No, I'm not in labor and this story isn't about playing placenta darts. I've been sick this past week with an upper respiratory infection, so in lieu of posting or doing anything remotely productive, I've been in bed going stir crazy.
Which brings me to last night...
(The following is the grossest story ever. Or if it's not the grossest story ever, it certainly is up there. So, fair warning and read at your own risk.)
After five days of congestion, my chest was finally starting to clear a bit last night. I nodded off around 10pm only to wake up a half hour later with that familiar feeling of impending doom.
The type of doom that sounds like, "Oh shit. I'm gonna barf! NOW!"
I waddled out of bed as quickly as I could, which wasn't quick enough.
"BLLAAAAAARFFFF!"
I now know the meaning of projectile vomiting and am very thankful we have wood floors. Stepping over my massive puddle of puke, I raced to the bathroom and immediately sat down to begin simultaneously crapping my brains out while puking in the tub. Multitasking at it's best!
It occurred to me that this would be easier a) without a big yoga ball attached to my belly and b) if I had eaten something that would fit through the bathroom drain.
While I was busy being the human party favor, I hear the worst noise possible (and given all the noises that were happening inside the bathroom, this is really saying something):
"Slurp. Slurp. Sluuuuurp."
"What the? OH! Boudreau, no! NO!"
I had awoken to my body exploding from all ends. My dog, on the other hand, woke up to an unexpected floor dinner.
Gross.
After spending the night expelling everything that even thought about going into my body, I'm finally starting to keep liquids down. The docs say everything is cool, even if a little miserable. I can't help thinking that once I do kick this bug, I'll feel like a million bucks - pregnant or not.
Four more days left. Cross your fingers for a quick recovery or a late baby. I am.
In semi-related news, I got a brilliant idea last night (pre-pukage). Now that I'm so close to my due date, it seems every email I get begins with, "So, if you're not in labor yet..." In my moment of brilliance, I decided to create an automatic email response to let people know when I was in labor. It'd be all nice and typed out, and when the time came, all I'd have to do was turn it on.
Except, moments of brilliance are often accompanied by complete brain farts. The message was left on last night. Naturally, my mom, aunt and sister in law all ended up emailing me, only to receive the very innaccurate response of, "I'm in labor!"
My aunt told my grandma, who told everyone (which is her job as Cheif Family Networker). My mom told the lady at Blockbuster. And my sister-in-law passed along the good news as well. After all, this is the moment we've all been waiting for.
So, today has been spent calling family members up and pulling the proverbial, "Psyche!" In one of those funny moments where I'm equally grateful and impressed by our families, I realized that not one of them (not even mom) was pissed that they didn't receive a call. They were all just happy for us.
They have now been assured and reassured that when the time does come, they sure as hell won't be finding out by an automatically generated response.
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1 comment:
You poor thing! I hope you're feeling much better. Don't worry about the auto email- it's called pregnancy brain. Those darn babies suck at least a standard deviation's worth of IQ from us when we're carrying them...then we have to hope that some of the brain power returns after they're finished sharing space! We look forward to receiving the official notification!!!!
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