On Thursday evening, about 10 p.m., an upset stomach awoke me. I puked. I thought, maybe I shouldn’t have eaten that bowl of ice cream. A half an hour later, I didn’t feel better. I felt worse. I puked again. I thought, hmm, maybe this is pregnancy related? A half an hour later, I puked again, and out of, umm, other orifices, if you get my drift. At the same time. I thought, okay, I’m really sick.
Rinse and repeat for the next 7 hours. I couldn’t even keep water down. I felt at death’s doorstep. Sienna, for herself, was kicking up a storm.
Finally, at 5 am (my stubbornness held out for 7 hours), I called the on-call doctor. She said if I couldn’t keep Sprite down, to go into the hospital for some IV fluid replacement.
I couldn’t keep Sprite down.
My husband woke at 6:30 and I filled him in. He’d been clued in that something was wrong by all of the toilet flushings. I told him I felt I should go to the hospital, but that I wanted to get Brae up and off to school first.
Finally, at 8 am, we got to the hospital. I could barely walk, I was so weak. I was concerned about Sienna, and praying. They admitted me in the maternity ward (apparently, when you’re sick and pregnant, you go to the maternity ward). I was hooked up to IV fluids, anti-nausea, and had blood work. My potassium levels were low, so then they started potassium supplements.
The doctor opined I had the 24-hour stomach bug (which I knew had been going around at Brae’s school, and yet Brae wasn’t sick (yet)). She said when you are pregnant, you are just even more vulnerable. And, with how sensitive my stomach has been during this pregnancy and hormones, I probably was an especially susceptible victim.
They hooked up the fetal heart monitor, and I got to hear Sienna beating away –at about 150 bpm. A blessed sound. Thank you, Lord.
The doctor said as long as I remained hydrated, Sienna should be fine. At this gestational age (22 weeks), they are very resilient.
I stayed in the hospital for 8 hours, on bedrest, hooked up to fluids and anti-nausea. I only threw up once during that time — after trying to eat some peaches. They asked if I wanted to stay the night. I said no. I wanted to go home.
A half an hour after I left the hospital, I puked again, after trying to eat some jell-o and toast. Clearly, the anti-nausea medicine, the same one I’d been on earlier in my pregnancy and had successfully kept me from throwing up, was not working. I was THAT sick.
I remained on death’s doorstep until, truly, about 10 p.m. last night — a full 24 hours after it started. And it left me almost as quickly as it had come.
Today, I’m still recovering. Can’t eat a whole lot and very tired. But so thankful that the worse has passed.
And, I’m a little grateful. I feel like Sienna and I went to war together. And I feel more bonded to her.