Saturday. Just over two weeks until my due date.
I got up that morning feeling like a truck had run over me. I had a splitting headache. I was nauseous. And my entire abdomen was cramping in wave after excruciating wave. Surely this couldn't be labor, could it? It just didn't feel right. Then Mr. P, who had been out all night at a job site, came home. Feeling the exact same way.
Aha! Stomach flu.
I knew I should touch base with my midwife. She was at the hospital with another client and wanted me to come in just to get checked out, so we headed into Manhattan. Along the way we stopped for some orange juice, because I hadn't eaten that day and I'd heard horror stories about being urged into giving birth early because of blood counts that could have been fixed with a little food. I started drinking the juice just after we came out of the Lincoln Tunnel and by the time we pulled up to the hospital at 58th & 10th, I was barfing into a plastic bag.
Definitely the stomach flu.
TRIP COUNT: 3
Up in the maternity triage, the baby and all my vitals checked out fine, thank goodness. So they simply hooked me up to an IV for a couple of hours to make sure I didn't get dehydrated. Boy, IVs can do wonders! I felt significantly better by the time we left there. We stocked up on Gatorade and ginger ale and spent the rest of the weekend recovering.
But don't forget about poor Mr. P. He was suffering, too, and had been awake all night. But since he wasn't pregnant ... no IV for you, sir! He spent the two hours feeling like total hell and trying to sleep on the cold, hard floor next to my bed in the tiny, tiny triage bay. The next day I was all perky and raring to go, while he still wanted to curl into a ball and die.
Moral of the story? It's simple. Don't get the stomach flu two weeks before your due date. And don't get the stomach flu two weeks before your wife's due date. Neither of us recommend it.
Aha! Stomach flu.
I knew I should touch base with my midwife. She was at the hospital with another client and wanted me to come in just to get checked out, so we headed into Manhattan. Along the way we stopped for some orange juice, because I hadn't eaten that day and I'd heard horror stories about being urged into giving birth early because of blood counts that could have been fixed with a little food. I started drinking the juice just after we came out of the Lincoln Tunnel and by the time we pulled up to the hospital at 58th & 10th, I was barfing into a plastic bag.
Definitely the stomach flu.
TRIP COUNT: 3
Up in the maternity triage, the baby and all my vitals checked out fine, thank goodness. So they simply hooked me up to an IV for a couple of hours to make sure I didn't get dehydrated. Boy, IVs can do wonders! I felt significantly better by the time we left there. We stocked up on Gatorade and ginger ale and spent the rest of the weekend recovering.
But don't forget about poor Mr. P. He was suffering, too, and had been awake all night. But since he wasn't pregnant ... no IV for you, sir! He spent the two hours feeling like total hell and trying to sleep on the cold, hard floor next to my bed in the tiny, tiny triage bay. The next day I was all perky and raring to go, while he still wanted to curl into a ball and die.
Moral of the story? It's simple. Don't get the stomach flu two weeks before your due date. And don't get the stomach flu two weeks before your wife's due date. Neither of us recommend it.
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