Speaking of Insomnia....

*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.

There's FOUR of them.

About a week ago, my sister (Tevyn) informed me that my blog was getting "Heavy".

I'm kind of a nerd, so the only reason I knew what she meant was because Marty McFly uses the word "heavy" in that same context on the move Back to the Future. (Which in all honesty, is my all-time favorite movie).

So!

I've decided to make this a lighter post.

Things have been crazy since Bennett was born. I really thought that having him in the summer would make things easier. I assumed that I would have everything under control by the time school started - which couldn't be farther from the truth.

This house continues to be the best example of the happiest form of chaos.

We are blissfully happy, but also utterly exhausted. Things just never slow down.

For example, I thought I had the house running fairly smoothly again. Once school started, I had to figure out how and when the groceries would be bought. I ended up purchasing a Baby Bjorn (after a strong recommendation from Aunt Josie. Thanks again.) in order to be able to use my cart for, well, groceries! (Imagine! Needing a cart for groceries!) I put Maddox in the cart seat, Sloane inside the large part of the cart and Bennett in the Baby Bjorn. Holynd is usually at Preschool, but if she is with us, she walks. As the cart fills up, Sloane usually ends up walking too.

Yes! We get stares from everyone we pass. One day a guy stopped me and asked, "Uh.. Where ya going to put the next one?" I was pretty proud of myself when I answered, "On my back!".

Anyway, for a few weeks, this system worked. Until....... the Infiniti decided to die!

Matt and I have discussed several times how it would be nice to get a second car that fit all the kids. Matt's truck, obviously, can only fit three kids in the back - and it's a very TIGHT squeeze. We didn't really research this idea seriously, because... well, was that really ever going to happen?

Uh. Yes!

I walked out of the grocery store one day, loaded all three kids up, applauded myself for getting all the shopping done and still having ample time before having to pick up Holynd from Preschool, and then went to start the car.

Riiiinnnn, riiin rinnnnnnnnnnn.... Nothing.

Riiinnnn, riiin, rinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn. Nothing.

You have GOT to be kidding me!

So I called Matt. He came over and tried jumping it.

Nothing.

My dad came over and tried jumping it.

Nothing.

My poor Infiniti was BROKEN!

Now. If this had happened a year ago, it wouldn't be that big of a deal at all. We just weren't nearly as busy as we are nowadays.

But now, not having a car was basically like sawing off one of the legs on a chair. It just wasn't going to work!

Matt had it towed to a shop nearby, then ended up towing it to the dealership. After being told several different times that it would be done, "tomorrow, at the latest.", we were without a car for a total of about 10 days.

Except for the kidney infection, this was the LONGEST ten days ever! Everyone was so happy when Matt drove the car back into the driveway. Especially me!

I called in a lot of favors that week. I'm so glad that we have such a wonderful group of friends and family. Many thanks to Aunt Alissa for lending us her car through most of this experience.
I've come to except that I'm always dealing with some sort of situation in this house. Someone is always sick, wounded, unhappy, hungry, tired, stressed, dirty or overly-excited.

Here are a few things I've learned.

1. Always, ALWAYS park next to the Cart Return at the grocery store. This gives you room  to get your kids out, because there's not someone parked next to you, and also easy access to a cart to strap all your children into. This eliminates the problem of having cars trying to pull into the spot next to you while you are loading and unloading and also helps with getting everyone into the store without injury.

2. Just plan on things going badly. It's really tough to have such high expectations for an outing only to have your hopes and dreams crushed by a potty accident or temper tantrum. Just decide ahead of time that something will go wrong - then if nothing goes wrong, you'll be the happiest mommy on the block.

3. Accept help. I'm not talking about the people who always offer to watch your kids for you (which I'm extremely grateful for). I'm talking about the people who ask to help you with the small things.

"Can I get that door for you?" 

YES!

"Can I push that stroller for you?"

YES!

"Would you like help out to your car?"

Is the sky blue? YES!

"Do you need help carrying anything?"

Yes! Please take all the children and I'll just carry this diaper bag.

I used to always try to do things without any help. I felt like I had to prove that I could do it. Stupid. Stupid. STUPID! These people need good feelings and blessings just as much as I need the help. Win-Win!

4. Food can be your greatest ally or your worst enemy. My life revolves around meals. If we're late for a meal, my kids will let you know! They start falling apart!!!! All the sudden they're upset about fights they had with one another a week ago. I've had to come to terms with the fact that I can NOT plan a day without planning out meals too. I usually know what my kids are going to have for lunch two or three days into the future based on what we have planned.

