Monday during the day and evening I was feeling fine, but Monday night I was up sick a few times. This would have been pretty par for the course with my previous pregnancy, but not this time around. I got up Tuesday morning, and other than feeling tired from being up most of the night, I felt fine. Went to work, continued to eat and drink water like usual. But around 10am, something just felt off. My typical non-painful Braxton Hicks contractions turned into fairly regular painful contractions. Like stop-you-mid-sentence painful. I spent much of the day feeling nauseous but not actually getting sick.
After a hasty presentation I had to make around 1145am, I hurried home to take a quick nap, hoping that I was feeling so poorly because I was lacking sleep. After an hour and a half (yes, I know I took a REALLY long lunch break) of tossing and turning because of the painful contractions, I got up and went back to work. My usual Braxton Hicks remedies were not working (hydrate; change positions; relax; etc).
Starting to worry, I texted the Chef over at Pettus Pie who suggested I wait a day unless things just got unbearable. Fully trusting her and already having an appointment set up with the OB the next day, I decided she was right.
Tuesday night got worse and worse. The pain in my so-called Baby Ball had become a constant radiating pain, and had traveled to my entire back - upper, middle and lower, and I spent several hours lying on the couch just trying to find a position that I could tolerate. But whenever I had another Braxton Hicks contraction, it felt like sharp daggers and made me cry. After a very long bath (one where I accidentally fell asleep), my pain was worse, and it was all I could do to lie on my bed and writhe and cry. My mom called Hubs to come home (I'd been trying to not be dramatic, and said he could go to an event he had planned with friends), and as soon as he walked in, all he said was "Can you ride in the car?"
We got to the hospital around 11pm and I could hardly stand upright or breathe. Couldn't finish sentences and was practically crying just trying to stand.
It turns out I was so dehydrated (which I still can't believe because I regularly drink 100oz of water per day or MORE!) that it was causing the pain and the contractions. The dehydration led to this seriously-needle-phobic Mama getting stabbed FIVE times for the sake of one IV. The first IV attempt was a fail, and it hurt so bad while the nurse rolled that needle around in my arm that I was bawling literally begging to go home and suffer in pain there instead. The next IV tries came with a lidocaine shot (which is why there were a total of 5 stabs for three actual IV attempts). The third attempt was successful in a very uncomfortable place - the side of my wrist next to my thumb.
I spent the remainder of the night and most of Wednesday getting rapid fluids and attempting to not be sick/have contractions anymore.
I was able to come home last night, leaving the hospital around 6pm, pumped full of fluids, and sporting a few bruises on my wrists. I don't think I've ever slept so well as I did last night.
Important thanks go to:
Tom, my father-in-law, who, without question, gave up his chair, his water, and food when I showed up unexpectedly in his office Tuesday afternoon near tears and about ready to pass out. The quickness with which he responded to my needs is probably what got me home safely from work.
Diana, my mother-in-law, who graciously cancelled her own plans with my sister-in-law to come help me with TH Tuesday night while Hubs was out.
My mom who knew I wasn't feeling well and was preparing dinner when I got home (side note- she's been living with us while recovering from a surgery a few weeks ago), so I didn't have to attempt to stand over the stove to cook for my family.
Hubsandwich- who knew to take me to the hospital and only left my side to take TH to school in the morning and pick him up from school in the evening.
My nurses - Nicole and Trina - for being generally and all-around awesome.
Dr. Conrad (what list would be complete without him?!) for coming by first thing in the morning to check on me AND after he'd finished a long day at work to see how I was doing and discharge me. I've never met a doctor so caring and sincere.
Sarah, my sister-in-law, who came to visit me in the hospital and ended up arriving in time for the nurse to take out my IV, holding my hand through that process, and then driving me home.
And my coworkers for picking up the slack of all the things I needed to get done at work yesterday,
But not one girl at work- a "frenemy," if you will. During my entire pregnancy with TH, she constantly told me that I wasn't really sick and I wasn't really itchy and that it was all in my head. Even this time around, she told me that if I started to itch again that it was in my head and if I told myself I wasn't itchy, then I wouldn't be. On Tuesday, she told me to "suck it up and stop being so dramatic" and that I wasn't really feeling badly, and that it was instead all in my head. Let's all just take a moment and thank her for not being a doctor.
