Thursday, October 7, 2010

Last night did not go well.

I thought for sure it'd be a bit emotional going to bed alone, but, as the situation happened, I barely got any sleep at all.

Toward the later evening, I started feeling very nauseous. I didn't want to eat anything, but knew my stomach might need to be settled. So, I ate something.

Next thing I knew, my stomach was in knots. Like, giant knots. The kind that have you sure you're dying from the inside out. And, to be clear, I can handle pain. This was not so cool.

Thank God things didn't get kicked up a notch until Jake was in bed. (Really not trying to sound dramatic here...) But, as I writhed in pain on the couch, I felt like something was going to come up so I run to the kitchen and just kind of lean on the edge of the counter. But, since I feel too weak to continue standing, I pull the loaf of bread out of the 'fridge, and lay in the fetal position on the floor next to the trash can. That's the only position that didn't make me stomach feel like exploding.

I always cry when I throw up. I have no idea why. I don't think it's because I hate throwing up that much, because who likes it? Anyway, I started throwing up, and I was soo happy. It relieved a lot of pressure on my belly.

Vom, or no vom, I still felt like shit.

I text Cristal, around midnight, asking if she'd come over in the morning if I needed her to. That took a lot for me to do. She has 3 kids, and a husband who's about to deploy. It's the last thing I'd want to disrupt their schedule. She said "of course", and I went back to laying on the floor, praying that this doesn't spill into today.

So, after exorcist-expelling anything that came close to my system, I felt decent enough that maybe sleep would help.

I was wrong.

At 2 this morning, I had to run into the bathroom. Did my business. Slept on the floor a little. Good times.

I was about due, though, right? I mean, I haven't been sick since Jake was born. Scratch that. I haven't been sick since before we conceived Jake. (on a side note, I'd give my left arm for a diet sprite to show up on my doorstep). Guess it was time to find out that mamahood doesn't have sick days.

I really want to throw a pity party. Like, really. I want to cry about how I have laundry to do, a kid to pay attention to, that I have to clean up my own vom (because throwing up is never a clean process), that it still smelled gross in the kitchen this morning. But, it's really not my style. Even though thinking like that would probably score me some getting babied time, I just have to buck up.

Such is life. And, I want nothing more than to make hubby proud that I'm a warrior. Aren't we, ladies? I'm choosing to look at the aforementioned list as a challenge, something that needs to be conquered.

I want to ask your tips for serious stomach upset, but blogger is a douche, so I'll get, like, 1 out of 4 comments. But, anyway, I'm sipping on a diet coke right now (which reminds me, given my present state, I should enter a burping contest), have a glass of water nearby, the loaf of bread is being eaten teeny, tiny morsels at a tiime. That's about all I can do right?

Thank you, Jesus, that Jake is almost weaned. I was worried that during his morning feeding, I'd have to gather my projectile abilities so as to not catch Jake in a crossfire.

Jake and I were supposed to go out today. Should we? Ya know how, sometimes, you really just need to get up and do normal stuff to feel well again? Well, we were supposed to do a spot of shopping today, perhaps we should still? My stomach is knotting a bit, not nearly as bad as last night....

I don't know...

I'd really hate to blow chunks in public.

OK, let's go ahead and address it. Although, I'm not 100% sure I'm not pregnant, Jake's tummy is being funky, too. He's exploding from the ass. So, either we ate something that hates us, or the boy is really in tune with his mama---which is not a stretch.

Oh yah, I forgot to mention. When Gary was here we saw The Social Network. It made me want to cancel my Facebook account.

Also, I know I've used a bit of "language" in the past few posts. Sorry about that. Just felt good to say, ya know? I guess the only way I could get back at deployment was to drop an eff bomb. But, I'm a little wishing I hadn't...

Wait, WHATEVER. I'm sick and can drop them if I want, right?! Crap...I still don't like to.

1 comment:

Maytina said...

Yuck!! It's so true that being a mama means no sick days, but as they get older they can hold your hair back and bring you water! What? Other people don't get their kids to help? ;)

Here's hoping the worst of it has passed. I bet it's your body rebelling against Gary leaving!