Am ill. Welcome to El House of Vomito. Stomach bugs. Me. Isaac. Noah.

I love twitter. I truly do. If I could marry it, or sleep with it, or cuddle it occasionally, I would.

I had a fully fledged post idea to do yesterday, it was gonna be wicked, with all kinds of pointless unfunny crap in it.

Both boys are ill. The amount of F.O.F. in this house is verging on ridiculous. Noah coughs all night. All. Freaking. Night. I wake up, on the hour, every hour, and hear him coughing. And what can I do? Shit all. Nada. Nothing. He's had cough medicines, inhalers, plug-in vapor thingies, vicks, rum, vodka, weed and whatever else I could think of.

Sweet Lord. Why do you test me so? Do you not feel it is enough to be a mother of two very young, lovely children, that you must add extra traumas to the situation? Is my body not wrecked enough for you that you must destroy it a little more? Do you enjoy watching me smack my head against a (any) wall (daily) in frustration?

Due Date: 04/21/2009
Week: 29+0 days
Month: 7
Trimester: 3
Fetus Age: 27 weeks
Time to Go: 76 days
Size: Average, with built in swimming pool

You see, GTT is actually a form of torture. GTT actually does not stand for Glucose Tolerance Test.

It stands for:

Get The pregnant lady to spew up anything we give her and make her retch for a good half hour after the Torture.

So no, we weren't successful this morning. I got about three quarters of the way through the drink, retching all the way, and finally threw some back up. Lovely. Which meant the test was immediately over. AFTER they had already jabbed me with the needle and taken blood and the rest.

If you've never had a GTT, you're required to fast for 14 hours beforehand (which is just as well I failed because I may have eaten 11½ hours earlier...). So pregnant lady, empty stomach. Let's just remember that.

They then take your blood, which I have no problem with. Needles do not phase me. What DID phase me, was the cup of warm, tropical flavoured Lucozade, which had the consistency of phlegm. THAT did not go down so well. I took a sip at first and immediately felt my stomach churn. I knew this would not go well.

So I took a humongous swig in the hope that I could just get it down faster. I started heaving and brought a tiny bit back up. Which, stupidly, I swallowed again straight away. Psyched up for the home stretch I took another large swig and DING DING DING!! JACKPOT!! Up it came.

Test over. So I go back in the morning to do it again! I can't wait.

However, the good news that came out of this morning was that the (LOVELY AWESOME FAB) midwives at the hospital don't think there's cause for concern with the whole polyhydramnios thing; they reckon my levels are in the normal range. They're speaking to the consultants to see if I need referral, but it's unlikely. And they're still convinced I'll get my home birth. BUT I do need to do the GTT again because of the potential link between the two.

I'm trying to understand most of this, and follow the lingo and jargon, and surprisingly, I'm still not worried at this stage. I'm not sure why, I don't know if I should be worried, but no, still not phased.

I would, however, like to tell you all about the fact that my son and I share EVERYTHING. Today whilst he was sat on my lap for a cuddle watching tv, my own case of excess F.O.F. caught me off guard. I dripped watery snot directly into his hair. Of course I wiped it out immediately. He didn't even notice.

See how loving, caring and sharing we are in our house?

Due Date: 04/21/2009
Week: 28+0 days
Month: 7
Trimester: 3
Fetus Age: 26 weeks
Heartbeat: 140 summat
Time to Go: 83 days
Size: Leaning Tower of Pisa
Time til 4D Scan: 6 days
Days til I hit 30: TWO. TWO days and I'm thirty. Uh, whoop.

We are inconclusive. Noah has been to the docs, had everything checked (including the mysterious rash that had appeared on his neck in the space of 3 hours), inside his ears are slightly red but not inflamed, chest and throat clear, still has a slight temperature and we have to keep an eye on the rash (which was almost gone by the time he went to bed, 2 hours later).

