Throughout this pregnancy the Home Invader has brought home every disgusting germ you can imagine, and I have caught nearly all of them from her. The giant cesspit that is daycare is losing it’s shine towards the final stages of this pregnancy. We’ve had colds, coughs, hand foot and mouth and conjunctivitis to name but a few. “It’s normal” everyone says, “It gets better” everyone says, “Try a probiotic” everyone says. I want to cause damage to these people.
There have been days where she has woken up a bit under the weather on a daycare day and I have fed her breakfast and a cocktail of drugs to mask the symptoms. Does that make me a bad mother? Hell no, you do what you have to do to survive, and I have to work! You cross your fingers that they don’t get sent home with a temp and usually they bounce back really fast. I’d never send her if she was acting really sick, but if you kept them home at every sign of a snotty nose then you’d never get anything done at all.
Looking after sick kids is the worst. When you are sick yourself it’s even worse, and when you are sick yourself and 38 weeks pregnant it’s even worse. Well that’s me right now, in the trenches and ready to murder someone.
You see, today marks the 5th week of me being sick. That’s right, 5 entire weeks of feeling like complete and utter crap.
It started the night before my birthday. That tell-tale itchy throat and general feeling of being unwell. The calm before the storm I guess. I said to The Husband I wasn’t feeling flash, and that I had a feeling my birthday was going to be a fizzer. In typical Husband style he tried to talk me out of it, assuring me I’d feel just fine by the morning. The day of my birthday also coincided with the return of the in-laws (and kids) from the USA. They’d migrated there 8 months before to live for good, but it hadn’t worked out so they were moving back. Their flight back landed in the morning in Sydney and there was an hr or so between the connecting flight to Melbourne and we had agreed to meet them for a coffee so they could see us and the Home Invader.
In order to get there on time we needed to wake up at 5.30am and I’ll be honest and say I was not too happy to hear that alarm going off. I was stiff, achy and sore. Definitely sick. But I lay there thinking about what I was going to do.
I eventually hauled my arse out of bed and committed to the trip. Mistake. During the journey I went downhill and by the time I was in the airport after a 2hr drive through peak hr and half and hr of parking I was feeling quite awful and coughing up a lung. By the time we bid farewell again and got home it had been a 7hr round trip in the car and was well into the afternoon. I hopped into bed to try and sleep but the Home Invader was buzzing round the house making a huge amount of noise, so I just hobbled around hopelessly waiting for 7pm so she would go to bed.
After this epic adventure and the utter failure of a Birthday, I decided to book a “mystery” hotel on Wotif for the night and plan a bunch of fun in the city with The Husband. It would be great! We arranged to ship the Home Invader off to Nanna and Poppy for the night, and we would dine out, do some shopping and pretend we were normal people for the day.Being 5 days away I figured I’d be better by then and was confident making the plans.
Well, Sunday rolled around and it became clear we would not be making this trip alone. The Home Invader had woken up wearing a green mask of boogers and both of her eyes were glued shut with conjunctivitis. It was horrifying, the kind of sight that makes you question your ability to handle things. This sort of snot and the sheer quantity of it requires a lot of technique to remove, as it’s like a sort of tar that adheres to the skin and grips on so tightly you’d swear it were superglue.
We all piled up to the 5 star hotel and instead of prancing round the city buying me a birthday treat or two, we sat inside the room sleeping, bathing and calling room service for $80 worth of dinner. 2 hamburgers and a plate of vegetables. $80. Wowsers. The poor Invader passed out on The Husband after her bath before her clothes had even been put on, a sad sight indeed.
The Husband has by this stage succumbed to the evil lurgy and we are all a pathetic mess of snot, coughs and lethargy. We spend a restless night coughing our holes up and begging for morning. The Invader was limp and listless, nothing like her usual self…and as much as I pitied myself, I felt terrible for her as she fell asleep 15 mins after waking up.
