After the harrowing rollercoaster Wednesday morning, we thought we'd step off the platform and head to Berrysburg for a little Thanksgiving festivities. After two hours of traffic and a quick detour of sorts, we arrived just in time for dinner and with great news for my in-laws.
Thursday morning started off with the boys going hunting for small game, and Sally and I preparing the feast. It went off without a hitch, and we even took a little time out to watch the Macy's Day Parade.
The guys returned windblown and satisfied, and Brent's Ma and Marlin arrived 45 minutes early. (We expected them at 12:30 p.m.) I called my family at 3 to see how the Randisi Thanksgiving was without their favorite daughter. (Turns out, they were fine. Ha!)
I quickly ran to the bathroom ... and my holiday happiness came to a screeching hault. Blood. Red blood. A lot of it. The kind that the docs tell you is fatal. I nearly lost conciousness. Everything was fine yesterday. Everything. The baby's heart was beating 130 beats per minute, the ultrasound looked normal. What is going on?!
I called for Brent as evenly as I could, but he sprinted up the stairs, his eyes wild with worry. He took one look at my face, packed everything up including the dog. We said quick good-byes and hurried out the door destined for York.
Please don't let this be the same fate as Morgan. Please.
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