I
woke up at about 3 AM on Saturday violently vomiting. I had felt well
when I went to bed and, although I had no fever, even a tablespoon of
water caused me to wretch for long intervals. Each episode caused my
cramping to increase until I was pushed into a cycle of near constant
contractions. By 11:00 I had enough, and I knew I needed intervention.
As
luck would have it, my mom and my sister were coming to paint the
baby's room. The pair took one look at me, packed me into the car and
drove me to the hospital. Scott stayed home to care for Robby and to
tackle the most unenviable task of cleaning up the prolific HazMat scene
I had created.
I was expecting to be
seen in the emergency room, primarily because the hospital is still
under construction and I didn't think that the labor and delivery ward
was complete. It turns out that it was officially opened on Wednesday,
and I was the first emergency patient to utilize the facility. The
nurses seemed so excited when they wheeled me into the brand new ward.
I'm fairly certain that I saw two nurses high five each other when my
presence was announced. Needless to say, being the only patient on the
ward had significant benefits. I was seen quickly, and the staff was
attentive and excited about caring for me.
Within
minutes I was in a gown, propped into bed and hooked up to a variety of
baby monitors. Needless to say, I was scared. I knew that this baby was
going to be facing a struggle if he or she made an appearance this
early. I felt helpless and vulnerable.
It
turns out that the vomiting, coupled with dehydration, caused my body to
enter a cycle of contractions. I was experiencing rather significant
contractions every two minutes, like clock work, for several hours.
After two liters of IV fluid were administered, along with medication to
thwart the vomiting, the severity of the contractions began to wane.
After spending the afternoon in the hospital I was discharged. I crawled
into bed and slept until the next morning.
When
I woke up seemingly ever muscle in my body hurt. To me it felt like I
had done 500 sit-ups, although that analogy is only a guess because I
know I've never done that many. Sunday was spent resting and trying to
keep Scott centered and calm before his procedure. That in and of
itself felt like mission impossible!
I'm
looking forward to seeing the sonogram pictures today. I have been
worried since my unexpected time in the hospital and just need to verify
that everything is okay. It is one thing to hear the doctor's
assessment, but it something entirely different to have visual
confirmation. Wish us luck!
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