Chapter 173: Hospital Life
A threatened miscarriage means being in a critical condition where a miscarriage might happen—it's not the same as having already miscarried. When I was first diagnosed with a threatened miscarriage, I misunderstood and nearly fell into despair.
The children are still alive.
Even so, there’s no doubt that the situation is dangerous, and I was immediately hospitalized on an emergency basis.
The cervix is the canal connecting the uterus to the vagina. If you can instantly picture a cross-section of the uterus when you hear that, you're probably a bit pervy.
When you're pregnant, the cervix acts like a hard, tight seal to keep the baby from coming out of the uterus.
Normally, in early pregnancy, the cervix is about 35–40 mm long. As pregnancy progresses, it naturally shortens, reaching about 25–32 mm just before birth.
But in my case, it was only 23 mm in the second trimester.
In this state, just going about my daily life poses a risk of the baby coming out of my womb—even though they’re still not developed enough to survive outside.
That’s why the doctor told me to stay on absolute bed rest, and I was confined to bed, lying down the entire time.
They hooked me up to an IV to prevent uterine contractions. Apparently, I’ll be on it 24/7.
Lying down, my heart started racing, and I felt flushed with heat.
I began to feel unwell, so I used a healing spell. It cleared my head, but at the same time, my abdomen contracted sharply, and I had to press the nurse call button.
It seems those symptoms were side effects of the medication, and the healing spell had canceled out the effects of the drug entirely.
While receiving a stronger IV and drifting in and out of consciousness, I finally felt my abdominal pain ease, and I cried from sheer relief.
"I'm sorry... Alicia, Alisa..."
All I could do was apologize—apologize for putting my children in danger with my careless actions, my trembling hands gently resting on my belly despite the IV’s side effects.
In that hazy time between waking and sleep, I spent every second praying that time would simply pass—quietly, uneventfully.
The two of them squirm around inside my belly.
When they move too much, I get scared they’ll just slip out. They're not ready to survive outside yet.
Please stay still, just for now. Please, I’m begging you.
Monday, August 28 — 20 weeks, 5 days
The days of complete bed rest continue.
I’ve gotten used to the IV side effects. Not that I feel any better, but the constant discomfort has just become part of my normal.
During visiting hours, Mom, Yuna, and Hisui take turns so that someone’s always here with me.
Lying in bed all day might sound easy and relaxing, but not being allowed to sit up, not even once in 24 hours, is pure misery.
My whole body aches like it’s creaking apart, and eating meals while lying down is uncomfortable and awkward.
But the hardest part, by far, is using the toilet.
For peeing, they’ve inserted a catheter, and once I got used to the idea of someone seeing me like that, it wasn’t too bad. But going number two… that’s a whole different story.
They slide a portable bedpan under my butt while I’m in bed, and I have to go like that—with the nurse taking care of everything from setup to cleanup. I just couldn’t get over how humiliating it felt.
But I couldn’t hold it in either. They told me that doing so would put pressure on my abdomen and make it more likely to contract.
The first time, I was so embarrassed and ashamed I teared up. The lingering smell afterward made me want to disappear. The nurse, handling everything with calm professionalism, was a godsend.
Dad and Souta come to visit too, but I’ve asked them to keep their visits short. I feel bad, but I just can’t stop worrying about the catheter and the smell.
Thursday, August 31 — 21 weeks, 1 day
Apparently, today marks the end of summer break. It doesn’t mean much to me anymore, but Yuna, Hisui, and Souta are heading back home today.
So they all came to visit together. From now on, one of them will come to see me every weekend—even though the train ride takes half a day one way.
I do feel like telling them not to overdo it, but honestly, I’m grateful. Being stuck in a private hospital room with no one to talk to but my family can get really lonely.
Wednesday, September 6 — 22 weeks, 0 days
Today I’ve reached 22 weeks.
From today, my condition is no longer called a threatened miscarriage, but a threatened premature birth.
That means that, if the babies are born now, there's a chance—however small—they might survive.
I’m genuinely happy to have made it to this point.
That said, I can’t let my guard down.
The earlier they’re born, the higher the risk of them developing disabilities. I have to keep them inside me as long as I possibly can—every single day counts.
Another concern is that the babies are only around 400 grams each, which is on the small side compared to average.
Fortunately, the uterine contractions have settled down, and the IV has been switched back to a weaker drip.
Above all, I’m grateful that I’m finally allowed to sit up for meals and using the bathroom.
During the day, I mostly laze around watching anime or playing games on my phone. I study occasionally, but since I can’t sit up properly, it’s mostly just looking at textbooks.
What bothers me most is a lingering sluggishness that won’t go away, making it hard to concentrate.
Normally, I’d be moved to a four-person room by now, but since one was available, I’ve been allowed to stay in the private room. I think I’d stand out too much otherwise, and I didn’t want to carry that extra stress.
Saturday, September 9 — 22 weeks, 3 days
Today, Yuna came to visit.
School has started again, and apparently, my classmates miss me since I’m on leave.
Wednesday, September 20 — 24 weeks, 0 days
About hospital life.
I’m leading a strictly unhealthy, yet regimented lifestyle.
7:30
Ultrasound and blood pressure check.
8:00
Breakfast: bread, side dishes, and yogurt.
9:00
Temperature check, then a warm towel bath.
My hair feels rough and smells unpleasant.
About every 30 minutes, I get the urge to use purification magic, but since I don’t know if magic might harm the babies, I resist.
I wonder if I’ll be able to take a shower tomorrow.
Showers feel refreshing, but standing makes my belly contract, which worries me. Also, the IV line gets in the way and makes me uneasy.
...I wish I could take a long, relaxing bath.
10:00
Non-Stress Test.
It’s a daily examination to monitor the fetuses’ heartbeats and movements, as well as my uterine contractions.
Despite its name, it’s actually pretty stressful.
They place two circular devices on my belly to measure each baby’s heartbeat, plus a monitor for contractions, and I have to stay still for about 20 minutes.
If the babies move around too much, their heartbeats overlap, or if they shift during the test, the devices need adjusting. Sometimes one of them is sleeping inside, and the machine has to “wake” them up. The twins’ movements are so unpredictable it’s frustrating.
The IV drip’s strength is adjusted depending on how much my belly is contracting, so I’m constantly uneasy.
12:00
Lunch.
Meals are one of the few pleasures here. The menu changes daily, which I’m glad for.
14:00
Visiting hours begin. Usually, Mom comes by with laundry and snacks.
15:00
Doctor’s examination. Apparently, I’m a bit anemic, so from now on I have to take syrup medicine after meals.
18:00
Dinner.
I can choose between Japanese and Western cuisine. I usually go with Western.
The syrup was sweet at first, but it leaves an aftertaste of iron.
20:00
Visiting hours end. Lately, Mom tends to leave early.
Even being with parents all day, there’s not much to talk about, you know. Today, she left after about two hours.
Once again, ultrasound and blood pressure check.
21:00
Lights out. Good night.
I hope my belly won’t contract in the middle of the night...
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