If you haven't been checking with us regularly because of the dearth of updates, please click back two entries before reading this one.
It started in class. I was really not feeling good at all. My cold is back with a vengeance, my throat was scratchy, and I had to cough every couple minutes, not to mention the pain in my navel. We dismissed for break at about 7:45 and as soon as I stood up it got worse. My belly button pain was really bad, and I still had a presentation to give on antecedent influences of Gestalt psychology and on Max Wertheimer, one of its three founders.
After break, there were just a few minutes to go before my turn to speak. I passed out my handout and took my place at the desk. I don't remember much about it at all. I'm sure I did horribly. I sat down and tried to pay attention, but I was hurting so bad. Suddenly there was a big lurch of pain. I got very hot, I heard a whooshing sound over the noise in the room, and everything started to go dark. I fought like crazy not to pass out, gulped from my ever-present water bottle, and took off my sweatshirt. That helped a little.
Soon after, Dr. C. told us to go home. She said it looked like she was losing us. She had no idea. Probably unwisely, I drove myself home. I couldn't keep from crying anymore, and when I got home, Paul asked if I wanted to go to the ER. I didn't. I asked him to call my mom. He did, and handed me the phone. Then he called the clinic to ask what we should do. Everybody seemed to think we should go in. I realized it's not just me that I'm making decisions for now. I've got someone else I need to consider. So I decided to just go in.
We picked up my mom and headed up. We were behind this truck that kept speeding up and slowing down. It was really frustrating because we just wanted to get there. Paul waited for a passing zone and went for it. That's when we saw the sheriff sitting by the side of the road. As soon as I saw him I panicked. Nobody believes "my wife's pregnant and in pain and I'm speeding to get to the hospital" anymore. The guy was a complete jerk. I would like to find him and show him the diagnosis and be like "See? SEEEE?" Anyway, I was like hysterically crying and coughing and gagging. Mom told me to open the door if I needed to throw up, and I was like "but he'll SHOOT ME!" He took seriously forever writing that thing.
So he came back up with the ticket and again offered to call us an ambulance like he was giving us one more chance to tell the truth or something.
Eventually, we got to the ER so we could wait an hour before being seen. At least they put us in a nice room and not a waiting room. The nurse was super nice. She listened to the baby's heartbeat and then let me listen too. She said this probably isn't bothering Bun at all. That was the only good part of the night. The doctor came in and made me move in all sorts of ways that made me cry again. He told me I have an umbilical hernia left over from infancy. The baby growing and me coughing tore it open again. He told us to see a surgeon today, and by the time we got home it was like 1:30 in the morning. Because of this cold, I slept until noonish today.
Paul called and got us an appointment for 4:00 today, and we waited quite a while again for the doctor to just say we can't operate until after the baby's born-- oh, and it's going to get a lot worse.
I'm not going to let it get in the way of this weekend. Our anniversary is this Sunday. I had almost forgotten in all the busy-ness with school and work and being pregnant. Mom, Dad, Scott, Mary, Audree, Paul and I are going to the Dells. I've been looking forward to this for a long time.