Death, not even warmed over

Last Wednesday when I proudly announced to Lorso that I had already written my posts for the rest of the week, we both remarked how nice it would be for me to have a little break.  Foolishly I ignored the crazy part of my brain that was all “Yes, except that I have never accomplished this before and therefore this must be an OMINOUS AND FOREBODING SIGN OF BAD BAD THINGS TO COME.” I should really start listening to that crazy of my brain part more often.  Like maybe for lottery number suggestions.

Because holy moly did I get it Wednesday night.  I am a better friend to you, Internet, than to go into any detail whatsoever about the horrific replay of those wee hours, but let me just tell you that there is a really, really good reason that they don’t get very specific in the whole “in sickness” part of the marriage vows, because if what Lorso had to do for me that night had been in any way alluded to before the “I do” part of the ceremony, the horror would have been too great for even a man such as he to overcome.  And we all know what a great man he is.

Well, he’s even greater than that now.  Because even after the Night of Unmentionable Horrors, he slogged around the bathroom on hands and knees, scrubbing with bleach and disinfecting that place within an inch of its life.  And then he took over all family responsibility while I languished miserably on the couch.  He grocery shopped.  He laundered.  He arranged school transportation for Bug.  He brought me Gatorade. Basically, he bellied up to the table, saw that “In sickness” and raised it about a thousand bucks.   WHAT UP, VOWS.

The good news is that I definitely feel better, and the baby is fine, despite the dehydration-induced contractions I had all day Thursday (I found out it’s possible to have Braxton-Hicks contractions, regular contractions, AND nausea all at the same time! The More You Know!).  However, there was definitely a moment of realization once I was upright and eating normally again that while I was definitely back to my old self, my old self was still 243 WEEKS PREGNANT.  So it was like going from a personal Homeland discomfort level of CODE RED to maybe Code Orange, instead of all the way back down to Code Pass the Margaritas.

Still, it’s an improvement.  And my body has been adequately reprimanded that the next time that CODE RED button is pushed, there better be a baby on her way out the chute, because the administration has had it with all other shenanigans and tomfoolery.

P.S. Body, it is perfectly acceptable to push the CODE RED the very second this baby is 37 weeks.  FYI.

4 comments

1 Leigh Ann { 09.23.08 at 12:05 pm }

been there, done that. but holy cow, not when i was pregnant! i can’t even imagine! did you have a bug or was it food poison? yeah, that’s when you know your spouse REALLY loves you. it like “wow honey, you really stepped up to the plate. thanks so much for taking care of everything. but, it’s alright if we NEVER speak of that night again!” glad to hear you are feeling better!

2 Rachel D { 09.23.08 at 2:23 pm }

Glad to hear you are feeling better because that does NOT sound fun. Two thumbs up for Lorso!

3 racher { 09.23.08 at 3:47 pm }

Leigh Ann – It was a stomach virus. Two guesses where I got it, first one doesn’t count.

4 Allen { 09.23.08 at 6:17 pm }

fuckin toddlers…

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