly, running around Vegas.
All went well in Vegas, and thankfully the Baby that went to Vegas didn’t stay in Vegas. The day we left Vegas we took a flight to Miami to do some serious Baby Shopping. Where I live there aren’t many baby stores (thank you global economy and 3rd world countries), Everything was going according to plan. The shopping would be done in two days and we would go back home no problem. That is until I went to the toilet after the 6 Hour plane ride and realized there was something wrong with the baby. And before you start wondering what happened I’ll say it once for the sake of the story. There was some considerable bleeding. Considerable enough to call my travel insurance so that they’d tell me where to go. Only they didn’t tell me where to go. The telephone conversation went more like this: I’m sorry how many weeks pregnant are you? 29 weeks one day? Oh ok (Long silence). Yes sorry, so maybe you didn’t read the (ridiculous) small print in the contract, but we only cover pregnancy emergencies until the 28th week, so you are 2 days past our policy. Yes. So, goodbye. Click. Me? Panic!
I immediately called my doctor and she told me I had to go to the hospital no matter what, there was no other way around it. Since I hadn’t experienced any problems until that day she told me I had to have it checked out. So we searched online (I cried more than googled, Phillip took over and looked for a clinic with a level 3 NICU) and off to the clinic we went. No insurance, no nothing. We arrived to this perfectly beautiful bay side building (keep in mind I’m a 3rd World Mommy and being sick away from home for me almost always entails some horrid experience), so we were pleasantly surprised to be entering such a nice place. The pleasant surprise came to an end when we realized that the better the hospital, the bigger the bill. As soon as we entered we were taken immediately to Labor and Delivery. Everyone was so nice, they gave us room with a view of the ocean, it would have been perfect except for the fact that we would be paying for everything and had no idea how much the amenities would cost us. And of course there was nothing we could do. We had to make sure Peter was alright. The head nurse (sweetest person ever) came in and strapped the heart monitor around me and told me to hold still. I did. She came back 30 minutes later with a Peter update: I was having contractions, Peter was Ok but he was too small to make it on his own and if he was to be born he would require a long stay in the NICU.
Peter was Ok. That was the most important thing. We were told to wait for the Doctor. We waited for an hour for him to come by. We spent the whole hour making bets on what Peter’s adventure would cost us. Our own million dollar baby. We were scared of what would happen, but there was NOTHING we could do. We couldn’t leave, Peter’s well being was our priority. The Dr. finally came in, he checked us, and ordered all types of exams (Get them done, add to the bill). After a whole day of exams and several shots (Including steroids for his lungs) we were told Peter was not going to be born just yet. They had caught him on time (Wohooo Peter!!). The Dr. was clear about the fact that I had to stay in Miami for at least 2 days in bed, travel home and stay in bed until it was time for Peter to be born. So after two days we got a on a plane and came home.
The next day we went to the Doctor, she confirmed everything that we were told in Miami, and so the Long Bed Rest Adventure Began. Peter would prove to be a stubborn baby from the start.
3rd World Mommy 
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