I am still nursing Bennett which, as always, has its pros and cons. I'm really liking not having to worry about bottles and supplies when I'm out, but I have to constantly tell my kids that I can't always help them while I'm feeding Bennett. There are some days where I end up in the bathroom, nursing Bennett and reading Sloane a book while she tries to poop.

It's horrible, I know, but I use food for bribes ALL THE TIME! I only have so many weapons and food is one of them. I think I sent Holynd to bed without dinner one time, maybe a year ago. (Gasp! And she lived through it!? Yes she did. Shocking!) I don't even remember why. Most of the time, I use it as a reward for good behavior. "If you're good at the store, we'll go to Chick Fil A for lunch!" I'm probably setting them up for a life filled with emotional eating, BUT THERE'S FOUR OF THEM PEOPLE! Four! I have to use what weapons I have.

5. I will always be potty training. Always.

I can honestly say that I've been completely maxed out since I've had kids. I was as overwhelmed with one as I am with four. You are always given the capacity to handle what you need to. There have been quite a few times when people have said to me, "You must think I'm such a whiner because I'm complaining about my two kids!" No. That's definitely NOT true. I remember feeling crazy when I had one, two, three and four kids. I remember full well sobbing and crying when I had discovered that Holynd had painted half of her room with poop. It's true that, in this house, a room full of poop is the equivalent of a spilled glass of juice at the breakfast table. That doesn't mean that I think everyone else SHOULDN'T be stressed out by an experience like that. When people come up to me and say, "I had the hardest day. One of my kids was having a horrible day...and then the baby wouldn't quit crying. And, of course, no one slept last night...." I know they're at the same level of stress as I am after a hard day. The amount of kids doesn't matter.

I remember when the girls were babies and I hated when people would say, "Just wait until you have three." That made me feel weak. There isn't a mother on earth who should be considered weak. I think the very definition of a mother is a person willing to be completely maxed-out at the end of everyday for the rest of their life.

I am completely maxed-out, but I love it.

Admitted

I was being admitted before the kidney infection was even confirmed.

The on-call doctor was very nice and comforting, but he was also direct when he said,

"We need to keep you pregnant. Not for the baby's sake, but for your sake".

It was decided that delivering the baby would mean weeks and weeks of recovery for me. I was 36 weeks along. Even though it wasn't quite full term, Bennett was a good size and would probably thrive if he was born. However, I was really struggling. It was getting scary. If I was to deliver, a vaginal delivery wasn't even an option. I would be having an emergency C-section if it came down to it.

The biggest concern was the fever. The things it was doing to Bennett's heart rate and mine weren't good. The problem: when you're pregnant there are very few things they can give you for a fever. Up until this point in my life, I had no idea a fever could make you feel so horrible. The headache it gave me made it hard to open my eyes and I could actually hear my head throbbing.

I know the Lord had a hand in what followed because as soon as I got to my room, I took a turn for the worse. I haven't stopped thanking him for making sure I was at the hospital before it got really bad.

The Tylenol I was given while I was being admitted didn't even touch the fever. I was shaking uncontrollably - to me, it felt like I was freezing to death. They finally decided to put me in an air- conditioned gown. This was a plastic gown that had vents all over it. They plugged a hose into the wall and it would blow cold air all over my body. To a person that feels like their freezing - that pretty much sounds like a death sentence. BUT, they didn't stop there. The nurses then filled surgical gloves with ice and placed them under my armpits and on my chest.

I couldn't stop crying. I just sobbed. Every nurse that came in my room just apologized profusely. I really wanted to be tough. I was willing to go through anything to keep Bennett safe, but the tears just kept coming.

Two hours after I was admitted, they called the on-call doctor back in. The fever hadn't budged and I was a wreck. Bennett's heart rate and mine were both still climbing. He finally ordered an ultrasound and told me I might be sent up to ICU.

I could NOT believe this was happening. I still can't believe it did happen. How did I ever end up so sick!?

They took the ice packs off and shut off the air. I couldn't help but be slightly relieved. I was put back into a wheelchair and wheeled down to Radiology. The ultrasound they did wasn't for Bennett. They wanted to get a good look at both my kidneys. If there was any sort of abscess on my kidneys, I was ICU bound.

In all honestly, I don't remember a lot about the ultrasound. I don't remember who did the ultrasound or what was even said while we were in the room. The one thing I do remember is Matt's face. We've had ups and downs in our marriage. There have been a few worrisome times, but (until the kidney infection) I've never seen Matt look genuinely worried. Matt has always had an ongoing unstoppable faith that things will work out, but I didn't see that look of peace in his eyes this time. He was worried. Really worried.

That was truly terrifying.