The most we can get? Viral infection. That classic answer when no one AT ALL knows what the hell is wrong. But you know, that's ok. People have offered up a million different answers to what is wrong, which is fair enough. But at the end of the day, I couldn't give a monkeys to what's wrong, I just want my little guy better.

It's been such a shitty run of illnesses for him, and I know everyone (worldwide) is doing every sick bug under the sun at the mo. But I just want him to catch a break; long enough for him to not deal with F.O.F. or non-stop coughing or mysterious rashes which come and go in the blink of an eye.

So now, we just keep the Calpol to hand, and always be ready with a large stash of cuddles and burpess and dummies).

In other news, my SPD is now so chronic, Physiotherapist #3 is BOOKING ME IN for weekly appointments now. I think it may have something to do with the fact that on Monday my hips were misaligned by about two inches. Also, one side of my pelvis at the front had shifted out of place by about an inch, maybe an inch and a half. And people think I'm shitting them when I say it hurts to do anything.

I'd gotten to the point where my crutches (yes, from my pregnancy with Noah, which I may have neglected to return) were pretty useless, and every movement left me with tears in my eyes. Not my scene.

So she did her magic manipulation (after marvelling about it with a student, which made me laugh, maybe cos I was proud to be such a fine example?) and mother of god yes it hurt while she did it, but I can walk faster than a snail now, which is helpful. I'm sad that Noah wants to be picked up, like any little boy would, and I can barely do it; this breaks my heart, but I'd rather I cry with pain than have him cry because his mom won't cuddle him, ya know? How's the kid to understand?

So fingers crossed, SPD won't necessarily get better, but hopefully we can keep it under better control. I'm thinking of having Phys. #3 move into our house.

I have to say, I'm REALLLLLLLLY looking forward to the 4d scan on Monday; I feel like T.O.O. has barely had any attention already, and that's why it spends more time than Noah did making sure it kicks the living crap out of my system. Have you ever been lying on your side, and been kicked so hard from the inside you actually roll over? It's very surreal. We won't be finding out the gender, but needless to say I will probably spend hours scanning the dvd afterwards for any clues that only an amateur would pick up on.

I'm NOT looking forward to the GTT on Tuesday, as the last thing I could do with is another "told you so" from the medical world (especially after how much I adore them already). But hey, they wanna do their tests which is fair enough. I will not say "told you so" if everything comes back normal. Also I will not be pissed off if everything goes pear shaped.*

Another thing I AM looking forward to is a trip down to the south coast at the start of Feb; I'm going to see a friend who I've never met in person. We've spoken many times, and I first got in touch with him by texting him pics of Noah to compare to his own newborn and offering some breastfeeding advice this time last year.

He has no newborn, and I'm hoping to sweet lord in heaven that he does not breastfeed his 2 twenty-something sons.**

I'm going down on my own, without Noah or D, and staying in a hotel on the coast; and I'm excited because it's going to be 2 days of just me. It sounds so selfish, and I know I'll feel a little bit guilty while I'm down there, but this will be the first real break from everything in what feels like an eternity. And it's a break I need, hopefully just to put my head back on the right way round for a little while. Maybe escape some of this endless flying poop.


*Both of these statements are of course blatant lies.
**I hasten to add I thought I was texting someone else, until he politely told me I'd got the wrong number. (EPIC FAIL).

Thanks to so many of you who asked about Noah and/or sent us your well wishes, I really, really appreciate it.

This morning Noah's temp was still up, and while round his grandparents he was rejecting most food and all fluids. He spent most of the day going in and out of sleep on his Grandparents laps, not doing much at all.

So. Not. Noah.

However, since he's been home he's perked up a little. We've had a Code Brown (that's my boy) which appeared to make room for a tiny bit of food and he's guzzled some water. He's gone to bed quietly, without his narcotic fix, still running a slight temp, but better than before.

Dr's tomorrow pm, hoping it's nothing serious.

