The Evil of Stomach Bugs

(This is a fairly gross post, so don't read if you've just eaten!)

Last night was supposed to be a happy night. I had just turned in my last final paper and was ready to CELEBRATE! Well, celebrate as much as a pregnant woman can, which means a virgin peach dacquiri and dinner at the Olive Garden with good friends. Unfortunately, as soon as we got there I started feeling a little funky. After losing my salad in the bathroom (and getting plenty of dirty looks from people who probably thought I was binging and purging!) but pretty much feeling fine otherwise, I was still thinking that this was just a random bout of nausea that would pass.

No such luck. After getting home I got progressively sicker. Soon my body was emptying itself of fluids in every imagineable way, simultaneously with all the other ways. Let's just say I don't think I'll be eating Olive Garden again for awhile. I kept trying to get to sleep but would wake up having to run to the bathroom, or by massively painful stomach cramps that maybe, possibly, felt like contractions. They were coming and going in regular waves, had peaks and lulls, and I did find that the breathing exercises I learned in birthing class helped.

Now, I was pretty sure I wasn't in labor. But I was scared and getting more and more hysterical because I, for the first time, got a taste of what real labor could be like--intolerable pain and violent sickness and fear for the baby all at once--and man did it freak me out. All I can do is cross my fingers that I'm one of the lucky ones who doesn't get nauseous because throwing up weakens me...I totally lose my perspective, my ability to tolerate pain. After several hours of progressively violent illness and crying, I began to get dizzy and faint. Finally around 2:00am Mario insisted that we call Labor & Delivery, who in turn insisted that we come in, and there it was: my first hospital admittance in my WHOLE LIFE, other than being born--one emergency room trip when I was little because my dad accidentally ran over my foot doesn't count. It was followed after awhile (we had to wait for me to be able to pee, then for the lab to lose and find my pee, from which even a completely non-medical person would have been able to glance at and diagnose dehydration) by my first IV ever. Even though I was to the point of not caring what the hell they did to me, I handled the IV about as well as I usually handle needles, meaning NOT WELL. Why am I such a wuss? The nurse told Mario to warn hospitals in the future that I something-down when I get needled, some medical terminology I can't remember for loss of blood pressure. My poor nurse.

They began dumping fluids and anti-nausea medication into me, whereupon I slowly started to feel human again. After that the only scary part of the process was when the baby's heartbeat got kind of erratic for awhile. Now I can see why people opt not to have fetal monitoring. Brief Doppler peeps give you the reassurance that all is good, but with fetal monitoring every fluctuation becomes evident and worrisome, and man, she was all over the place for awhile, up and down, and the volume was up so loud that all I could hear were these speed-ups and slow-downs that seemed so dramatic. But the nurse was watching her carefully and after awhile Crazy Scarlett calmed down...thank you Baby, because your mom really didn't need any more stress at that point

In the morning, I called my mom and she came to relieve Mario so he could go to work...not such a great thing for him after having been up the entire night. It was nice to have her there to chat with, although by the time they released me two bags of fluids later, around 10:30 this morning, I was exhausted, so exhausted that I didn't even shower (and you can imagine the state of me) before collapsing and sleeping the entire day.

I had to get up for a regularly scheduled doctor's appointment at 4:00 pm (the hospital nurse tried to cancel it for me but they insisted I come in) and here is the verdict at 37 weeks pregnant: No dilation. No effacement. Even after all that, my body is not showing the slightest sign of getting ready for delivery.

That's good news is that after last night, I'm not so sure that's bad news. A hospital visit is a nice cure for delivery impatience. I need some distance from the pain and fear of that experience before I go through it again, this time for real. So Scarlett, I know I've been pestering you to come early, but let me revise my request: come whenever you want if it means I get nausea-and-diarrhea-free labor, as painful as it might be, and you keep your little heart beat steady.