How the stork came to visit…PART 1

Thursday April 26th our family decided to indulge in a quick n easy dinner after T-Ball.  We drove on through the Burger King and grabbed some chicken nuggets and burgers and headed home to prepare for a busy weekend.  We got the car packed for a fun-filled Tallahassee 3rd birthday for Camo and hit the sack.  Only Jono was abruptly awakened with violent vomiting.  I covered my head with a pillow (poor Jono) and attempted to savor the few minutes of sleep I was capable of at a miserable 35 weeks and 5 days pregnant.  Jono took the next day off work, unsure of how his BK food poisoning would play out.  I sanitized and stayed clear unconvinced it wasn’t a virus.

Nevertheless, we made our way to Tally and thoroughly enjoyed Caminator’s birthday.  We all enjoyed sharing popcorn & cherry coke at AMC watching the new pirate flik (uhm great idea guys), then all went to chickfila to celebrate with cousin Elijah turning one.  We even went to Dee & Jeremy’s wedding (albeit a little grumpily with my pregnant state), but it was a beautiful wedding and nice evening to enjoy Tom Brown Park afterwards.  With all worn out we stayed the night with Nana & Pops and spent a lazy Sunday in Tallahassee.

Monday morning Jono headed back to work, and I braved the boys 3 & 5 year well checks along with my 36 week check flying solo.  Boys aced their checks and we headed to the park before mine. But something felt a little off, maybe the fact that I’ve only few myself gatorade?  I started to break a sweat and began to think if I’d just get it out I’d probably feel better.  I called to see if I could move my appointment up, no chance. Cam wanted grilled cheese so we were off to Zaxby’s, but without thinking I crossed town when I was a block away from one, and by the time we were there I knew I wasn’t eating.  “Ma’am are you ok?” asked the drive through woman. I knew I must look rough.  I couldn’t wipe the pathetic look of misery off my face to politely smile and nod. “Pretty much, no.  Can I get some water?”  I sped off after hearing her turn to someone and say, “that lady should NOT be driving.”  I resisted my urge to shout I’m going to the hospital—do YOU want to jump in and drive!?.

Of course Camo fell asleep, but I still managed to carry him, his lunch my purse and my struggling self into my OBGYN office.  I laid him down and set him up for lunch when the time finally came.  I left him all alone in a DR office waiting room and made a b-line for the restroom I knew all too well.  There I discovered, it was no BK food poisoning that struck Jono, I had a lovely stomach virus.  Eventually, I was brought a barf bag, and felt remotely better. My DR told me I would be fine, I wasn’t dehydrated yet, and to keep drinking liquids.  They did monitor me for 30 minutes—that was real fun being strapped to a chair while the boys wreaked havoc. It was the first time Liam took Cam to the bathroom alone in a public place.  I could hear across the hall how much fun they had with the soap dispenser.  But finally, though the machine showed I was contracting every 4-5 minutes, I was set free, forced to take a sprite and fill a naseau prescription then take it easy.

I began the long drive home, the LONGEST it had ever been.  Every once in a while I would dial Jono’s number then think, what is he going to do come get us and leave the truck?  Forget it, I can do this, I did this drive in labor with Liam–this virus has got nothing.  Finally I had to take a break though.  We stopped at the playground in Carrabelle.  Cam was asleep, Liam eager to play, and I (yes I left my sleeping child in the car with it on) made a B line for the outdoor bathroom. BAD DECISION.  I opted for the bushes by the bathroom, and play area, and finally the van.  Once I lost every ounce of the sprite and water I sipped and every other ounce of moisture in my body, it was on the road again. This time I made the call to Jono.  “I’m only 30 mintues away but I CAN’T do it. Please come.”  He was my voice of reason when I couldn’t be.  You are so close….you can do it. And I did.  Straight to my big green chair where I called my mom crying to tell her I must be dying.  They said to go to triage for fluids if I couldn’t keep anything down the following day, but how much misery can one person—-really two people——bare?

It didn’t take any begging to get Jono to take me back to Tallahassee.  I must’ve looked awful because we hit the ground running, while I agonized. “What should we take?”  I remember answering him—I don’t care to take anything I want to be at the hospital now. Let’s get the boys back in the car and go.  Though Jono did have the sense to grab the bags from the weekend.  And luckily I kept my little green sick bag from earlier.  Though I furiously threw the sprite and water I was forced to drink out the window at my mailbox. Where they still sit to this day.

I don’t want to give another thought to that right.  That LONGEST ride I mentioned earlier was like a flash of lightening. I had one bag.  I was sick many more than one time. I cracked a window and cried and cried. And contracted, every 2-3 minutes.

I envisioned to moment for at least an hour of the ride–and it happened just as I dreamed.  We pulled in and I ran to the elevator and up to the desk.

  • “Oh look at her, bless her soul.”
  • “Poor baby.  I know she’s ready to get it out. “
  • “Ready to have this baby?  What’s your name and we’ll get you ready for triage. Regular contractions? Did your water break?

“No, no I do wish I was happily, having a baby. But I’m dying, stomach virus dying.  Help. I’m so miserable.” And then more crying….which led to triage, 3 hours of fluids, and finally by 1am, still contracting 3 minutes apart but only dilated 1 cm, I was released, a normal human being again.  And swore I would not complain one more minute about the ordinary pregnancy misery.

And though I didn’t, I was scared to death to drive back to Apalachicola contracting every 3 minutes. How’s a girl gonna know when to start the two hour drive to the hospital? Yes, I know the baby is not coming until they are excruciatingly painful, but they didn’t feel like a walk in the park and by that point is Jono going to pull over and catch her flying out!!?? Not to mention the fact that my last delivery was a c-section so EVERY doctor visit I heard the statistics of the c-section scar rupturing and killing the baby and/or mom.  Great.  So it was back to the DR for one last check.

Both boys asleep, Jono stayed with them in the van while I went in.  You are SO dehydrated! Your urine is full of ketones! They admonished me. Uhm. I heard it all last night too lady. Did you see how sick I was yesterday?  Finally Sheridan came in and confirmed my fears that regardless of contractions I would be sent home unless I had dilated, regardless of all my buts, even the fact that I still had not yet kept a thing down. Fine, will you just check me again?  And so she did, after first soothing me that it will happen, and I will make it back, and it will be fine.

BUT.  With one hand in, a look of pleasant surprise appeared on her face.

“Are you ready to have a baby? You’re a 3!”   Music to any miserably pregnant—full or close to full term—-prego’s ears. And I was handed my admittance papers, which I carried with such pleasure and pride I’m surprised they’re not framed on my wall.

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