Noah has a fever. This morning we took him swimming as usual. This is shortly after I said "God he feels hot doesn't he?". No shit, Sherlock. So we took him swimming. He was great as ever, doing every single task without batting an eyelid, and doing stuff that our instructor keeps saying only the toddlers in the advanced groups are doing.

I'm always so proud of him when we're swimming. I'm so proud of him anyways.

In the car, he fell asleep after only 2 minutes of the engine being on, and once home he slept for three and a half hours straight. He barely ate when he woke up, but drank like a fish. I don't normally panic over the food thing, I know he can be fussy sometimes, it's what babies do. That's ok.

But when 2 hours later, he still wasn't interested in food and still felt like a furnace, I was feeling pretty bad for him and for my own stupidity for ignoring his heat this morning. He spent the afternoon wobbling backwards and forwards between me and his dad, plopping himself on our laps only to stare blankly at the tv. He barely perked up, laughing only occasionally at the odd tickle or toy (or fart or burp, which I know is inappropriate but god he's so funny).

We took his temp like clumsy confused parents, and it was high. Like, 38°c high. The dumb batteries in the thermometer are dying so we haven't got an accurate reading, but the screen flashes red and is always above 38°c every time, at one point reading 38.9°c. I very nearly wet myself.

He's in bed now, having had the usual doses of Calpol. He's had some throughout the day, and there's been no change. I've checked him all over for rashes and whatever. I've spoken to my mum who's obviously given some good advice, and it's all pretty much what we're already doing. I know there's nothing else to do at this point apart from to keep the Calpol going and monitor his temp.

But it's always so much harder to remain calm when it's your own you know? That silent panic. It just ain't fun at all.

Have you all been waiting anxiously on the edge of your seats? Are you all totally wrapped up in my life and Noah's, wondering what the outcome was? Can you barely contain yourselves?

Ok maybe not, but I'll let you know what's going on anyway.

We have had 2, count them - TWO - nights of cough-less sleep. At this point, I would like to exclaim that Julie, is a freaking LEGEND. We've left it at just having the radiator turned down, as she advised, and have given up with everything else. Last night he was so quiet, I still couldn't sleep thinking he'd stopped breathing or something, I'd never heard it so quiet.

HUZZAH!!

I'm still not feeling too cocky or smug, as I know it's still early days. And of course, we now have another increase in F.O.F, which I had hoped was done and dusted. It would seem not, to the point where you reeeeeeally have to wipe it straight away, lest you should have your furniture coated in it.

Think Ghostbusters where that Slimer ghost plasters everything with "ectoplasm", aka, snot.

However, he is now in his cot, having coughed for all of 3 minutes (which I'll allow) and has been quiet since.

I'm also very pleased to note that Poopgate no longer seems to be an issue, and if I wasn't feeling so smug about that I would happily mail the rest of my Fibresure to Soapbox Diva. But I'm not that smug.

And since I'm reporting news, I'm overly pleased to announce that my crotch has officially fallen apart. The SPD is back with a vengeance, and I have sciatic pains in both hips and my right butt cheek. I can no longer sleep on my left for more than 20 minutes at a time (great for getting plenty of sleep HAH) and I walk like I've been kicked in the crotch. Which, I suspect, is exactly what SPD must be like.

You know what's really gross? Is to be walking around, carrying your 72lb child, and your bump, with a feeling of your pelvis and hips all having dislocated themselves from each other. It's a curious feeling, I don't think I like it very much. I kind of expect my leg to fall off or something; you remember those dolls as a kid where you could pull the leg off really easily, but it was a bitch to get it back on again?

..no?

...

Uh, ok.

*Moving swiftly on*

I've decided to dye my hair. I'm using Lush Henna in a strange attempt to "play it safe", in that I didn't want to use chemicals in my hair. So yeah, I went for Caca Rouge, the brightest one. My logic is that my hair is black and therefore colour will barely show up. I'm sat here with it gunked on my head, wrapped in cling film, a t-shirt and a towel.

