For those of you who follow me on Facebook and Twitter, you’re already well aware that I may or may not have spent the very early portion of Sunday morning in an emergency room at a posh hospital in the Chicago suburbs. I may or may not have gone to the hospital after spending seven hours of Saturday evening vomiting promptly every thirty minutes for a total of fifteen pukes and two unfortunate changes of underwear. I also may or may not have found out that vomiting in your third trimester is made easier by being on all fours, and that in moments of desperation I will beg the nearest ER nurse for an IV to rehydrate me – things I never would have assumed before this weekend.

I caught a stomach bug that was goin around, and I’m pleased to say that it gave the Hof and I some good preparatory experience for what I’d imagine D-day will entail: multiple calls to the midwife (who was kind enough to coach us through my stomach bug in the midst of delivering babies), many, many clean towels, and my exclamation to everyone I was wheeled past in the hospital that “I’M TWENTY NINE WEEKS PREGNANT!” for fear they would inject me with some drug unsafe for my daughter in utero.

You hear these horror stories of people who were given a drug they were allergic to because their emergency medical band fell off, or a dosage gone wrong because the nurse was overworked, underpaid, and just needed a vacation forheavensake! Well I was determined not to be one of those people and questioned everything that went into my IV – what would the side effects be and um, hi, but my face is tingling, just as an FYI. At one point, when I reminded the nurse that “I’M TWENTY NINE WEEKS PREGNANT! And is this safe for the baby?” she responded with a snarky, “the doctor wouldn’t have prescribed it if it wasn’t safe for the baby.”

So that’s when I just shut up, told her she had gorgeous hair, and turned on the tele to watch Ben Harper on Austin City Limits. About five minutes after that miracle-working hydrating IV, I was ranting to Matt about how STUPID Reliant K was, how Ben was just letting it all go to pot, and myohmy how I LOVE THIS IV!

The whole ordeal was really rather comical (aside from the moments when I really feared my daughter was in danger), and we had a stupendous weekend with family although it was cut short. My biggest regret? Not being able to eat my sister’s slow-roasted Chicago beefs. I cut all of that meat the day beforehand and didn’t even get to taste it!

Now that we’re home, my system is slowly returning to normal. And frankly, as I head off to the grocery store today to fill our empty fridge, I look forward to doing so with a non-existant appetite – something I haven’t experienced in seven months. You really can’t imagine how nice it will be to walk past the bakery and not fight with myself over whether or not I need to buy five chocolate cakes… one for each workday BECAUSE I WORK SO HARD!

This entry was posted on Tuesday, April 6th, 2010 at 3:27 pm and is filed under Babies!, Family, Holidays, Little Friend, Preggers, Stress, The Idiotic Things I Do, friends. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.