It's Friday. My car has been sat on my drive since Sunday with a flat tyre and knackered wheel. A days worth of phone calls and THREE AA men later, the car has FINALLY gone to Peugeot (there's a whole new story to fill you in on), dropped off by AA at the AIRPORT to get a hire car...
Avis won't accept my details. I'm stuck at the airport, no money, no transport, no help.
I screamed, I shouted, I cried, (yes right there in the Airport), I called D and asked him to rescue me. Even though he was in the middle of putting Noah to bed.
He came, with a credit card, sorted me out a car, dropped me off at Avis to pick up the car.
I may never, in all my days, have driven such a shitty little car. A Citroen C3. Which I want to burn.
I'm half an hour late for my rehearsal. I haven't eaten. I left the house at 5:30. I got back to pick up my cello at 8:00. A week, surely, beyond belief.
The AA deserve to be sent to the very pits of hell for all eternity, where they will be made to clean Satan's bollocks with their BARE TONGUES.
Avis won't accept my details. I'm stuck at the airport, no money, no transport, no help.
I screamed, I shouted, I cried, (yes right there in the Airport), I called D and asked him to rescue me. Even though he was in the middle of putting Noah to bed.
He came, with a credit card, sorted me out a car, dropped me off at Avis to pick up the car.
I may never, in all my days, have driven such a shitty little car. A Citroen C3. Which I want to burn.
I'm half an hour late for my rehearsal. I haven't eaten. I left the house at 5:30. I got back to pick up my cello at 8:00. A week, surely, beyond belief.
The AA deserve to be sent to the very pits of hell for all eternity, where they will be made to clean Satan's bollocks with their BARE TONGUES.
2 nights/3 days in hospital, suspected meningitis (do you know how scary it is when they start bandying that word around??), a chronic migraine, an IV, morphine, cocodemol, codeine, paracetemol, no sleep and some very, very odd people.
Lord above.
Thankfully, above all else, The Other One is ok; the midwives came down from the maternity ward and dopplered in. Heart rate found, thank GOD.
Monday morning, felt shit, but nothing worse than I had been since last week. I realised something was up when Monday night came, I had no idea what time/day it was and I screamed in pain every time the light was turned on, I focus on anything or speak without wanting to throw up. Hoorahh!! Good times, oh yes.
Sometime in the night (maybe around 10:30pm?) Dave finally called NHS direct who sent round paramedics, who called an ambulance, who took me to hospital. My faaaaaaaavourite place, hospital (at this point I kept thinking about the Big Shiny Red Button). They pumped me full of all kinds of drugs, none of which worked. The best moment?
(Cos there always is one)
When Nurse #1 tried to feed me two Cocodemol - tablets the size and shape of UFOs - and I threw them up before I even had a chance to sit back. She watched me spew, then asked if I'd thrown up the tablets. Then 25 minutes later, asked D if he could check the plastic bag of spuke to find the tablets. I remember half laughing behind blinding pain.
I don't remember much of Monday night in A&E*; I vaguely remember losing feeling in my hands and feet to morphine (that was AWESOME, I'd do that again), and listening to some woman in the next cubicle spuke. Again. And then again. And then some more. And then for the next 6 hours. I think, I think, she may have been ill.
So I didn't sleep Monday night, and D eventually got kicked out 2:30 am.
I remember NOTHING from Tuesday (yesterday), apart from someone constantly asking me my date of birth, and someone else asking about rashes and meningitis. I know I repeatedly asked whether all of the drugs they were forcing down me were actually safe for the baby, and moaned in disbelief when one nurse/doctor/medically incompetant person said they weren't sure and "Would I like her to check first?"
(No, you stupid whore, just give me the motherpuppy drugs which don't even frigging work anyway, and poison both myself and my unborn child. Kthnxbai.)
I do, however, remember Tuesday night. I remember it because I was quietly moaning to try to get to sleep, but couldn't because some guy in the corner kept shouting for the nurses, saying he wanted to "pass water". And every time the nurses told him, "you have a tube in your bladder, you don't have to get up"
Annoying man: "So I don't have to get up?"
Nurse #24,735: "No, because you've got a tube in your bladder."
AM: "So I can pass water?"
Nurse #68,942: "Yes, just relax and stop shouting because there are other people trying to sleep."
AM: "Ok I'm sorry, I'm very sorry."
(30 seconds silence)
...
AM: "Nurse! NURSE!! NURRRRRRSE! IS ANYONE THERE?? CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?"
Repeat as above. For 3 hours.
Seriously, Big Red Button.
But I'm home now as of this afternoon (and not a moment too soon) to see my beautiful boy who I cannot believe how much I missed. I kept hoping one of the grandparents might just bring him along even though I knew he wasn't allowed.
When I got home he grinned, launched himself at me then grabbed my head and gummed my face. Then while changing him tonight he refused to be put down on his changing table, preferring to cling round my neck and hang on with his legs. Have you ever tried to change a child while they adhere themselves to your torso? It's just the best.
