I’m sure I’ve had worse days. I know I’ve had worse days. It’s just hard to remember in the middle of a truly, truly crap day.
Mistake #1: Stayed up too late the night before. Past 2 AM. Not a big deal when I’m not pregnant. Stupid when I am. I have too much to do and too much to stress about to get any kind of sleep. When I’m maxed out and overwhelmed, the quiet of the house at night is far too tempting. I took full advantage last night, watching Netflix and sorting and organizing to my heart’s content. I was therefore far too tired to get the kids up and to the bus stop by 7:20 leaving my husband to do the morning routine. I did, however, get up to see my boys off on their 3rd day of school this year… then I re-crashed.
Mistake #2: Letting hubby walk to school. The sweet man wanted to let me rest but I needed to get up anyway so I told him I’d get up and take him to school. He insisted on walking and out the door he went.
Five minutes later he was back in the house. “BRITT!” It was Allen’s distressed voice — used infrequently enough that it got my attention.And if that wasn’t enough, “Get up! I need you to take me to the hospital! The neighbors’ dog just bit me!” This was followed by yelps of pain and lots of freezer fumbling.
Oh, that hand was ugly. Swollen and bleeding everywhere. And my husband was all hyped up on adrenaline and acting crazy weird. This doesn’t work for me. I’m the crazy one. He’s my rock. I a little bit go to pieces when he does.
Mistake #3: In the throws of 3rd trimester morning sickness I have to eat within minutes of gaining consciousness. Or I get sick. Really sick. Instead of eating, I drove my husband to the hospital. Adrenaline carried me all the way there, so the sick part didn’t hit until the way home.
I threw a few bites of oatmeal down at home before dressing Jack and carting him off to his 2nd day of pre-k. (Cute little preschooler!!!)
Mistake #4: Called the kids school and told them I’d be running late to volunteer. (Sooo should have just cancelled!) Hungry, tired and shaky I drove back to the ER to catch up with Allen. Hed been washed up and x-rayed before I walked in and the doctor followed right behind me to stitch him up. Apparently Al was very lucky. The bite was quite deep, almost through his hand but just missed hitting anything important. “It was almost a surgical strike, ” the doctor explained pointing out where the tooth had gone through right between two tendons. Thank you! Some good news. And it was welcome.
The doctor put in one stitch to hold things together but said they have to leave bite wounds open since they like to become infected and abscess if closed. As it is Al has to be on two different antibiotics to keep the risk of infection down and he’ll just have to keep the wound rinsed out all day. The major problem here: he works with a nursing home full of infected people. MRSA is part of everyday life. He can’t work. Doctor’s orders. His boss didn’t take it well.
Mistake #5: Took Allen to class. It was the first day of his anatomy lab as well as a couple of other classes and he didn’t want to miss them. With him still riding high on adrenaline and the pain meds they pumped into him at the hospital along with the antibiotics I warned him that he was going to crash and to pass out at school. He was confident he’d be okay.
Mistake #6: Hungrier, tireder, and shakier, I booked it to the kids’ school. I parked, ran (on a 116 degree day) to the office to sign in and then ran to Chris’s class. Bad idea. I was sweaty and gross before I got there and it wasn’t too terribly long until I was breaking into weird pregnant, low blood sugar, too hot, not-terribly-hydrated sweats in front of the kids. I fanned myself with a book, did my time as well as I could and then booked it back out of there to pick up Jack from preschool… late.
Mistake #7: Wal-Mart. I had promised William lasagna for days and he was gonna get it! I just needed to get it into the crockpot (yes, crockpot lasagna) before 2 and I was cutting it close. Walking through Wal-Mart a funny thing happened. I grabbed Jack a cookie in the bakery, headed back to the dairy section and suddenly it felt like my brain dropped out of my head. Then I felt sideways and clammy and weird. Then the world snapped back together. A Wal-Mart employee was standing in front of me looking very concerned. “Are you okay.” Of course I was, I explained. “Are you sure? Do you need to sit down.” I did not. I got out of there as fast as possible, loaded the kid and the groceries into the car and my eyes locked on the McD’s across the street. Yes, I was that hungry.
Mistake #8: McDonald’s. The line was inordinately long but when I once I had that sandwich in my hand nothing else mattered. I tore into it… chewed… and then gagged. Two bites later I tossed the burger back in the bag. Not happening. And I gagged the whole way home.
That’s okay, I decided. I’d make something more appetizing once I had dinner in the crockpot. Two steps into my crockpot dumping, my chest heaving with impending breakdown, eyes teary, arms shaky and nerves shot I got the call I knew I’d get. “Britt,” It was Allen. I need you to come get me.” His voice was wobbly. “I’m not good. I keep breaking into cold sweats, I feel all fevery and I’m in so much pain! I need to lay down.” I yelled at him. I feel really bad about that. But I picked him up anyway.
It was actually easier to get the lasagna finished just with him in the house. I love my husband. I love when he’s home.
Mistake #9: Got too comfy. Started to recover and then almost forgot to pick the kids up from the bus. Got them. Was cranky and short with them all night. Bad, bad mommy. After dinner things started to turn around. I was feeling better, Allen was all doped up again, the kids had simmered down a bit. We were rolling along. I ran to Wal-Mart. Settled on the couch next to my husband. Got the call.
A friend had overheard my husband’s boss at work talking about him and what a wuss he is for not coming in to work just because of a dog bite. She didn’t plan to schedule him for any more work for the time being. Yeah, she did the same thing after Al’s dad died. He lost one of his regular shifts and didn’t get anymore on call work for a while. Awesome. Man, that woman sure knows how to turn a bad day tragic. I cried. The rest of the night. My husband reminded me I’m pregnant and crazy and that we’d get through this. I just don’t know why we have to. Every time something bad happens it shouldn’t affect our livliehood. Right?
Don’t worry, I washed all the pain away with a couple massive bowls off ice cream, smothered in chocolate sauce and whipped cream. That won’t hurt ’til tomorrow.
Worse things have happened. And to the outside, non-pregnant, non-previously-emotionally-wrecked observer my day may not seem as bad as it felt. That’s okay. Please just keep it to yourself. I thank you in advance.
UPDATE: And the saga continues. This is the hand this morning before it got uglier and the nausea and vomiting started.