The best part?

Me (to D): You know, wiping this stuff out of my ears looks like wiping my ass.

I'm so classy.

Due Date: 04/21/2009
Week: 26+1 day
Month: 7
Trimester: 2
Fetus Age: 24 weeks
Heartbeat: Given the movement, I would say yes.
Time to Go: 96
Size: A teeny, tiny, miniscule pea.
Time til 4D Scan: 18 days

D and I discussed at length what the hell could be causing Noah's cough. I had a brilliant email from a friend who's little girl, same age as Noah, was doing EXACTLY the same thing; barely any coughing in the day, shit loads at night, not even really waking up, cough medicines doing shit all etc, and she suggested something. So last night, I tried it. Turn down/off the radiator.

Was feeling pretty smug for the first hour or two. And then the coughing began. Again. For Christ's sake.

We've dusted, hoovered, changed sheets, got an ionizer, the works. There was no way this Bitch Ass cough was gonna get us now. Put him down for his nap today... aaaaaand he coughed so bad, I actually ran up the stairs (I haven't run anywhere for a good few months now, it's not physically possible - or so I thought), petrified he was going to choke to death. I scooped him up, wrapped him in his blanket, and for the first time in about 7 months, we slept for an hour on the bed. He barely coughed.

So tonight we tried again. Turned his radiator down again, changed the sheets again, calpol vapour thingy again, but this time, we put him with his head at the other end of the cot. Away from the wall, away from the radiator. We haven't heard a peep from him yet.

Now, I know you're all thinking "PHEW!" and quite possibly breathing a sigh of relief. That is, right up until I just nipped upstairs to check he was still alive (since he was being so quiet), only to find him in his original position. He'd turn himself around. And he still isn't coughing.

I don't know if it's possible, but I wonder if even in his sleep, he's still smug.

Took him to the docs today, told it could be a viral infection, he may have an ear infection, here's a prescription but don't "cash it in" yet. Ride the wave, it'll last about 4 weeks.

Due Date: 04/21/2009
Week: 25+6 days
Month: 7 (what happened to months 1-6?)
Trimester: 2
Fetus Age: 24 weeks
Heartbeat: A number.
Time to Go: 98. Oh. My. Freaking. God. That's gotta be so very wrong.
Size: A cheetah? No, wait, a LION.
Time til 4D Scan: 20 days

Noah is still coughing. He's doing that excess F.O.F. thing again, he's currently in bed and has been coughing for the last...2 hours-ish, on and off. He's had medicine, I've dusted his room, D hoovered it, he has a vapour thingie going, Vicks on his chest and he's still coughing. I feel bad now for not doing something sooner.

I have some options. Call NHS direct (who are utterly UTTELY shit) and ask for their advice. I don't favour this option. I could create a huge fuss and take him to hospital right now. I don't like this option either but it's the most appealing, oddly enough. Or I could be sensible option: keep an eye on him and book him a doc's appointment in the morning. I don't like this one either, but I know it's probably going to be the smartest thing to do.

The por kid is now hoarse with all the coughing, and I know I won't sleep tonight for listening to him hoping to god that he's ok. I feel a bit (like, SERIOUSLY) shit for not doing something weeks ago, when all this illness started, but I guess I hoped he would have been over it by now. And I keep saying the same thing, day after day.

He was really shit today, denying most food, not drinking/guzzling water like he usually does, and doing that "I just wanna cuddle on your lap in front of the tv" thing because he's too exhausted and crappy to play. I feel even MORE shit because I'm so tired and have lost my rag so many times today. D is ill too (though I'm not sure with what...maybe some kind of stomach bug, from eating out of date yoghurt. I'm a miserable bitch, I have little/no sympathy) so I'm even more crotchety.

I would just like to point out that my reasons for being so crotchety with people who are ill at the moment is because I FEEL LIKE SHIT TOO DAMMIT but ya know, I try to keep plugging on. And I'd like my medal now please.