The usually decimated breakfast buffet was picked at miserably by us all and we decided to go to the CBD medical centre for some professional help. 3 courses of antibiotics were served up and it was declared we all had the flu.
In a few days The Husband and Home Invader are feeling much better but I am sadly not. I drag myself to the Dr again and get put on yet more drugs, but what happens next is just cruel. I’ve coughed so hard and for so long I’ve started to damage the muscles in between my ribs. I can hardly walk and I definitely can’t pick up the Home Invader or do much at all.
By the time I’ve spent half the day between the daycare drop off, Dr’s surgery and chemist for the drugs, I come home and make a desperate call to The Husband and tell him he has to come home and help me. The ribs are getting worse by the minute and I am in some serious pain.
In a hilarious twist (not actually that hilarious) we had booked a weekend away to a farm with some friends which we thought would be a great thing to do before the baby arrives. It had been booked in advance so there was no way of knowing we would not be in tip top shape for this little jaunt to the countryside.
I’m worried I won’t be well enough, but again I stay positive and chow down on the cocktail of supposedly pregnancy safe antibiotics I’ve been given and hope that things will improve before the weekend. We set off on the drive and actually have a great time. The dogs came with us and enjoyed their free reign on 70 acres of farmland, and delight in rolling in piles of cow poo and generally just running wild and having a ball. I have a hot spa bath and amuse everyone with my physique in some fetching lyrca hotpants and singlet top, the only thing resembling swimwear that will fit me right now.
The day we are meant to leave I have a coughing fit so bad I have to run outside as I think I am going to throw up. I cough and cough and cough some more, until I feel something “pop” in my ribs. I can’t sit up or breathe. Oh dear….. This is very bad, I instantly know I have to go to hospital and cry out for The Husband to help me. Our wonderful friends look after the Invader while we drive to the Country Hospital with me yelping in pain over every bump, of which there were many. I got wheeled into the Maternity Ward in a wheelchair and hooked up to a monitor so they could check on the baby who appears to be having a fantastic time inside me. I can literally not move much at all and every single movement has me yelling in agony. Many tests and hours later they ask me if I’d like some pain relief….. Come on….are you serious? They dished out something called Endone, and assured me it was safe for the Womb Raider. This is some serious shit, they give it to people for post operative pain. I take two tablets while they write me a script for Panadeine Forte and they tell me I am free to go home.
The next few hours are a complete and utter blur, apparently I talked a lot of shit in the car ride home, but at least I wasn’t yelling in pain anymore. It still really hurt, but I felt drunk so I didn’t care as much. I spent the afternoon sleeping under a tree and drooling into some couch cushions. We have to stay an extra night as I can’t handle the car ride, and once we do finally get home the same thing happens again on the other side of my ribs. The Husband had dropped the Invader off at daycare and came home to me doubled over on the couch unable to breath properly and in an absolute state. This time we go to our local hospital and they admit me straight away for the night. More tests and checks on the baby and hours before I get offered anything for the pain. Then they give me more Endone….this time only one tablet at a time so I am actually coherent for the Dr’s who are trying to help me. They talk a lot of Dr speak and are throwing around things like chest X-ray, pneumonia, pleurisy and I am listening as much as I can whilst trying not to miss the riveting infomercial on the TV. I decide I really need a Nutribullet. Sleep comes in little chunks, and I have to stay in a completely upright position as anything else is far too painful. I still can’t really walk. I spend the next two weeks an absolute cripple to the point where I have to sleep on top of a pile of pillows and cannot pick up the Invader or do much at all. I also catch another cold and get conjunctivitis during these 2 weeks. Awesome. Is this a joke??
Anyway, this has gone on for a while and I am pretty much over it. The ribs are almost healed, but not 100% and I am now 2 weeks away from my due date. Thank. Bloody. God. You couldn’t pay me to have another baby after this pregnancy, it’s been a rough ride indeed.
Now the countdown begins to the birth…..