*It's 3:38am. I've been awake for an hour nursing and taking care of a barfing child. The second barfing child in a week. Sloane is resting, but I am wide awake. Insomnia has been my friend since Matt and I were engaged. So, here I am blogging.
Matt woke up and went to work. To a lot of people, that sounds crazy - but for Matt, that's pretty normal. I was really glad he was going, even though I worried about him being so sleep deprived from the night before. I wanted to feel like something was normal because the situation I was in was far from normal.
After Matt left, Dr. W came in to check on me. I really do love my doctor. He was kind and sweet, but he shared the same worry that the on-call doctor had the night before. I needed to stay pregnant. He told me that I was really sick and there was no way I was going home that day or probably even the next day.
It was like the world started to cave in around me.
Tomorrow was Sloane's birthday.
My little Sloane was turning 3 and I was going to be stuck in a hospital bed for it.
Monday ended up being an on-going cycle of somewhat controlling the fever and the fever controlling me. I spent the day shaking and listening to the alarms from the heart monitors. Sometimes I would start to contract. Sometimes Bennett wouldn't want to move. I didn't sleep and I couldn't eat. I was completely unable to sit up in bed. I had been on antibiotics for almost 24 hours, but I wasn't getting any better.
By 5pm, the nurses were asking for Matt's phone number because it was starting to get really bad again. When he walked in the door, I lost it. I don't think I've ever been so discouraged and beaten down as I was at that moment. I felt like a horrible mother. Waves of guilt just kept crashing over me. This was my fault and now everyone else was suffering.
That night, they gave me a sleeping pill. It was the 2nd sleeping pill I had ever had. I still didn't sleep. The fever was too strong for me to sleep. Instead, I suffered through the fever and hallucinated from the sleeping pill. Or maybe it was because of the fever. Either way, Matt spent most of the night sitting in a chair right next to my bed.
I can't even begin to describe the emotions I had the next morning.
Missing a birthday might not sound like a big deal, but it's a miserable experience. I couldn't talk to any of the nurses without just sobbing. It didn't take long before most of the nurses knew that it was Sloane's birthday and I was missing it. By noon, there was a nurse in my room most of the day. They would sit and talk to me until Matt was able to come back to the hospital. They tried to keep me as distracted as possible. No one suggested that Sloane come to the hospital. I knew why. I looked like death. The thought of having any of my children see me in the condition I was in was horrifying. I was their mother. To them, I'm supposed to be invincible. I remember most of that day vividly - but I can't really blog about the whole experience. Even though it's been months, those emotions are still very raw. I think I might spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to Sloane.
For some reason, I thought I was getting better. I didn't feel any better and I was still running a fever, but with all the antibiotics and fluid they were pumping me full of, I really thought I was getting better.
I wasn't. I would be staying another day.
Wednesday was an interesting day. Wednesday morning when the nurse came in to check on me, she realized there was fluid in my lungs. A chest xray revealed that all the fluids they had given me were starting to back up in my lungs. I had developed an awful cough and I was wheezing. Dr. W also informed me that they were going to need some more blood. He was starting to suspect that I had contracted an infection that was resistant to antibiotics. He didn't have to tell me what would happen if that were the case. I knew. They'd be delivering the baby and I would be in huge trouble.
All my IV's were taken out. I was switched to all oral medications.
I found out during my induction that Dr. W sat out at the nurse's station for hours trying to decide if he needed to take me back for a C-Section. He was even more distraught when my blood results came back. My antibiotics should have been working. I should be getting better, but I wasn't. No one knew what to do with me. I was put on potassium shots because my potassium was so low. These were extremely disgusting. They tasted like really really strong salt water and they gave me sores all over my mouth. I was also told that I was losing weight. I knew I hadn't been eating very well, but I didn't realize that my lack of appetite was actually making me lose weight. Every time a nurse came in my room, she would ask what she could bring me to eat. I was offered ice cream, milkshakes, cookies, brownies etc. One nurse came in and said, "You know how when your kids are sick and you want them to eat so bad that you'll let them have anything they want to eat? You're at that point. Anything you want, you can have." - I still didn't feel like eating. I managed to eat half a bowl of oatmeal that morning and some fries that night.
I just wanted to go home. That's all I prayed for. I just wanted to go home and be a mom again. I wanted it all back. The spills, messes, tantrums, potty accidents, sickness, whining, fighting and laundry. I wanted it all! I spent the day wishing for it all back. I knew I couldn't go through my whole life without complaining ever again, but if I got to go home, I was going to try.
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