Which leads me on to wondering if there's something else I should finally sort out. I have to confess I have seriously contemplated going back on anti-depressants once T.O.O. is born. I'm hoping to god this madness with me is just the insane run of ridiculous preggo hormones. And that within minutes of T.O.O. being born, I'll be the happiest, most relatively normal person alive. (There really is nothing wrong with wishful thinking. I do, however, appreciate that sometimes there's a line of "realism" to be drawn. Doesn't mean I'll adhere to it.)

Flipping from "Sweetness & Light" to "Crazed Out Psycho Bitch Hormone Queen" gets to be pretty dull after a while. I can see how some lovely ladies thrive on it, but I'm thinking I'm not a fan, ya know?

Unfortunately, my last experience with anti-d's left me gaining about 3 stone in weight, vaguely being able to remember only 1-3 days in any week, and a short (but VERY vivid) stint in a mental care home. I'm not sure what put me off that place; maybe it was the bars on the windows..maybe it was the cameras everywhere...perhaps it was being searched daily for sharp and dangerous objects...it could well have been the other residents who liked to tell me some, uh, very uncomfortable things.

I'm hoping you can sense my reluctance.

Should I do the "wait and see" or "get my butt in gear"? I hate making decisions like these, especially when I often spend so much time wondering what the outcome had I chosen differently. *tsk*

It's every where. Ev-er-y fricking where. Noah's face leaks constantly, and I swear, I'm too scared to touch half the burpees lying around because I know they're plastered in huge boogers and greenies and other disgustingly gross things.

Don't get me wrong, I'm obviously very sad that he's poorly, especially as he doesn't sleep at night either because he spends most of his time coughing through it. That frustrates me so much I guess because I'm helpless; it's kinda difficult to teach your kid to cough out even more F.O.F. to help clear his throat, ya know?

The best comes when you try to wipe his face, which he obviously depises, and turns his face at the worst possible moment. This usual results in a nice streak of F.O.F. across a cheek, in his ear, and if he's particularly pissy, through his hair too.

There have been too many times when I've commented on the amount of food in Noah's hair, gone to pick it out and then realised, all too late, what it really is. Mmmmmm...did you request crusty or gloopy today ma'am?

So yes, he's still very sick, and letting us all know about it. His tantrums are crazy when he has them, and I guess because he's out of sorts, they seem to be coming thick and fast, quite often out of the blue. He's also become especially good at being incredibly defiant (NO idea where he gets that from) and then watching you to see what the hell you're gonna do about it.

Noah: (hey bitch, watch me steal a bauble from your tree, NYAH!)

Me: Noah, no touch.

N: (Yeah I hear ya, I see ya...oh hey look moms! Bauble! In mah hand! YEAH!)

Me: Noah, NO TOUCH.

N: (And looky! See how I got two baubles and now I'mma kick a third one off? Watch me now!)

Me: NOAH!

N: (Hey, what? Ya say summat? ...might even pull this punk-ass tree over now...)

And so it goes on. I'm operating zero tolerance in the desperate hope that I do not have a child that grows up into an evil delinquent that leaves turds in the plant pots and steals anything from me on a regular basis (uh, I should add I'm watching Brat Camp at the minute...it's uh, reassuring?)

It's harder I think because I want to help him, to give him cuddles and say "all better, mommy loves you", and all he wants to do is punch his way off my lap and go find his dad/attack the tree/throw a fit/snot everywhere. It's kinda like he turned into a teenager when I wasn't looking, which I find quite scary given he's not even one yet (OMG he is ONE next WEEK people. NEXT. FREAKING. WEEK.)

I admit - I miss my baby, but I hope he sure as hell feels better soon. It's hard to so desperately want to help someone when there are so many misunderstandings in the way. I'm also running out of burpees and I'm worried we're going to drown in the gunk.