Not sure how I feel about the 4 teeth that have made an appearance at the top, though. Two broken the gum, two bulging the gum. My baby is growing up.
*D has renamed "Accident & Emergency" to "Accident & Eventually"
Lord above.
Thankfully, above all else, The Other One is ok; the midwives came down from the maternity ward and dopplered in. Heart rate found, thank GOD.
Monday morning, felt shit, but nothing worse than I had been since last week. I realised something was up when Monday night came, I had no idea what time/day it was and I screamed in pain every time the light was turned on, I focus on anything or speak without wanting to throw up. Hoorahh!! Good times, oh yes.
Sometime in the night (maybe around 10:30pm?) Dave finally called NHS direct who sent round paramedics, who called an ambulance, who took me to hospital. My faaaaaaaavourite place, hospital (at this point I kept thinking about the Big Shiny Red Button). They pumped me full of all kinds of drugs, none of which worked. The best moment?
(Cos there always is one)
When Nurse #1 tried to feed me two Cocodemol - tablets the size and shape of UFOs - and I threw them up before I even had a chance to sit back. She watched me spew, then asked if I'd thrown up the tablets. Then 25 minutes later, asked D if he could check the plastic bag of spuke to find the tablets. I remember half laughing behind blinding pain.
I don't remember much of Monday night in A&E*; I vaguely remember losing feeling in my hands and feet to morphine (that was AWESOME, I'd do that again), and listening to some woman in the next cubicle spuke. Again. And then again. And then some more. And then for the next 6 hours. I think, I think, she may have been ill.
So I didn't sleep Monday night, and D eventually got kicked out 2:30 am.
I remember NOTHING from Tuesday (yesterday), apart from someone constantly asking me my date of birth, and someone else asking about rashes and meningitis. I know I repeatedly asked whether all of the drugs they were forcing down me were actually safe for the baby, and moaned in disbelief when one nurse/doctor/medically incompetant person said they weren't sure and "Would I like her to check first?"
(No, you stupid whore, just give me the motherpuppy drugs which don't even frigging work anyway, and poison both myself and my unborn child. Kthnxbai.)
I do, however, remember Tuesday night. I remember it because I was quietly moaning to try to get to sleep, but couldn't because some guy in the corner kept shouting for the nurses, saying he wanted to "pass water". And every time the nurses told him, "you have a tube in your bladder, you don't have to get up"
Annoying man: "So I don't have to get up?"
Nurse #24,735: "No, because you've got a tube in your bladder."
AM: "So I can pass water?"
Nurse #68,942: "Yes, just relax and stop shouting because there are other people trying to sleep."
AM: "Ok I'm sorry, I'm very sorry."
(30 seconds silence)
...
AM: "Nurse! NURSE!! NURRRRRRSE! IS ANYONE THERE?? CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?"
Repeat as above. For 3 hours.
Seriously, Big Red Button.
But I'm home now as of this afternoon (and not a moment too soon) to see my beautiful boy who I cannot believe how much I missed. I kept hoping one of the grandparents might just bring him along even though I knew he wasn't allowed.
When I got home he grinned, launched himself at me then grabbed my head and gummed my face. Then while changing him tonight he refused to be put down on his changing table, preferring to cling round my neck and hang on with his legs. Have you ever tried to change a child while they adhere themselves to your torso? It's just the best.
Not sure how I feel about the 4 teeth that have made an appearance at the top, though. Two broken the gum, two bulging the gum. My baby is growing up.
*D has renamed "Accident & Emergency" to "Accident & Eventually"
That is, the Land of the Dead. Do you know how much it sucks to be horribly ill with a cold, look after a man-child with a cold but chooses not to rest, AND a husband with a viral chest infection?
Oh yeh, and be pregnant too???
Due Date: 04/21/2009
Week: 12+5 days
Month: 3
Trimester: 2
Fetus Age: 11 weeks
Heartbeat: 156 bpm
Time To Go: 194 days (isn't that like, a few years?)
Size: A large plum
Mother of God. These last two weeks have not been fun. We went to visit some of D's relatives in Norfolk and on the drive back, Noah repeatedly barfed up all his milk, right there in his car seat. I had never seen anything like it, he was so ill.
Oddly enough, you would never have known it for the fact that he was still running around like a lunatic when he got home, and pretty much has done since. He's only just back on full fat formula (rather than the diluted crap and/or plain warm water we wre having to give him).
D has actually been off work and is now on steroids and an inhaler - he is verrrrrrrrrry ill. I confess I bollocked him for not taking proper care of himself or realising he was ill; he still tried to go to work 'cos the meeting was too important. He soon realised how ill he was when he fell asleep in the meeting then hit a car driving home...
I guess I got so pissed because I wish he would look after himself, just because I want him to see his kids grow up and stuff. Oh yeh, and because I'd like to be married for a good few more years yet. I felt bad for having a go, but I was just so frustrated.
