I’m not 100% sure, but I think I just might not be alive anymore.
I sat bolt upright in bed at 4:36 am Tuesday morning, and realized I felt sick to my stomach, which I ruefully blamed on the new iron pill I started taking because, apparently, Baby Girl has decided to make me anemic.
Anyway, I tossed, turned, woke Jim up, and basically prayed to heaven that the queasiness would pass.
And it did, sort of, about 6:40 am, when…..ahem…..yeah. Let’s just say that there isn’t enough Lysol in the world to rectify the damage that I did to our master bathroom this morning.
I (lovingly, of course) got rid of Seth, and spent the entire day in bed; or on the bathroom floor. It’s currently 7:43 pm and I’ve managed to keep down a piece of toast and a cup of flat 7 Up. But the night is young.
Oh, and did I mention I’m about to have houseguests? Yeah.
I’m glad they love me, because the house is NOT ready.
The sheets haven’t been changed, the fridge has not been stocked, the counters have not been cleaned, and I generally feel unprepared to play hostess. Oh, well.
There is much a “pregnant Monica” that is a study in humility.
In the meantime, please pray that this “thing” was just the sad result of a last-minute decision to have Backyard Burger for dinner on Monday, and not something like a delayed case of the swine flu.
But I’ll let you know.
I have an ultrasound with MFM tomorrow, hence the delay in the 29w update. Hopefully, I’ll be back – alive – with a good report tomorrow night.
If not….assume I am, indeed, dead.