Ok.
I know my blog has been a bit of a downer lately… and we haven’t really been having the best MONTH.
Between me and Ronan, someone has been sick for ages. He finally seems to be on the mend. But I warn you now… this entry will be very graphic, and use words like “vomit” and “diarrhea”. Discontinue reading if you have a problem with that.
I felt fine yesterday. All of the day. I ordered a pizza for dinner, because I hadn’t planned ahead enough for dinner, and I was starving. Ronan and I ate pizza together, I bathed him and put him to bed just after Brock got home. Brock and I sat on the couch and watched our favorite show (Modern Family) and I started to feel a little off.
I told him I thought maybe my pizza was bad, and took some Rolaids. No improvement.
Fast forward to an hour later. We are in the bathroom, and he’s trying to convince me to just puke it up, because I will feel SO much better. I kept telling him, “I feel like I need to vomit and have diarrhea at the exact same moment.” If you know me and my anti-puking ways, you know there is NO chance that I will be able to convince myself to stick a finger down my throat… even at the promise of ‘feeling better’.
I told Brock I was just going to try to go to bed and sleep it off, and he went out into the living room. About 20 minutes later, feeling VERY ill, I walked through the living room, into the kitchen, grabbed the biggest bowl I could find, and went back to bed. I didn’t answer Brock when he asked what I was doing. I was on a mission.
I laid in bed, curled into a little ball around my bowl, and thought in my head over and over, “Just puke and you’ll feel better. Just puke and you’ll feel better. Just puke and you’ll feel better,” but I couldn’t actually convince myself to make any move. I just laid there.
Suddenly, I sat up and there was no stopping. I threw up over and over. I had NO idea there was so much in my stomach. I hate the feeling of throwing up so badly… being doubled over like you’ve been kicked in the stomach, the pulling, tearing feeling as something is ripped out of you against your will. I hate feeling that out of control. Not knowing when it will finally be over, and feeling like it lasts for ages. When I finally stopped, I sat there and cried and cried. Brock came in to see if I was okay (evidently I’m not a quiet puker) and I said no. I couldn’t stop crying. He tried to get me to calm down, and go sit by the toilet in case I got sick again. I made him sit with me until I was sure I wasn’t going to be sick anymore, and then decided to try to go back to bed. Maybe the worst of this was over?
Fat freaking chance.
I immediately had the urge to GO. And it was bad. I took my pillow to the toilet with me, a trick I learned long ago when feeling unwell, and I sat on the toilet for over an hour. I have never, in my life, been so sick. I don’t know if it was the vomiting, diarrhea, combination of both, or the dehydration that started the contractions, but they started STRONG. I had a hard time breathing through them. They were reminiscent of Pitocin contractions, just as painful and only about 2 minutes apart.
I decided to go up and get into the bath, hoping the worst of the sickness was past (figured I’d gotten all of the pizza out) and that I could calm the contractions down. After nearly an hour, crying with discomfort and fear, (and after I had finally called my midwife where she told me under NO UNCERTAIN TERMS to go to the hospital) I woke Brock up and made him bring me some water. I told him, “If I can just keep some water down, I wont have to to go to the hospital.” Somewhat in denial, I chugged about 10oz of cold water, and sat back in the tub, hoping it would stick. Smart, no?
Less than a minute later, I forcefully ejected all of the water I had slammed back into the toilet next to the tub, and then some. As a side note, having someone there to hold your hair back for you is actually really nice. At this point, I started crying again because I didn’t want to have to go to the hospital, I didn’t want to have to go ALONE (someone would have to stay home with Ronan) and I didn’t want to be admitted. I’m pretty sure I was fully into denial about the seriousness of the situation, and it didn’t help that Brock kept encouraging me to “just try some more water.”
I laid down in bed after getting out of the bath with some warm water beside me, and I took a sip every 2 or 3 minutes. I felt the whole time like I was going to throw it up again, but it managed to stay down. After some adjusting, I finally got in a semi-comfortable position, and began to drift off to sleep. “I’ll feel better in the morning,” was what I kept telling myself. Only… every fifteen minutes or so, I had to run to the toilet. Diarrhea was taking the water out of me faster than I could drink it.
At 7:30 this morning, Ronan woke screaming. I went to get him immediately, despite feeling sick, weak, tired and horrible. When I got up to his room, he had peed through his diaper (for the second time in two days) and was freezing cold. Got him up, changed, fed and happy. I then sat down on the couch with a big cup of water and some dry toast. I felt just as terrible as I had the night before. Brock got up, showered, and ready for work. As he was on his way out the door, I broke down sobbing. There was NO way I was going to be able to handle Ronan by myself today. I hadn’t gotten any sleep, I was still feeling sick as a dog, and Ronan wants you to get up every 5 minutes to ‘do!’ something with him. I begged Brock to stay home. I needed him to take care of Ronan, and of me. I guess I must have looked pretty pitiful, because he gave in easier than I had expected and called into work.
My midwife called to check on me, and see how things went. I told her I had managed to keep some water down so I didn’t go to the hospital, and my contractions had stopped not long after I got in bed. Thankfully she wasn’t mad at me. She told me to rest and take it easy, and since Brock was home, I went and got back in bed.
I slept until nearly 1pm, and when I woke, I felt like a million bucks. Not better, mind you, but SO much better than the night before, I suddenly felt like I was alive again. I had a bowl of chicken noodle soup for lunch, and it was the best tasting thing I’d ever eaten in my life.
It is now nearly 11:30pm, and I just woke up from another nap. This evening, Brock started saying that he felt like something awful was going on in his belly, and Ronan has been acting funny. I went to bed early so I could have a little sleep in the event that my boys get sick and need someone to take care of them.
I really hope they didn’t catch this bug. I really hope we are sick free for a while. I really hope this is the last post like this that I ever have to write.