I, thank god, am doing much better. I'm getting over my cold, and I'm finally out of the Wanna-Vom-Can't-Vom 1st trimester phase, and I eat. Unfortunately, of course I now seem to eat like a horse, and my addictions are sweets (Jolly Ranchers and Jelly Tots), chocolate (has to be Galaxy Minstrels, nothing else works) and Crunchy Cheetos. Embarassingly enough, I ordered some on eBay because I can't get them over here. When I say I ordered some...
...I mean, a box of 50 packets. What can I say? The kid likes fake cheesy stuff!! I'm still thankful for the weight loss at this stage, which somehow, is still happening. 8-ish weeks of not wanting to eat. AWESOME!!
Don't judge me.
I'm now 24lbs down from when Noah was born, 14lbs shed in the last month. Which, therefore, according to the relativity of the hydratic neurosymetic allegation of tri-quatra syndicate and movement*, means I can eat all the Cheetos I like. Washed down with Galaxy Minstrels. And a Jolly Rancher**.
Interestingly enough, I have no idea why many of my cravings are USA based. I've been scouring some websites that sell USA food stuffs here, and my brain practically explodes with the delightful possibilities.
I dunno.
* You know this totally exists, right?
** OMGZZ I totally found Jolly Rancher Soda!!1!!!1!! Will the goodness never end?
Oh yeh, and be pregnant too???
Due Date: 04/21/2009
Week: 12+5 days
Month: 3
Trimester: 2
Fetus Age: 11 weeks
Heartbeat: 156 bpm
Time To Go: 194 days (isn't that like, a few years?)
Size: A large plum
Mother of God. These last two weeks have not been fun. We went to visit some of D's relatives in Norfolk and on the drive back, Noah repeatedly barfed up all his milk, right there in his car seat. I had never seen anything like it, he was so ill.
Oddly enough, you would never have known it for the fact that he was still running around like a lunatic when he got home, and pretty much has done since. He's only just back on full fat formula (rather than the diluted crap and/or plain warm water we wre having to give him).
D has actually been off work and is now on steroids and an inhaler - he is verrrrrrrrrry ill. I confess I bollocked him for not taking proper care of himself or realising he was ill; he still tried to go to work 'cos the meeting was too important. He soon realised how ill he was when he fell asleep in the meeting then hit a car driving home...
I guess I got so pissed because I wish he would look after himself, just because I want him to see his kids grow up and stuff. Oh yeh, and because I'd like to be married for a good few more years yet. I felt bad for having a go, but I was just so frustrated.
I, thank god, am doing much better. I'm getting over my cold, and I'm finally out of the Wanna-Vom-Can't-Vom 1st trimester phase, and I eat. Unfortunately, of course I now seem to eat like a horse, and my addictions are sweets (Jolly Ranchers and Jelly Tots), chocolate (has to be Galaxy Minstrels, nothing else works) and Crunchy Cheetos. Embarassingly enough, I ordered some on eBay because I can't get them over here. When I say I ordered some...
...I mean, a box of 50 packets. What can I say? The kid likes fake cheesy stuff!! I'm still thankful for the weight loss at this stage, which somehow, is still happening. 8-ish weeks of not wanting to eat. AWESOME!!
Don't judge me.
I'm now 24lbs down from when Noah was born, 14lbs shed in the last month. Which, therefore, according to the relativity of the hydratic neurosymetic allegation of tri-quatra syndicate and movement*, means I can eat all the Cheetos I like. Washed down with Galaxy Minstrels. And a Jolly Rancher**.
Interestingly enough, I have no idea why many of my cravings are USA based. I've been scouring some websites that sell USA food stuffs here, and my brain practically explodes with the delightful possibilities.
I dunno.
* You know this totally exists, right?
** OMGZZ I totally found Jolly Rancher Soda!!1!!!1!! Will the goodness never end?
Due Date: 04/21/2009
Week: 12+0 days
Month: 3
Trimester: 2
Fetus Age: 10 weeks
Heartbeat: 157 bpm
Time To Go: 194 days (A short eternity)
Scan last week showed everything to be hunky-dory, with The Other One bouncing around insanely on the screen, moreso than Noah did. Nope, nope, I'm not scared. Another child livelier than Noah? Nope, not possible.
Jesus, kid isn't even born yet and I already don't have time for it. Or maybe I'm that freaking tired. Or it's 00:10 at night and I know I should've been in bed maybe 3 hours ago.
Happy Second Trimester-ish! (Hehe, there's another argument to gnaw over.)
Week: 12+0 days
Month: 3
Trimester: 2
Fetus Age: 10 weeks
Heartbeat: 157 bpm
Time To Go: 194 days (A short eternity)
Scan last week showed everything to be hunky-dory, with The Other One bouncing around insanely on the screen, moreso than Noah did. Nope, nope, I'm not scared. Another child livelier than Noah? Nope, not possible.
Jesus, kid isn't even born yet and I already don't have time for it. Or maybe I'm that freaking tired. Or it's 00:10 at night and I know I should've been in bed maybe 3 hours ago.
Happy Second Trimester-ish! (Hehe, there's another argument to gnaw over.)
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