I have no memory of being wheeled back into my room. I have absolutely no idea how those nurses got me back into my bed. I do remember that when I got back, they decided to give me some pain meds to, hopefully, get me to relax and sleep. Things after that got even hazier. I remember watching Matt and realizing how late it was. Somehow it had gotten to be 3am.

For some reason, I remember the prompting vividly. It was as if someone had said it directly in my ear. I needed a blessing and I needed my dad here for it. I told Matt what I wanted and even though he looked a little nervous about calling at 3am, he called my dad.

The next thing I knew, it was daylight.

The E.R.

 

There was a knock at the door.

 

I had completely lost track of time. Had I fallen asleep? I didn't feel rested at all, but I must've finally fallen asleep. Or passed out from sheer exhaustion.

 

I went to the door. It was my parents. They had come to pick up the dessert I could no longer take to the family reunion. After opening the door, I walked right over to the couch and sat down. I couldn't stay standing without getting light-headed.

 

My mom took one look at me and said, "I think you need to go to the Emergency Room."

 

I thought I needed to too. However, the fear of being told it actually WAS just the flu and THE ONLY thing I could do was rest, was too much. Nope. I was staying at home. By tomorrow I would feel fine.

 

I needed to make it to Sunday. It was Father's Day. My Kneader's Chunky Cinnamon bread was in the fridge ready for Matt's Father's Day Breakfast. All of Sloane's presents were wrapped for her second birthday celebration.

 

A trip to the Emergency Room was out of the question.

 

My parents took my dessert and left. I went back to bed and alternated between crying and sleeping. My right side throbbed with pain. My fever was out of control, but every time I checked my temperature it said, "99.8" degrees. By this point, I was convinced that Bennett must have dropped into an awkward position. I had battled sciatica my whole pregnancy. My right side had always taken the worst hit. Sciatica and the flu - could this pregnancy get anymore difficult?!

 

Looking back, the pregnancy was the problem. Every symptom that pointed to a Kidney Infection, also could be blamed on the pregnancy. This was my fourth pregnancy in five years. My body had been through a lot. Every time a new symptom started, I immediately found a logical way to blame the pregnancy.

 

This was something that would be repeated to me by multiple nurses during my hospital stay.

 

When Matt got home from work, I tried to eat. I really tried to "MAKE" myself feel better. I wanted so badly to be well. I forced myself to sit up in bed and eat. I showered and tried to do my hair. I ignored the dizziness and the shivers. My thinking was that if I started to go through the motions, my body would just follow along.

 

Night came and sleep didn't. I had fully expected to be better by morning.

 

I wasn't. It was worse. But I wasn't ready to admit that to ANYONE.

 

I tried desperately to get ready for my family to come over that afternoon. Matt ended up doing most of the work. He got everything out, set everything up, cooked pizzas and cleaned the house. All the while, I sat propped up in a chair getting more and more sick.

 

Again, I forced myself to get somewhat presentable. I needed to look better than I did the day before. If anyone found out that I was getting sicker, I knew they'd drag me to the hospital. I didn't want that to happen. I was still worried they would tell me it was just the flu and to get over it. How embarrassing would it be to be told that you were just a wuss?

 

Everyone came over and all seemed fine. But, by the end of the party, I knew something was terribly wrong.

 

Bennett wasn't moving.

 

Bennett was my most active baby. He still is. The child never stops moving. He wiggles when he's awake and wiggles when he's asleep. Once he first started fluttering, he didn't stop.

 

My fever had especially made him freak out. I was convinced it was because I just shook so bad. I thought that the shaking made it really hard for him to stay comfortable. At the time, it seemed likely.

 

But now, nothing.

 

I watched from my chair while Sloane opened her presents. Third birthdays really seem to be the first time that they realize that the whole party is just for them. Sloane loved it. She loved her gifts and she especially loved all the attention. We had big plans for the next week. Tuesday was her actual birthday and Friday we were planning on taking everyone to Cowabunga Bay. Her celebration was far from over.

 

Everyone left. I was so relieved. I could finally go to bed and get better. However, I was still really worried about Bennett's movements.

 

That worry only escalated later on.

 

 I started bleeding.

 

I didn't cry. I didn't get upset. I looked Matt in the eye and told him to take me to the E.R.

 

Even though the bleeding was scary, it was oddly comforting at the same time. As weird as that sounds, it finally gave me a reason to the hospital. Ever since Wednesday, the "I just don't feel good" reason wasn't enough for me. I didn't want to burden anyone. The bleeding, however, was a legitimate concern. No one would could blame me for wanting to get checked out.

 

My sister drove all the way back over to our house and we left to go to the hospital.

 

Neither of us spoke on the drive there. We parked and walked into the E.R. It was empty. The lady in the window asked us what she could do for us.

 

"I have the flu and it's not getting any better."

 

"Are you pregnant?"

 

"Yes" (As if the huge belly didn't give it away).

 

"Go up to Labor and Delivery. If they want us to see you down here, they'll send you back down."

 

I wasn't that surprised. I knew they'd want the baby monitored, which is what I wanted too.

 

By the time we got up to Labor and Delivery, I was a mess. I hadn't been on my feet that much in days. I was staggering, shivering and crying.

 

The triage nurse's look said it all.

 

She thought I was in labor. She was kind and her initial reaction was excitement, but as my story unfolded, her excitement turned into genuine concern.

 

She immediately took us to a room and slapped a fetal monitor on my stomach.

 

Her look changed again.

 

This time she was out rightly distressed.

 

Bennett's heart rate was high. Way too high. I wasn't sure what to think about this. Everything I had read about pregnancy seemed to say that a low fetal heart rate was a concern. I had no idea what a high heart rate meant. She checked my pulse. It was at this point that she starting asking a bunch of questions. I was slightly confused by them all because they didn't seem to relate to the flu at all. She finally put a heart monitor on the end of my finger. After a minute or so, an alarm started going off. Another minute passed and a different alarm sounded. The first alarm indicated that Bennett's heart rate was too high. The second would indicate that my heart rate was way too high as well. These alarms would become common background noises for the next couple of days. She told us she was going to go grab a mask, just in case it was the flu. That was fine and I actually thought about maybe having her grab one for Matt. I quickly decided against it. If it was the flu, he had likely already been exposed.

 

When she came back in, I immediately noticed she wasn't wearing a mask.

 

She had me sit up and she started pounding on my back. I cried out in pain. She and Matt helped me lay back down. She then checked my temperature. "103 degrees".

 

It was starting to become obvious that whatever I had was NOT the flu.

Week 35

Something was wrong.

I couldn't put my finger on it, but something was wrong.

I just didn't feel good at all. My appetite was gone. My energy was non-existent and I had little or no patience to offer to my littles.

Thursday got really bad. I was in pain. My right side hurt all over. I remember wondering if it was the start of contractions. No. That wasn't it. The pain was too isolated. What was it? It almost felt like a kidney infection. I had had a kidney infection before. A few months before I got pregnant with Holynd. It was horrible. I fainted because the pain was so bad.

This couldn't be a kidney infection. It didn't hurt bad enough.

That night the fever hit. I was shivering uncontrollably. Suddenly, it all made sense.

I had caught the flu.

I shivered and shook all night long. I ached everywhere. Sleep did not happen.

I got out of bed Friday morning and immediately called my doctor. I explained to the nurse what was going on. She confirmed my suspicions. It was the middle of summer and I had, somehow, caught the flu.

I was really concerned about the fever. She asked if I had been taking my temperature.
"Yes. It's always right around 99 - 100 degrees."

"That's pretty normal. Fluids and rest. Call Monday morning if you're not feeling better".

"What about a bladder infection or a kidney infection?"

"Oh. You'd have to be pretty sick to start running a fever from either one of those."

So that's what I did. I rested. Well, as much as a person can rest with three kids running around making demands. I tried my best to put on a brave face, but I was not doing well. I couldn't shake the feeling that something else was wrong. I began to wonder if this fever was going to send me right into labor. But, at that point in time, I felt like I had done all I could do. I had called my doctor and I was trying to rest.

I desperately wanted to get better before Saturday. We had a big family reunion Saturday. I had ordered a dessert from one of my favorite places for the occasion. Matt was even taking the day off to go with us.

By the time I got into bed Friday, I knew I wasn't going to be able to go. Little did I know, this was only the beginning of the downward spiral. That whole night was awful. I was forcing myself to drink as much water as I could. I kept taking Tylenol the minute I was able to take it. None of it was helping. I was getting sicker.

It was another night of no sleep. I felt like someone had beaten me with a bat. Worst of all was this horrid headache that would not go away. It made me dizzy and I had trouble staying on my feet.

I called my mom. There would be no family reunion for me. Matt knew I was in no condition to take care of kids, so he took the kids to work with him. So I laid in bed and cried. I couldn't take care of my kids. I couldn't take care of myself. I just laid there and prayed, "Let this pass. I need to be a mom. This isn't fair to my kids. Why would You let me get sick? I was already struggling as it was. If anything, let it just be me. Do not let Matt and the kids get sick".

It wouldn't pass. It would only get worse. My poor little Bennett was just along for the ride.